#best birthday present is henry knowledge

[sonnys-space-junk]

EXTREMELY important Brian/Henry information from @ballardbait that everyone needs to be aware of

@mrshenrybolet you specifically need to see this

[thexvthmember]

I’ve been sitting on this for a while, but I finally feel confident enough to post this ehe

Ahem-

It is my pleasure to introduce my Twisted Wonderland Fan-Dorm and Characters,

Sempermare!

Semper - (Latin) Always, Forever

Mare- (Latin) Sea

Welcome to Sempermare Dorm

A dorm based on the Legendary Pirates’ spirit of Intrepidness. Twisted from Peter Pan.

Those whose souls reveal their nature to belong to Sempermare are the bold and the brave, born adventurers waiting for their call to action. They crave all things this world has to offer, whether riches, knowledge or glory; it is their destiny to always seek new sights, sounds and feelings, to embrace and seize a new day.

The Legendary Pirate, once a chivalrous outlaw that sailed every sea of Twisted Wonderland, who became a great hero tangled in an epic quest to save the Isles of the Never Moor from a dastardly villain known as The Young One. One of the first humans to befriend a fae, he was guided on his journey by a beautiful Pixie, freed the Isles and brought peace back to those magical lands. Legends say that upon his death, in the Pixie’s mourning of her dear companion, she lifted his ship into the skies of Twisted Wonderland to sail among the stars.

Colors; Magenta, Red

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🪝 Housewarden § Henri de Marino 🪝

Age: 19

Birthday: May 29th

Height: 175 cm

Dominant Hand: Right

Grade: Junior

Homeland: Sunshine Lands

Best Subject: Magic Analysis

Club: Fencing Club

Hobbies: Tinkering with his prosthetic

Pet Peeves: Consistent repetitive sounds

Favorite Food: Codfish Casserole

Least Favorite Food: Octopus

Talent: Navigating without a map

“Do you hear that? It’s the sound of the winds of change calling, my friend!”

Housewarden of Sempermare. A carefree and curious young man with a flair for the dramatic, always chasing new experiences and opportunities. His brash attitude belies the care and willingness to lend a hand to anyone he considers a part of his ‘crew’.

Signature Spell: Onto Neverland

Allows Henri to grant himself and anyone he chooses the ability to fly. The more people he uses this spell on, the shorter the flight time.

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⚓️ Vice-Housewarden § Read Kipling ⚓️

Age: 18

Birthday: July 8th

Height: 158 cm

Dominant Hand: Left

Grade: Junior

Homeland: Queendom of Roses

Best Subject: Animal Linguistics

Club: Fencing Club

Hobbies: Sewing

Pet Peeves: Reading glasses fogging up

Favorite Food: Kiwi soda

Least Favorite Food: Codfish

Talent: Swordplay

“Aye aye Cap’n! Come on, you try too, it’s fun!”

Vice-Housewarden of Sempermare. A student whose ability to keep a cool head borders on obliviousness. Even so, it’s thanks to his calming demeanor contrasting Henri’s oft-reckless behavior that Sempermare is able to keep order as well as it does.

Signature Spell: All Hands On Deck

Allows Read to share a large portion of his own magical energy with another person. This can even grant a non-mage the ability to use magic for a limited time.

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🐊 Student § Tricket Thomas 🐊

Age: 17

Birthday: December 27th

Height: 180 cm

Dominant Hand: Right

Grade: Sophomore

Homeland: Sunset Savanna

Best Subject: History of Magic

Club: Film Research Club

Hobbies: Collecting antique pocket watches

Pet Peeves: People running away from him

Favorite Food: Boiled Mud Crabs

Least Favorite Food: Snake meat

Talent: Enhanced Hearing

“O-hoho? Did you really think you’d be able to sneak up on me? Well aren’t you silly!”

Behind the ever-present, menacing and pointed smile, this reptilian beastman is a true gentleman whose goal is to make as many new friends as possible. Unfortunately, his appearance, mannerisms and social cluelessness often lead to others being frightened of him.

Signature Spell: Tick-Tock-Time

Allows Tricket to either slow or accelerate the speed of objects. This spell cannot be cast on people or animals, only inanimate objects.

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Thank you for reading! I hope you all enjoy my characters and ideas for this Dorm! I know a Peter Pan Dorm isn’t exactly original, but as one of my favorite classic Disney films, this was one I HAD to make. I plan to make Dorm Uniform card versions with an attempt to somewhat follow Yana’s style, so I suppose that’s something y’all can look forward to! Thank you again for your time.

This is XV, signing off for now~!

[dandeebakes]

Okay, I’m dropping a bit of the first fic I HAVE EVER written! It’s the first scene from a 5+1.

Five Times Rose Crimm Asks for a Puppy and One Time Ted Asks

I’m fully in the ‘Trent Crimm is a dog person’ camp, but single fatherhood and a demanding job is not the best sitch for puppy raising…but a lot can change when you no longer have said job and possibly(??) a second parent in the picture….

“Well, looky here, if it isn’t Trent Crimm of The Independent, admiring one of London’s most adoptable shelter pups.”

“Hello, Coach Lasso.”

“I didn’t know you were coverin’ this event; I woulda tossed ya a little inside scoop. Like which puppies gotta be kept in separate kennels, due to conflicting personalities and what not.”

“That would have been very generous of you, Ted,” Trent says, suddenly looking advantageous, “but I’m not here in a professional capacity. Not officially anyhow.”

Ted thinks he is being played when he hears a tiny, unseen voice.

“Daddy, I want this puppy.”

Ted looks down and notices a toddler crouched at Trent’s feet, peering into the kennel of a small terrier mix.

“Darling,” Trent says, picking up the tiny dark-haired toddler, rocking a long, impressive french braid. “We discussed this, remember? We agreed on a kitten. We can talk about a puppy again in a few years, when you’re a bit older.”

Ted’s not sure how to process this new information. Trent Crimm has a child. A child that he apparently talks to like a tiny adult. Up until this moment, Ted has known absolutely nothing about the man's personal life. He suddenly feels extraordinarily privileged to have this new knowledge. Trent Crimm, The Independent, is also Trent Crimm, The Dad of a Little Girl. Two, possibly three years old? And she is cute. Big green eyes and a similar mane of long dark hair.

“Trent Crimm, I didn’t know you had a little girl! And boy howdy is she cute.”

“Thank you, Ted, I agree. And no I can’t imagine you would have known, considering I’ve never mentioned it before. But since we are here, Coach Lasso this is Rosie. Rosie would you like to say hello Coach Lasso”

“Hello, Coach”, Rosie says timidly, her head resting on Trent's shoulder.

Ted notices she's toying with a lock of his at his shoulder. It reminds him of Henry. He used to do the same thing to Michelle, when he was tired or nervous.

“Hello there, Miss Rosie'', Ted says with a little wave. “I’m pleased as punch to meet ya. And don't worry about all that Coach Lasso stuff. You can call me Ted or Teddy. Did I hear y’all are in the market for a kitten today?”

“Mmm,” Trent hums in agreement. “Rose has a birthday coming up—”

“I’m going to be three next week!” Rosie is beaming now, holding out three fingers to Ted.

“THREE!” Ted shouts, feigning surprise. “ You’ve gotta kitten me. I was sure you were gonna say 16.”

“No,” Rosie giggles, “I’m only little.”

“Well, you coulda fooled me. But, hey, a kitten sure does sound like a swell birthday present.”

“Yes,” Trent agrees. “Much better than her initial request for a pony, which was immediately overruled. Then, of course, it was a puppy. Finally we finally agreed on a cat. The wisest choice for a three year old who adores animals, but is unfortunate enough to have a single father who works unconventional hours.

“Sure, I get that. You need a self sufficient pet. One who takes themselves to the loo, if you catch my drift.”

“I do.”

“Daddy, kittens!”

“Right, kittens. We’d better be going, before all the friendly ones are spoken for.”

Right, yeah, you don’t wanna get stuck with one of those aloof floofs, that have no interest in laps. Little advice, hang back and let the right one choose you.

“Of course,” Trent says with a chuckle, “Thank you, Ted”

“It sure was great to meet you, Rosie. And hey, I’ll send your dad home with a few of Teddy’s famous homemade biscuits next week, as a little birthday treat.”

“Biscuits?!”

“Heck yeah, little cutie!”

“Ted, that’s really not necessary. Please, don’t go to any trouble-”

“Nah, it’s no trouble at all.” Ted says, with a wave of his hand. “I make ‘em for Rebecca anyhow. There for our weekly ‘Biscuits with the Boss’ chats. Plus-” Ted leans in towards Trent in mock whisper, “She’s already heard me, so it’s too late to say no now. I can’t disappoint the birthday girl. Trust me, you’ll both love ‘em. It was a real pleasure to meet ya, Rosie. Happy purr-thday!”

“That’s very kind of you, Ted. She’ll be delighted. Say goodbye to Coach La—uh Ted, Rose.”

“Bye, Coach Teddy Biscuits!”

[kaeyas-beloved]

Be You {Leviathan x Reader}

Leviathan x Reader (They/Them) || Obey Me!

Warning(s): None (Well, actually I make Levi bully Mammon for less than a paragraph)

Note: This was a request I received from someone on Wattpad!

-------------------

Finally, Leviathan’s done it. It’s been a long three days, hours upon hours having been poured into this playthrough. 

“Woop woop! Aren’t I the best!” he praised himself, smiling wide. He’s skipped meals, pushed assignments to a later date and avoided any outside interactions to finish this game. His sight may be blurry and his limbs numb but if those were the sacrifices he had to make to go full completionist then it was all worth it. Now, time to celebrate a well deserved win.

“I think this calls for some of Ruri-chan’s celebratory season 3 limited edition candy and-!”

A chorus of knocks on his door immediately snuffed out his joy. Levi scowled, turning to glare at his door from his chair, it’s gotta be Mammon. The third born is absolutely positive that it’s his scummy older brother - it always is - back yet again to mooch more money off him for a trip to the casino. The usual slander he and his brothers would throw at the second born was on the tip of his tongue, ready to fire at will. 

“Hey Levi? You there? It’s me....”

A voice that definitely doesn’t belong to the second born piping up and Levi, halfway through spouting the first syllable, shuts up all together. That’s his normie. A weight presses on his heart: he was just about to yell and insult his Henry… 

Clearing his throat in hopes of gaining some kind of composure (all previous anger having diminished) the usual “What’s the password?” came out in a stutter. The demon was only acutely aware of his heart beat. How it skipped periodically. How it raced like he himself just ran a marathon. Levi waits a moment for the human to finish reciting the TSL excerpt. His hands begin to shake, his palms exuding profuse amounts of sweat. Gah! Why was he so nervous? Yeah, he’s aware that he’s just some gross shut-in otaku but he shouldn’t be this anxious! It’s not like this is the first time the exchange student has hung out in his room... alone... with him…

“Yo Levi?”

“Yes MC?”

“You think you could open the door now? Please?” Snapped back to reality, Levi hastily opened the door, finding himself regretting it soon after.

“I, uh, MC? What do you…?” his voice trailed off, orange gradient eyes locked on their garments. Immediately he sputtered, taking a step back. A bright scarlet coated his pale cheeks. Levi tried to hide it with his hand, though it was proven useless. The sea demon's at a toss up; should he screech? Slam the door shut? Combust all together!? At the rate he’s going, number three is looking pretty probable.

On the other end of this exchange, the human stood almost timidly out in the hall, fingers fiddling with one another while their eyes darted anywhere but at the man in front of them. The words of the fifth born rang in their ears:

“You absolutely have to wear this dear! My brother would surely fall head over heels for you, even more so than he already is!”

Oh whyyyyy did they trust him? Cause he had knowledge in fashion and love? Yeah, that was it. Still, if this turns south Asmo is going to get a lecture worse than any Lucifer could ever give… Damn, they really should’ve never let the lust demon shoo them into his private bathroom and make them change into this girly outfit. 

And it hit them all at once: Levi doesn’t like it, what they’re wearing. What if he never talks to them after this? Maybe if they leave now then there will still be a chance they can forget about this.

Time went on slowly, like people who walk through mud are, and MC just about tuck tail and ran, what they had planned and gained courage for be damned. 

Levi had other plans though. 

Only now registering that the two were standing out in the open for all to see, in a blind and desperate attempt to save himself and the human from embarrassment, the third born latched onto their wrist, yanking them into the safety of his room. Unfortunately, demon strength is a funny thing and Levi had handled them with more force than he meant to, the human crashing into his chest - hard. 

Perhaps it was instinct -- a need to protect the fragile being within his grasp -- but the demon's arm found purchase around their form, pulling them almost impossibly closer as they tipped. The pair, balance long gone, toppled over, landing with a thud.

Somehow, just like in all the romance anime he’s watched, Levi found himself hovering over them, arms propped on either side of their head. Their noses brushed, both staring frozen into each other's eyes. It wasn’t everyday that either of them were this close to one another, the exception being when the duo falls asleep playing video games. God, with this kind of proximity he was sure that the normie could hear how fast his meek heart was pounding. If this went on any longer he might actually die.

“Levi?” They whispered, their voice so quiet that he almost missed the call of his name. He however did catch their whisper and tensed up before coming back to the here and now, catching sight of the ‘what’ that led to their current position. Standing, Levi’s face burned hotter than ever before.

‘It was all because of them,’ he thought, turning away turning away with tense shoulders as he still tries to mask the red that licked all the way up to his ears. ‘It’s always their fault when I start to feel like I do now!’

“S-stupid n-normie! Why are you even wearing that?” he asked, chancing a glance over his shoulder. Levi did have to admit… they looked kinda cute in those clothes… and it looked like something Ruri-chan would wear too… 

Gah! No no no focus Levi!

The ‘normie’ didn’t answer right away, instead raising to their feet and opting to grab a bag from beside the door. That wasn’t there before. 

“Asmo…” they sighed, turning back to face the demon, nervousness swirling within them. Now or never, “Asmo said you’d like it if I wore something like this” So this is Asmo’s doing? Damn him… “Anyway, here, take it.”

“Wha-?” A shimmering gift bag the same colour of the water Henry his goldfish swam in was thrust into his hands, whatever he was about to say dying in his throat. 

A present? For him? Oh why must a no good otaku like him have to go through such an intimate endeavor???? He just can’t take it! 

Then again, this was like that one scene from season 2 ep. 22 of this anime he binged: I Forget Important Dates all the time which causes me to get into really awkward situations. This time I forgot about my Birthday and my Crush handed me a bag before confessing their love for me!

So-! Spurred on by fictional characters and MC’s urging “go on, open it”, Levi tore the tape, presented with his spontaneous gift: a popular multiplayer game from the human world; one near impossible to get in Devildom.

“WHAOOO!” MC couldn’t help but think how much he’s acting like a kid on Christmas, the notion cute in their opinion. The human stood still for a couple minutes, allowing their friend to rant and gush over the game (and how cool they were for even acquiring it).

“But…” the purple haired demon calmed down, “why did you suddenly give me this?” What? Did he not know what today was?

“It’s… it is your birthday isn’t it!?” Don’t tell them Asmo lied to them about Levi’s birthday!

Levi pulled out his phone, his eyes widening to the size of saucers, “No, it is my birthday,” he assured. With all the gaming he was doing he must've failed to noticed, which is strange considering the last time his special day drew near he practically counted down the days. 

“MC.” He got their attention, looking them right in the eye, his words and actions portraying a sureness and sincerity, “Thank you and…” As quick as lightning strikes the ground, the human had themselves pulled flush against Levi once more, his head resting on their shoulder and nose buried in the crook of their neck. His hair, so soft and fluffy, left a ticklish sensation on their skin.

“And about what you said before. With Asmo. I do like what you’re wearing but…” he tightens his hold, “I like you just the way you are. I know you don’t usually dress like this and I want nothing more than for you to be comfortable, like how you make me. If that means dressing tomboy-ish then so be it. I want you to be you: the human only you can be: my Henry.” 

“I’m glad you feel that way…” They smiled, arms wrapping around his torso. They hope their gratitude is able to shine through in the hug, “Now, ya wanna play your new game?”

“Yes!” He smiled, pulling back and raising his hand. They return the grin, suppressing a chuckle seeing as the demon reminded them of the YES demoji. “Oh, but um! Would you like to change first? It’s not that I don’t like seeing you dressed like that or anything but like I said I want you to be comfortable but also I don’t think my heart can take it anymore… wait that’s not what I meant!” That made them chuckle though.

“Do I have to?” They teased, enjoying the reaction they got out of the third born. Levi gulped, ducking his head while whispering a small no. “Then maybe I’ll stay like this a little longer. It is your birthday after all.” Tugging the envy demon towards their usual gaming spot they let Levi set up the game before the two plopped down in their spots.

“Oh and Levi?” He hummed, tilting his head, the light of the screen illuminating the side of his face. They hugged him once more, “Happy Birthday”

-------------------

[Masterlist]

Thank you for reading!

[omgbigfluffwriting]

Let Me Be Myself Chapter 3: Memory Lane

A/N: this was written for @daydreamingatnight209 for Pom’s server swap.

Summary: Spencer and Reader take a trip down memory lane courtesy of their inquisitive kids.

“Hey, Mom, how did you and Dad fall in love?” My daughter asks Y/N. I snort, remembering that it started with a dare. Y/N snorted herself. “Aunt Emily said it was ridiculous.”

I glanced at Y/N, wondering what she was going to say. This was the first time any of our quints had shown any interest in how they came to be. “It started with a dare.” Y/N finally says. “Mine, to be accurate.”

“Yours?” Our daughter echoes in disbelief which makes her siblings start listening in as well. I'm surprised Emily actually said anything on the matter.

“Yes, mine.” Y/N said with a chortle as I remember.

----- Memory Start -----

“Come on, Einstein, it's just a prediction! Most often, they don't come true.” Y/N tried to convince me as I doctored my coffee. I snorted.

“You expect me to walk into there for something I know won't come true?" I hissed. My dearest wish has never happened. I wished last year on my birthday that Y/N would finally see that her current boyfriend was an asshole. “Wow, that's actually a new low for you.” I took a measured sip of my coffee. “Why won't you take Reginald?”

She sighed. “I tried, Spencer. Every time he makes up an excuse as to why we can't go.” I rolled my eyes as I made up my mind to go with her. Reginald's continued excuses are the reason I’m going with her. I’m also her best friend...though I wish I weren't friend-zoned.

“I’ll go but Reginald’s still an asshole.” I said as I added a bit more sugar to my coffee. What can I say, I like it sweet.

“Thank you, Spence!” she exclaimed and kissed me on the cheek. I blushed and thankfully, she didn't notice that my face had gone as red as my cardigan sweater. “I don't know what I would do without you.”

“Let’s hope you never find out.” I muttered before taking another sip. “Is Reginald working late tonight?” Y/N nodded miserably. He was probably cheating on her, the bastard. I’d seen him making out with his current receptionist the other night. “Come over to my place. Let's finish the Tenth Doctor tonight.”

“As much as I would love to, you and I both know he hates our Doctor Who nights.” she replied. I hated knowing that I’d be a healthier choice for her to have a relationship with than Reginald.

“Actually, who names their child Reginald? Even Elton John had the sense to change his name!” I exclaimed as we went out into the bullpen.

"Not everyone is Elton John, Spence." Y/N wearily replies as she sits down at her desk across from mine.

----- Memory End -----

“You had to coerce Dad into going?” Our first daughter asked, bringing me back into the present. Our other kids were laughing uproariously at Y/N’s recount of convincing me. “I thought coercion was wrong.”

“Honey, your mother didn't coerce me. There's actually a difference between coercion and persuading, which you’ll find out the definition of in a few years.” I said, smiling at the memory. “Besides, I got what I wanted in the end.”

"And what was that, Dad?" One of our two boys asked.

"I wanted your mother and by extension, you." I simply said as I squeezed Y/N's hand lightly to let her know I loved her. She gave me a smile and leaned her head into the crook of my neck.

----- Memory Start -----

We walked into the fortune teller’s tent. I was still highly skeptical about it. I still believe that most fortune tellers prey on human emotions, it’s a profiling turned carnival trick and that it’s not adequately rooted in science. She took one look at us, rose to her feet and bluntly asked, “When’s the wedding? You two make a lovely couple.”

Awkwardly I answered, “We’re...not together.”

She smirks at me and says, “Yet. Fate wants you two together.” I blinked in surprise at her declaration that we were supposed to be together.

After telling her that we weren't interested in a full session, we walked out of the tent. Suddenly, “Oh shit, tonight’s date night!” came out of y/n’s mouth. I raise my eyebrows at her. Twice a month, our team held Date Night, which gave established couples a chance to relax and have fun. I always volunteered to babysit Henry and Michael on those nights because I didn't want to see Y/N with Reginald.

The fortune teller came out and said, "Mr. Reid, a quick word before you and your friend leave." I nodded and went back into the tent, while Y/N went shopping since our task was completed. “You need to go to date night tonight. I'm sensing that this is the chance that you've been waiting for all year.” I blinked in surprise again.

“It’s Doctor and how did...” She pointed to my FBI ID Badge. I had forgotten to take it off when we left work.

----- Memory End -----

“But how did you two get together?” our three daughters ask in unison. I laughed. Whenever the kids were inquisitive, they were my kids. “And how did you know this would be your chance to sweep mom off her feet?”

“A gentleman doesn't kiss and tell.” I stated.

“In Dad speak that means you think we're not old enough.” Said our second son. I could see the disappointment on my children's faces. I wasn't going to share everything about what the fortune teller had said to me that day.

“No, it means I haven't told your mother how I knew.” I calmly replied. “And there are some things I would rather keep to myself.”

----- Memory Start -----

I had totally spaced on Date night. I found a sexy number that I had gotten for my birthday and hadn't worn (as Reginald hated it) in the back of my closet. It was a rose-gold colored knee-length bodycon dress that showed a healthy, tasteful amount of my cleavage (which wasn't much, thankfully).

“You are not wearing that tonight.” Reginald said as he walked by my room. I frowned, bristling at the imperious demand.

“I will wear whatever I want.” I replied, deciding on the dress in that instant.

“You look like a skank in that dress.” He said and then left to make his own preparations. I ignored him and put on the dress. The moment he saw me in it, he refused to speak to me. When we got to the bar that the team was at, JJ raised an eyebrow.

“And here I thought Reginald wouldn't let you wear that.” JJ remarked.

“It looks good on you!” Penelope gushed. “Spencer chose well.” I looked at her, shocked. “Wait, you didn’t know Spencer got it for your birthday? He saw it and knew it had to be yours.” I shook my head.

“That's why he refused to put a gift tag on it.” JJ explained. “He knew Reginald would never let you wear it as we all did. How...” I grinned, emboldened by the knowledge that Spencer had gifted me this dress.

“I told him I would wear whatever I wanted.” JJ and Garcia both beamed.

“Good.” both women remarked as they took sips of their drinks. I was drinking a piña colada and despite Reginald being an ass while ignoring me, I was having fun.

He seemed to be getting into an argument with Prentiss and Rossi when I looked for him. I frowned since that likely meant he was drunk. He'd pick a fight with Bigfoot, if Bigfoot existed, while he was drunk. “Where’s Spence?” I asked. After he had finished speaking to the fortune teller alone, I tried to get him to tell me what she’d said and my best friend immediately clammed up.

“He’s here somewhere.” JJ remarked as Reginald came up to us. This surprised me as Spencer preferred sitting for his godsons rather than come to Date Night.

“We’re leaving.” He growled. “Doctor Noodle Boy is here.” Again I bristled, this time for the nickname he gave Spence.

“No, we just got here. If you want to go, go. JJ and Penelope...” I started with tears threatening to fall. Why had I not heeded Spencer's warnings about Reginald?

“I said we're going.” he restated, raising his voice. 

“Let me go to the bathroom first.” I said. He nodded and I ran to the bathroom, intending to cry my eyes out but before I got there, I was pulled into a warm, minty embrace. It was Spencer.

“Spence...” I cried into his shirt. He lifts my chin and tenderly wipes away my tears.

“F*** him.” Spencer said. “Leave him and be with me. I don't know when I'll have another chance to convince you.” Spencer murmured before kissing me on the forehead.

On a preserving whim, I decided to leave Reginald. I pulled Spencer's head down, stood on my tiptoes and kissed him just as Reginald stomped towards us. “You wore that for him, didn't you?” Reginald snapped. I gathered my courage which was boosted by Spencer standing behind me.

“We’re over, Reginald.” I said.

“We’re over when I say we're over.” he growled, forcefully grabbing my arm. “We’re going, NOW!” However, Spencer looked at him.

“I’ve been very tolerant of you up until now for Y/N’s sake. Get your hands off her before I break your fingers.” Spencer said coolly.

“Make me, *Pretty Boy*.” Reginald challenged.

“Don’t touch what's no longer yours.” Spencer hissed and broke Reginald’s wrist, ignoring his howl of pain as he escorted me away. I looked back to see cops escorting Reginald outside. When we got back to the dance floor, ironically, ‘You Shouldn't Kiss Me’ was playing. “I knew that dress would look gorgeous on you.” he whispered as he led me onto the dance floor.

We danced to song after song like we were the only two in the room. “I hate to interrupt,” Rossi said coming up to us some hours later. “But the bar’s closing.” Spencer gave me a final twirl.

“Now, how about that Doctor Who marathon?” he murmured. I beamed at him in response and nodded my head. He intertwined his fingers with mine and we walked to his car.

“Thank you.” I murmured, holding onto his hand tightly.

“For what?” Spencer asked.

“For everything. You were right. He was an asshole.” I said, twining my arms around his neck.

----- Memory Start -----

Our kids were laughing uproariously at Reginald’s wrist being broken and my admitting that Daddy was right. “It wasn't that funny.” I mumbled.

“Y/N, you rarely admit you are wrong so yes, it is funny.” Spencer said as I rolled my eyes. I was waiting for the kids’s bedtime to break some welcome news to my husband. I was pregnant again.

“What happened next?” Our kids eagerly asked in unison.  Spencer’s lips quirked into a small smile.

“Your mother broke her foot while we were on a case.” he said with a chuckle. “Not to mention the fortune cookies with dinner that same night.”

----- Memory Start -----

I fell down, my gun falling from my hands as I heard a loud crack. I tried getting up but couldn't. Prentiss directed Spencer to carry me before cautiously going into the house.  I groaned as Spencer lifted me up, held, and carried me bridal style. “How is it that now we're finally a couple, odd things keep happening?” 

“The fortune teller said Fate wanted us together.” Spencer replied as he carried me to an SUV. I groaned at his answer.

“How can you be so...blasé about all of this?!” I exclaimed as he drove to the emergency room. What happened to our man of science?!

“I knew from the moment I met you that you were the woman I’d love for the rest of my life.” My eyes widened. I hadn't expected that answer out of him. “You know, I want kids.” He said as he drove.

“Where did that come from?” I asked. Spencer said nothing. “So do I.” I admit as I keep my eyes on the road to distract me from my pain. 

--

Thanks to my foot being broken, I had to hobble on crutches which meant I couldn't fly. It had something to do with what Spence had done before I was hired, apparently. Prentiss arranged for me to have a ride home with JJ as I lived in the same general area. “Could you drop me off at Spencer's?” I asked, seeing Reginald on my doorstep. JJ nodded and turned around. I slowly made my way up to his apartment after she dropped me off and knocked on the door. 

When he answered, he said, “What's wrong?” as he let me in.

“Reginald is waiting for me on my doorstep.” I replied. Spencer made a disgusted noise before kissing my forehead. 

“When is that guy going to learn?” He mumbled. Then he brightened. “I was just about to order Chinese, want some?” I nodded in agreement. While we waited for our food, Spencer asked, “Doctor Who or Star Trek?”

“Star Trek.” I said as I realized I didn't have any clothes. Fortunately, Spence was one step ahead and had earlier bought me a change of clothes besides pj’s from the store. He also handed me a hoodie sweater.

“This is yours now, Y/N.” I unfolded the sweater to see that it was his Caltech hoodie. “I figured that bastard wouldn't give up.” he said as we settled down to watch Star Trek Voyager. We only had to pause it once in order to get the food and we ate in companionable silence.

When I took our dishes in, I saw a hastily written note taped on top of a couple fortune cookies. It said, ‘Doctor, these are for you and the Mrs.’

Mine read, ‘A good marriage requires falling in love many times — all with the same person.’ I agreed with the sentiment. Spencer’s read, ‘If I know what love is, it is because of you.’

“That is so true.” he murmured.

----- Memory End -----

“It’s still true.” Spencer replied as he looked at our kids who were making faces at us for kissing.

“Don’t I know it.” I replied.  “Not a day goes by without me thanking the Lord that you were there when Reginald tried to force me to go home.”

“Me too.” Spencer said, kissing me on the forehead, like he had been ever since that first night.

“Moom!” Our daughters said, embarrassed. Our sons groaned.

“Our love only grew stronger, Y/N.” my husband reminded me. I smile at the five kids, soon to be six. I couldn't keep quiet any longer.

“Come December, there's going to be a new Reid.” I announced. Spencer’s eyes widened at my news. The kids looked delighted.

“That’s wonderful!” Spencer exclaimed, hugging me. Then in my ear, he whispered, “Remember that time we had to share the same bed on a case?” I chortled.

“How could I forget?” I replied.

----- Memory Start -----

“I'm sharing a room with who, Prentiss?!” I exclaimed in shock. Prentiss had just informed me that I'd be sharing a room with my new boyfriend.

“There aren't enough rooms, so you're rooming with Reid.” Prentiss repeated, “I didn’t expect any protest considering he is your boyfriend.” She shrugged and I followed Spencer to our room. But I received another shock when we entered the room. There was only one bed. Thankfully, there was a couch.

“I’ll take the couch.” I said, not noticing that Spencer was behind me.

“We can share the bed.” he murmured. When I started to protest, he added, “We’re only sharing a bed, it isn’t the end of the world.”

“I thought to save it for my husband.” I absentmindedly said. 

“Oh, so you think I won't be your husband? Don't worry, I’ll behave. I'm only joking.” he promised.

“I know you will. I trust you with my life so I can trust you with my virtue. Okay, we can share the bed.” I agreed. He put his arms around me. I leaned into his embrace.

----- Memory End -----

“You were the one that didn't behave.” he reminded me quietly. I grinned, remembering the rest of that night. That had been the night that the quintuplets were conceived.

“You could have said no.” I replied. I felt his chest rumble with laughter.

“I should have made you promise to behave too.” He mumbled. I laughed as he kissed my neck. 

“Mom, what happened next?” Our three daughters asked.

“I nearly lost your father.” I said.

----- Memory Start -----

Tears fell down my face. I was pregnant with Spencer's child after two months of marriage and he was in the hospital in Texas with another neck injury, this recent injury courtesy of Reginald. “Hey, you okay?” JJ asked.

“What if he doesn't pull through? I can't do this without him.” I sobbed.

“Do what?” JJ asked again.

“I’m pregnant, JJ.” I said, still sobbing. “I can't raise this kid without him. Diana won't be much help...”

“Y/N, the doctor wants to talk to you.” Emily called out before JJ could say a word of reassurance to me.

Reginald’s bullet narrowly missed Spencer's carotid artery and hit Spencer a few inches below it. I didn't need to worry about him, since he went to prison for assaulting a federal agent. I was told I could visit but was warned to not excite him as he needed to rest. Angry, I went to visit Reginald.

“To what do I owe the pleasure of your company?” Reginald asked smugly.

“Your stunt. You could have killed him, Reginald. If he dies, you better believe I will be pushing for you to go to Death Row.” His eyes widened.

“I only wanted you back,” he explained. 

“How does killing the man I lo-” I pause, considering my words carefully. “How does killing the man I love get me back?” I demand. “Let me tell you something, Reginald, if you ever loved me, you will let me go. Never contact me again.” I left after that. I went home, cried, ate ice cream, cried and went to sleep.

Three weeks later, I was beginning to show when Spence woke up. The funny thing was JJ had to drag me to the hospital because I did not want to see him unconscious again.

I entered his room to see him sitting up, animatedly chatting with Luke. Luke smiled and got up. “I’ll just um...” he left.

“Spence...” I breathed in relief and kissed him. “If you ever...”

“I know, I know. You’ll kill me.” he murmured softly. His fingertips brushed the curve of my growing belly. “Are you...” he asked excitedly.

“As of yesterday, ten weeks pregnant.” I answered, just as excited as he was. 

“Um, love, you don't look ten weeks pregnant.” Spencer said. “You look thirteen, maybe fourteen weeks pregnant...”

“Shut up.” I muttered.

----- Memory End -----

Our kids were howling with laughter at my telling daddy to shut up.  I laughed too because it had been funny.

“I was right after all though.” Spencer said as he held me in bed after we’d gotten the kids to bed. “Five children...” 

“I’d never been more terrified in my life than I was at the moment we found out I was pregnant with quintuplets.” I muttered. Well, that was a lie. I had been so petrified at the idea of raising Spencer's child on my own if he died. There was no way I could have raised all five on my own.

----- Memory Start -----

“Ready to see our baby, Einstein?” I asked Spencer the day of my second ultrasound. Spencer smiled at me and nodded as he tenderly tucked a lock of my hair back into place behind my ear. I noticed Spencer’s enlarged eyes and shocked expression first before hearing the doctor’s words.

“That would be babies, Mrs. Reid.” the doctor dryly stated as he looked at the ultrasound screen . Both Spencer and I stared at the screen in shock.

“Babies?!” I repeated dumbly, seeing a pair of fetuses on the screen.

“I was only joking! Do twins even run in your family?” Spencer exclaimed and then asked. In fact, yes, multiples did tend to appear on both sides of my family.

“They do, Spence.” I said softly. “At least they’ll have each other growing up.”

“Looks like quintuplets.” the doctor informed us. Both Spencer and I paled. That meant a high risk pregnancy.

----- Memory End -----

Pulled out of my reminiscing by Spencer's lips on the top of my head, I took a look at the ultrasound photo. “Seven, Einstein. There's possibly twins in here.” I said as I pressed his palm to my still flat stomach.

“I’m glad I accepted your dare, Y/N. Happily married to the woman I love and adore more than my own life with seven kids to boot.” We were both wrong. Later, we would find out, much to JJ’s and Garcia's amused delight, I was pregnant with triplets so we had eight energetic, bright, and happy children.

“Now will you tell me what the fortune teller told you?!” I asked in exasperation. Spencer smiled. “And don't give me that ‘A gentleman never kisses and tells’ shit you gave the kids earlier.”

“She told me that I needed to attend Date Night the night that we got together.” Spencer said, shocking me as he drew patterns on my tummy with the pad of his finger. “Why, do you regr...”

I put a finger to his lips and remarked, “If you love me, Spence... don't ever finish that sentence.”

“Your wish is my command.” Spencer said, kissing me tenderly as one of our babies kicked.

[deathonyourtongue]

Sanguine Nocturnus | 5

Summary: Even after 2000 years, the world can still surprise you. Pairing: AU!Henry Cavill x OFC Word Count: 2.7K Warnings: It’s a vampire fic. Death. Blood. Gore. Sex. Horror. Not for the kiddies or the squeamish. I mean it. A/N : Sorry this took so long. Hope y’all enjoy it!!

The night was cool, despite the sun’s remnants still radiating from the cobblestone roads like a thin blanket, the heat spreading up Henry’s legs as he and Vinicius made their way to a matte black Ashton Martin Vanquish, the car looking as though it had just rolled out of the dealership.

“Spending wisely, I see,” Henry smiled, taking in the car with an appreciation he shared with most mortal men. While it wasn’t a sturdy black stallion, it would certainly do the trick.

“It was a birthday present from Lucy, I had no say in the matter.” Vinicius answered with an equally cheeky grin, unlocking the car with a push of a button, the engine roaring to life simultaneously. It was only once the doors opened that Henry noticed Gregory sitting in the back seat, looking around anxiously, like a junkie looking for a fix.

“I’m afraid he’s still famished. Nearly emptied the vaults of A+, and yet he’s still ready to bite the first thing that moves,” Vinicius explained, nodding towards Gregory, who barely acknowledged him before turning in his seat to look over his shoulder, watching for anything that could pass as food.

“So m’lord, tonight we go hunting for your first real meal!” Vinicius announced as he looked through the rear-view mirror at Gregory.

“I’ve hunted before,” Gregory replied in a defensive, whiny tone, his gaze showing his confusion. In that moment, Henry read the young vampire’s thoughts and had to discreetly move his hand over his mouth to keep from laughing. Hunting, for Gregory, had consisted of going to a nightclub and picking up the most self-conscious girl there. Their new elder hadn’t even bothered to try and pose her in a way that would keep the Carabinieri from asking questions. It was amateur at best, and Henry was certain Gregory’s victim hadn’t gone to her death in ecstasy. 

“Not the proper way. Not even close,” Henry smirked, sharing a knowing grin with Vinicius as the Vanquish sprinted out of the city center, heading North towards the vineyards.

Once clear of the light pollution, Vinicius eased his foot off the accelerator, preferring to take the two-lane roads at a more leisurely pace, something which, judging from how fidgety he was being, was pure torture for Gregory. 

“What have you lined up for us tonight, oh Master of Feasts?” Henry joked as Vinicius began to look around, watching as much for buildings as he was for the road. It didn’t take long for him to find the farmhouse, the small amount of light coming from the dwelling's windows confirming that it was a family owned vineyard they would be enjoying. Henry could hardly keep the grin off his face.

“Lesson number one, Gregory. If you are going to feed on a human, do so with discretion. Pick wisely, and choose only the sweetest of bloodlines.” Henry explained as they veered off the road and onto a gravel laneway.

“And never drink them dry. That’s the easiest way of getting ill.” Vinicius added, glaring jokingly at Henry, both having gone through the undead equivalent of the stomach flu when they were newly-turned. 

As Vinicius pressed a button on the dash, Henry heard a sudden whoosh of air spill from the tire in front of him. Briefly shocked, his smile grew into one of awe and mischief as he realized why Vinicius had kept such a present.

“You fiend! What else does this contraption do?” Henry laughed, knowing that they now had a verifiable excuse to ask for aid. Shaking his head, he could only chuckle as the car came to a slow stop and Vinicius cut the engine.

“We have a flat. Come on boys, it looks like there’s help just up the drive,” Vinicius smirked, motioning for the other two vampires to follow him.

Vinicius exhaled deeply, invigorated by the fresh blood he’d just pulled from the now-limp girl in his lap. Looking around, he found their new Elder still suckling from a hearty old man—the owner of the vineyard—and Henry looking down at the seemingly-sleeping form of the wife that he’d just drunk from.

With a sharp look to his oldest friend, Vinicius pointed out Gregory’s quickly-approaching error. Eyes narrowed, Henry waited until the last possible moment before sweeping in and yanking the man’s body out of Gregory’s grip, a move which was met with understandable hostility and a hiss of aggression. 

“I wasn’t finished!” Gregory lamented, standing and wobbling a bit as the blood coursed through his veins, shooting straight up to his head. 

“You would have been if you’d kept drinking any longer,” Henry answered, shaking his head. “If you’re lucky, you’ll get a stomach ache. If you’d kept on and tried to drink her dry, you might very well find yourself in the ground next to her…permanently.” He explained. No vampire to his knowledge had ever tried to drain a meal, but the warning had been there as long as he’d been a creature of the night, and Henry wasn’t about to take the risk of finding out when the vampire in question was the head of the Roman coven. 

“Good stock.” Henry commended Vinicius on his choice of victims, both men ignoring Gregory’s silent thoughts regarding how they could wipe out an entire family so easily. It was natural for a young vampire, especially one thrust into such an important position, to question the nature of how they came about their food. While many newly-turned preferred to stick with the donation system, those born before the 1900’s were accustomed to feeding from the source. It was imperative for Gregory to become accustomed to both, especially since he would be parlaying with the heads of other covens, most of whom expected the luxury of a fresh meal whenever meetings were held or visits were made. Though it was still too early to tell, Henry didn’t foresee Gregory’s initial reaction being any sort of hindrance to his rule. 

“Dessert is back at the house, so if you two don’t mind, we’ll be on our way.” Vinicius announced, getting up and all but throwing the poor girl to the ground, stepping over her as one would step over litter on a sidewalk as he made his way to the front door.

Gregory's fidgeting only increased on the way home, his mind filtering through both Vinicius and Henry at the speed of sound, most of them relating to food or his fear of being prosecuted for murder. The two older vampires smiled, both restraining their laughter at the new vampire's paranoia and hunger.

"Don't worry. We're untouchable." Henry smirked, allowing the thought to filter into Gregory’s mind so subtly that it would seem like his own idea. He watched in the fold-down mirror as their new Elder’s anxiety diminished, allowing him to slump back against the seat and actually relax for a moment.

Almost as soon as they arrived, Gregory was accosted by no less than six coven members, all of them offering their fealty in the form of gifts, all of them desperate to get on their new Elder’s good side, lest they incur his wrath. In a flash, he was being made comfortable; fresh blood, warmed to perfection, a luxuriant housecoat and the finest tobacco. Like any new child in a household, he was being spoiled, something which would only make Henry’s job of teaching him that much harder. It was bad enough he had to walk a newly-formed vampire through the ways of his new life; to do it with one who would be ruling over all of Italy for the next 100 years would be near-torture. 

The older he grew, the less patience he had for new vampires. Though he did his best to stay in tune with society and culture as it progressed at faster and faster speeds, having to put up with the endless questions, insatiable hunger, and now the endless fixation for social media would be trying for even the most saintly person. It was one of the many reasons he could never be convinced to sire his own fledglings. 

Finding the whole scene distasteful and feeling a touch jealous of the boy, Henry turned on his heel and headed back out into the night, his mind venturing back to a time not long after his own immortal birth, when he was still ravenous and wild.

Four years had simultaneously been an eternity and a single moment. Through it all, his hunger had never abated. Romans who dared live in the darker recesses, or outside the city gates knew to fear the creature that came unbidden in the night. The one who left nothing but terror and blood in his wake. Prayers were useless, as were offerings. Even sacrifices to the gods did nothing to keep him at bay. 

The hunger ruled his every waking hour and removed any notion of sanity, allowing him to commit unspeakable atrocities to anyone unfortunate enough to be in the domos he entered. He drank five to seven bodies’ worth a night, sometimes more if any of them were particularly small. Man, woman, child; It made no difference. They were all massacred, left in pieces, ripped limb from limb in his blind need for satiation. 

When the high of drinking his fill wore off--and it wore off quickly--Herminius inevitably found himself sickened by what he’d done. Many tears were shed over the corpses of those he’d sent to Charon, a litany of apologies whispered over bits of hair and skin before the hunger invariably took over once more, the ache in his belly unquellable.

Night after night, he scoured his birthplace, looking for those who were already near death’s door, those too feeble to cause a scene when his teeth sank into their flesh. More often than not, their blood did little to satisfy, and he would be forced to find a family of young, healthy, Romans to feast upon. It was a vicious, never-ending cycle that Herminius thought would be nearly impossible to break. At his most desperate, he attempted to end his existence, but not a single method he attempted did anything other than temporarily open his immortal vessel. 

When it became clear that Rome was no longer a safe haven, Herminius wormed his way into the hull of a ship heading for Alexandria. By the time it reached the Pearl of the Mediterranean, he was the sole inhabitant of the vessel. Though he’d learned some restraint on the voyage, being in a new city seemed only to amplify his need for blood.

Herminius had only been in Alexandria a few nights when Caesar’s men--his former brothers--set the port alight, maligning any chance of him returning to his beloved Rome without further risk to his life. His maker had only taught him one lesson, and it was one which made travel nearly impossible for one such as himself:

The sun is your death. 

Homesick and famished, Herminius watched as the library of the great jewel burned along with the port, the vast knowledge turned to mere ash by the carelessness of men he’d once fought alongside of. He wondered if any of his brothers had given any thought to what they were doing or, if like him, they’d thrown themselves headlong into the task with blind fury. Though they were now two very different animals, seeing the glee on their faces eased his guilt some; at the base level, all people were bloodthirsty creatures.

His hunger eased some that night at hearing the cries of anguish from learned men who were forced to watch as their life’s work disappeared before their eyes. By the time the fire was extinguished, nearly half the library had been engulfed, tiny scraps of papyrus floating through the air like the snow in Gaul that had so marveled some of his brothers.

He drank from only one soul that night, that of a young prostitute. Unlike the madness of meals past, where anger and desire coursed through him in equal measure, this time, Herminius sought only to drink and enjoy the nubile woman beneath him. For the first time, he heard the sweet music of pleasure come from his prey, her body writhing, begging him for more. Piercing her neck with his teeth as he pierced her core with his cock, Herminius made the girl sing. Her slim figure trembled in his arms as he slowly drank, fingers pressing her down until he felt the familiar ripple of delight sprint its way up her back. 

She took no note of the blood streaming down her neck as he moved his lips down to her small breast, nipping gently until he found the perfect place once more. Sinking his teeth in brought another moan from the girl, Herminius smiling as he drank what little there was left of her. Her final breath came as he spilled his impotent seed, unlatching from her breast just as she went limp in his arms. 

Setting the girl down, Herminius covered her and quietly slipped out the window, feeling solace for the first time since he himself was bitten.

A few patrons still lingered at Romulus when he entered, and though it was accidental, Henry couldn’t help but feel some satisfaction when his scowl had them all scampering for their belongings, not one of them making eye contact as they headed for the door. 

“Wow, you sure know how to clear a room,” the bartender smirked as she dried a row of shot glasses, unphased by her other customers’ quick exits. 

“It’s a gift,” Henry murmured, taking a seat in front of her, still feeling the barbs of anger pushing into every fiber of his being. 

“Long night?” She asked, ducking her head a bit to try and catch his gaze. Henry finally looked up, feeling the edge begin to dull on his mood as he was met with a warm, open smile. 

“You could say that. Glass of the old stuff with a splash of bourbon, if you please,” Henry requested, jerking his chin towards the wall behind her, pointing at the bottles of Sanguinem that held a place of high regard among the other booze.

“You and your buddies are real fond of this stuff, huh? I’m not sure I get the appeal,” Carla chuckled, shaking her head as she got everything ready to go. 

“There’s a certain…generation of us that grew up having sips of it. It became an old habit.” Henry explained, giving her a wink, his smile growing as he saw a blush flood Carla’s cheeks.

He fell silent as he watched her prepare the drink, intrigued when Carla took a shot of the sanguinem before looking over her ingredients. Eyes narrowed, she chose carefully. Henry was hooked as he watched her light a few Cloves until they smoked, quickly turning what he assumed would be his glass over the smoldering herb and a sprig of Thyme before allowing the glass to cloud with the white plume. In her shaker, she put the sanguinem and his requested shot of bourbon, sprinkling cinnamon on top before shaking it up, knowing better than to add ice, as she’d yet to see any of the patrons who ordered it ask for it on the rocks. Finally, she turned the glass over, quickly pouring the drink into it and trapping the smoke in amongst the alcohol. 

“I present to you, the Caligula. Get it, ‘cause the sanguinem tastes like blood?” She beamed, taking a joking bow before watching Henry take his first sip. 

Before he could even let the liquid touch his tongue, the scene brought him back to the Rome of old, Henry’s eyes closing of their own volition as he drank. Savoring it, he did his best not to swoon, memories of meals past coming back as though he’d just finished them, the flavor bringing back with it memories that actually made him smile. 

When he finally came to, Henry’s expression had softened into one of wonder and appreciation. Staring into Carla’s eyes, he felt something he had felt in ages; attraction. Without allowing his mind to crawl into the decrepit place it usually went when it came to any sort of relationship outside of friendship, Henry let his mouth and heart do the work. 

“Carla,” he read her name tag, “my name is Henry, and you, bellissima, have just created the only way I’ll take this drink for the rest of my life.”

[suwya]

Till the Stars Had Run Away - Chapter 4

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Summary: Killian Jones was a voyager. Actually, he was many things, or at least he had been - a lieutenant, a brother, a loving boyfriend - until everything had turned upside down and his life had hit an all time low. So, he gave up. Aboard his spaceship he abandoned Arcadia, his planet, navigating the stars and other solar systems in search of... well, he still didn't know what he was searching for, but his rule was "never remain in the same place longer than necessary."

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Rating: M

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Prologue; Chapter 1, Chapter 2, Chapter 3

AO3

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A/N: Thank you @thisonesatellite​ for being the best beta I could ever ask for . And thank to all of you who are reading this.

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Chapter 4 . .

But I, being poor, 

have only my dreams; 

I have spread my dreams 

under your feet; 

tread softly because 

you tread on my dreams.

(W. B. Yeats)

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Days passed quietly. Emma and Henry went back to their usual mother-son relationship sooner than Killian had expected and he enjoyed all the domestic moments with them. Especially at night. Not that he didn’t care about the boy, Henry was always a ray of sunshine, and Killian felt he was starting to bond with him deeper than he could have ever imagined. But at night, after Henry had gone to sleep, Emma always spent some time in the main cabin, sitting next to Killian: sometimes just staring silently at the starry sky, other times listening to him explaining all the different constellations they passed through, even though Killian wasn’t sure whether she was interested in his knowledge, or she was too well-mannered to stop his blathering. 

Emma Swan. This beautiful and somehow mysterious woman had invaded his life and had fascinated him since their very first meeting. 

More exactly, she had tormented his nights and thoughts from that moment on. A bittersweet obsession that had accompanied him for years. He had almost convinced himself that he was over her, during his reckless years with his friend Robin. But that wasn't entirely true, and he couldn't lie to himself. She used to appear in his dreams when he least expected and left a hollowing feeling in his soul for the rest of the following days whenever it happened as if he wasn’t entirely complete without her.

The night he had found her again, thanks to Henry, his heart had skipped a beat and he had known he was in trouble. But it was a cross he was willing to bear. It was not only a physical attraction he felt towards her, even though he couldn’t fool himself, she was a very good-looking woman; but he was also determined to discover every single detail of what she was, no matter the effort. From that moment on, he cherished every minute, every second spent with her.

When they finally arrived at their destination, permission to land on the new planet was easily granted. Nevertheless, the day was coming to an end and they decided it was better to sleep inside the ship in the hangar than to find an available place to spend the night. 

The next morning, from one of the lockers in the entrance of the spaceship, Killian retrieved the package that he needed to trade in exchange for the item he had to recover for his client.

It was still early and Killian was surprised to see Henry coming out of his cabin, still wearing pajamas. “Are you already going?” The boy asked him, trying to suppress a yawn.

“Aye, but I will be back soon.” He assured the lad.

Henry threw a glance at the closed door behind him and stepped closed to Killian. “Mom is still in the shower. May I ask you a favor?” He whispered, conspiratorial. 

Killian made a great effort not to linger on the thought of a naked Emma under the shower jet, he breathed deeply and concentrated on the boy in front of him. “Sure, lad.”

“Today is my mom’s birthday.”

“Is it, now?” Killian was both surprised and amused by this piece of information.

“Yes. We have this tradition, my mom and I,” the boy explained. “When it's my birthday she tries to celebrate it with a cake... or something… It's not always a big thing, I remember once we just had a couple of biscuits with frozen spicy cream on them.” After a small pause, he added, “mom doesn't want to make me worry, but I can see she’s in some kind of trouble. I’d like to make a little celebration for her this time. But she won't let me wander around an unknown planet all by myself.”

Killian nodded in understatement. “You want me to purchase something sweet for your mother.” 

“I know you have your job to do, but if it's not much of a problem, could you look for something?” He asked hopefully.

“Not a problem. At all.” 

Henry's grin widened. “Of course mom doesn’t have to know anything about it. And we are going to need a name!” 

“Come again?” Killian couldn’t follow the boy’s thoughts.

Henry extended a hand to shake with the man in front of him “Operation Candlelight is on!” He exclaimed. 

Killian chuckled and retrieved his hand just in time to see Emma appearing from another door, fully dressed for the day.

She was wearing a pair of stretched dark blue jeans and a thin white v-neck blouse with a skinny light brown leather vest over it. Her hair was still damped and Killian had to swallow a groan when his eyes followed a drop of water running down her cleavage. 

“Oh, Henry, you’re already awake.” She said surprised.

“I was just saying to your boy…” Killian came in help to a puzzled Henry, who wasn’t so quick in thinking of a good excuse why he was already out of bed. “I've heard there's a fair in town.” 

He turned to Henry “Maybe you and your mother could have a look while I’m attending my duties.” And then back to Emma “What do you say, Swan?”

The boy looked hesitantly at his mother. 

"I think it's a good idea," she agreed and was rewarded by a big grin on Henry's face.

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~·~·~·~

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.    The trade went smoothly as predicted, which gave Killian enough time to deal with the assignment that Henry had sent him on.

Finding something sweet to celebrate was more difficult than expected, it took him a few rounds through narrow streets and alleys and after asking a few passers-by for information, he finally found something that in his opinion could serve as dessert. But the hardest part was to discern the right thing to buy as Emma's present. Henry hadn’t mentioned anything about a gift, but Killian thought it could be the right excuse to surprise her.

The problem was that he had no clue what she would like. 

Killian tried to think about the time the two of them had spent together. All right, maybe it wasn’t the best idea to linger on the memories of their first encounter. And maybe it wasn’t good either to think about their second one. But since Henry entered his life things had changed. When the boy was in the same room with them, she seemed more relaxed, more condescending, less closed up inside her inner barriers. Killian would say she even seemed happier. 

And the moments shared at night in his cabin had been... well, some had been carefree and others had been intense, very intense. In the short amount of days they’d spent together, Killian had already revealed to Emma too much information about his past, something he had never done before with anyone, not even his best friend Robin. And that was alarming. He knew he had a soft spot for her, but to which extent? 

Bloody Hell, man, you’re so screwed-up! He said to himself. That Lady Swan is going to be the death of you. Killian sighed and passed a hand through his hair as if that simple gesture could be enough to clear up his mind. Swan. He thought and realized that he never asked her why she chose exactly this surname while changing her identity. He assumed that it had to mean something of significance to her. And there it was: the perfect idea for a gift.

When he went back on his spaceship it was already late evening and he found his guests sitting at the table in the entrance playing hologram chess. 

“Who's winning?” He asked, securing the locks of the main gate.

“Henry is a much better player than I am,” Emma admitted.

Killian took a seat next to her and whispered something in her ear. After that Emma studied the board. “Oh. That's an interesting move,” she exclaimed carrying out what Killian had just suggested.

“It's not fair. That's cheating.” Henry complained. 

“Come on, lad, your mother is at an evident disadvantage. Let me give her some advice.” But when Henry made an unsure face, “just this time?” Killian added winking at the boy.

“Ok...but only this once.” Henry surrendered.

Emma looked at them perplexed, sensing that something was brewing between them, but didn't ask for further explanations.

Dinner passed by telling how their days had gone. It was clear that Henry had enjoyed the fair quite a lot, especially some storytelling he’d had the opportunity to attend. “Have you ever been to the NTH-Confederates planets, Killian?”

The NTH-Confederates planets belonged to a very far galaxy and they were shrouded in layers of fabulous legends. Killian had always had problems discerning the truth from the myth, but he knew the large hand of The Industry had touched them somehow, and they had succumbed to it, dark times awaited those planets. “I've heard about them but never had the luck to land over there. From what I know, it's a very different place now than what it was in its glorious days.”

“This man, he told us of so many fantastic creatures he saw!”

“I wouldn't believe every word the storyteller said, kid. They are just stories.” Emma tried to rationalize.

“Yeah. I suppose. But it would be cool if a place like that actually existed.”

“One can always dream about marvelous lands and wish they exist, right? Talking about dreams and wishes…” but Killian didn’t finish his sentence, he stood up from the table and went to rummage in some of the kitchenette lockers. When he turned to face his guests, he was holding a sort of a brown whole cupcake with colorful cream and a single lighted candle on top. He deposited it in front of an astonished Emma with a grin on his face, and he sat down again on his chair. “Sorry, it was the only sweet food I’ve found on this planet.” He said apologetically.

“Killian...?” Emma started to say, but Henry was faster: “It's perfect!” The boy was wearing a matching grin to the man in front of her. 

“How...? What does it mean?” Was the only thing she was able to put into words.

“Well, some fleeting rumor told me that today is some sort of anniversary. Correct me if I’m wrong.” Killian explained. Before she could answer him, he lifted a hand to stop her.  “Before blowing out the candle, don't forget to make a wish!”

She looked up at her son, then at Killian for a brief moment, then she closed her eyes. When she opened them again there was resolution and something Killian identified as hope in them. She blew out and the candle went off.

Cheers and applause rang out. Henry was glowing, hugging his mother fiercely, while Killian smacked his forehead, as if he was suddenly remembering something, and then he retrieved a little package from one of his pockets. He offered it to a puzzled Emma. 

She extricated herself from her son's arms and took the wrapped item Killian was giving to her. “What is this?” She asked cautiously. 

“Customarily, a surprise is part of the fun of gift-giving.” He answered smiling. “Open it.” He urged her. 

Opening the paper wrapping Emma found a small dark swan pendant made of polished meteorite rock.  “It’s beautiful,” she whispered with shiny eyes, close to tears.

.

.

~·~·~·~

.

.

Later that night, Killian was resting on his hammock with his arms behind his head. The door opened and closed and Emma entered his cabin as she had always done the last few nights while they were flying. But tonight was a bit different. He wasn't sitting at the controls, but already lying on his bed.

She approached him with a serious look.

“Everything alright, Swan?” He asked as she stepped closer biting her lower lip.

She seemed to consider the situation for a few seconds before climbing into the hammock and lying next to him: her head on his chest and an arm resting across his torso. “Thank you.” She spoke so quietly that Killian wasn’t even sure he had heard correctly.

He didn’t know how to react, he felt paralyzed. But when it seemed she was feeling comfortable with the proximity, he put his left arm around her back and released a breath he didn't know he was holding.

They spent a few moments like that, neither of them wanted to break the spell of silence. Killian’s mind was a whirlwind of thoughts and emotions. Of all the questions he would have liked to make her, to help him solve the puzzle this incredible woman represented, one came out of his mouth without really thinking about it “What happened the day we met? I mean after I left.”

She kept quiet for a few minutes, and he began to believe that she was in no mood to speak, but then she started with a soft voice almost audible: “Just after you left the room, that man, Neal Cassidy, he entered declaring that it was his right to… you know. He just wanted the reward money. I haven’t heard from him since. He’s probably not interested in his son at all. He just used me for his benefits.”

Killian clenched his jaw; if he had that Cassidy guy in front of him right now he would have punched him in the face. “Did he hurt you?” He asked, trying to control his rage.

“Well, I wasn’t exactly an expert in that matter, given that I was raised in strict privacy and all.” She sighed. “I knew I had to relax, but my mind wasn’t on the same path as my good intentions. So I’m not sure it was entirely his fault.”

“Son of a bitch.” Killian couldn't repress a curse. 

“If it makes you feel any better, that wasn’t even the worst day of my life.” She stated. “The night you found me on the shore… I was so furious with you. I went back to the Palace to talk with my lawyers, to see if I could banish you from the planet, or put you in jail, or something like that. But it was late and I didn’t find anyone in their office. What I did find were some papers about me, ready to be signed. You were right. The King and Queen of New-Tolemac wanted full authority on my child, they weren’t interested in me or my future.” 

“I should apologize for the horrible things I said to you that night.”

“Don’t. At least you were the only one who never lied to me.” Her gaze seemed lost in the memory of those days. “I also found a document, an old one. I discovered I was adopted, or rather, I was sold. My real parents gave me away when I was only a few days old. They probably needed some money and they used me, as so many others did.”

After a small pause, she added: “Henry is the only person in my life that cares about me for who I am.”

“I never intended to use you.” Killian assured, but he soon corrected himself: “All right, maybe I did. But that was before meeting you.”

She seemed to ponder her next words. “I know. This is why I told your name to my son when he first asked me about his father.” 

“If there's anything I can do for you…” She had told him the night Henry entered his life. 

But Killian dismissed her with a wave of his hand. “No problem.”

“Thank you for bringing him home.” Her tone was genuinely thankful.

“It was the right thing to do.” And when she didn't reply he felt it was the moment to say goodbye. 

He started stepping back but suddenly stopped and turned around facing her again. “Uh... now that I think about it. There is a thing you could do for me.” He tilted his head arching an inquiring eyebrow. “I have one question,” he said, emphasizing his words lifting one of his fingers, “why does your boy believe that I'm his father?” 

At those words, she lifted her gaze to look straight into his eyes. “I wanted Henry to believe his father was a good man.” Emma had answered, staring at him with sincerity before entering her house and closing the door behind her. 

.

[covrtofnightmares]

&&. cauldron above, ( james deerling ) was just spotted in the fae lands — word has it ( he ) is affiliated with ( the spring court ). ( he ) is a(n) ( 650 / appears 38 ) year old ( warrior fae ). it’s been said that ( he ) resembles ( david gandy ). ( he ) has been said to be ( loyal & courageous ) but also quite ( ferocious & stubborn ). ( he ) is currently serving as ( the deerling patriarch / consort of the spring court ).

— ❝  you have to be a little bad to make history. ❞

name: james henry deerling

birthday: june 11th | gemini

scent: juniper, mandarin, oakmoss, cedar greens, fresh blooming roses, gentle seabreeze + ( SIGNATURE COLOGNE: light blue - dolce & gabbana )

appearance: james towers above most at a whopping 6′3″. naturally muscular and strong, both from being born into the warrior fae heritage and from years of training, james easily dwarfs most who stand around him. with a thick head of dark, wavy hair and his signature groomed beard, james looks every bit the rugged, rogue, wild warrior fae descending from the mountains.

current familial / relationship status: james is married to faun deerling who, up until recently, was presumed to be dead in astralis. he is aware of two children he bore legitimately with her, aurora and arielle, but is unaware at present that ares and apollo are his natural-born sons and believes them to be his step / adopted children.

biography: james henry deerling doesn’t know much about his origins. his mother, a warrior fae who had been cast out from her family for refusing to adhere to some of the more rigid, violent guidelines of their people, turned to prostitution in order to feed and clothe herself. she developed an affair with a highly regarded warrior fae among the spring court, giving him pleasure in return for coin, and when marietta discovered she was pregnant, she begged and pleaded with her lover to provide financially for the baby she was carrying. she did not believe she would make a fit mother, and when her lover--henry deerling--begrudgingly accepted to take james into his home, marietta left the child on the warrior’s doorstep and disappeared without a trace. henry deerling was a revered knight in the high lord’s army, responsible for training young recruits around the castle, and believed he had little to no time for a child. he intended to raise james as a servant, or similar to the way noblemen handled their bastardized children. but, as a widower with no close relatives, he soon came to love having a child about the house and made james his official heir.

growing up with a knight for a father did not make things easy for james with other warrior children who lived in the outskirts of the spring court. they often referred to him as a bastard, the son of a whore, or dirty blood, due to his unknown mother’s exile from their people. james was often assumed to be weak, due to his mother’s own fickle nature and his father’s strange behaviors, so when one boy shoved the young child into the mud while another, older child attempted to carve james’ wings off his back, telling the deerling heir that he didn’t deserve the wings of a warrior, something inside of james unleashed itself, his magic and might striking out against the other children around him.

children stopped making fun of james henry deerling after that night.

though his father was a knight, james earned no special favors among the spring court. he had to earn his keep, and after refusing to allow the other warrior children to demean his bloodline any longer, james took to the training field. honed fighting was a skill his father had always hoped james would take an interest in, and the two bonded over their sessions with great fervor. henry deerling trained his only son everything he knew about fighting and protecting their people, raising his child to become a man of great strength, power, and passion dedicated solely to protecting the spring court. he fought and clawed his way to a title of honor, first as a guard, before eventually making his way up the ranks to serve as the spring court’s official captain of the guard by the time he was in his mid to late twenties. it was a title he revered with great honor. after his induction ceremony, when james realized that his father had not been present at his ceremony, the deerling boy slipped into his quaint family home to find his father on the ground, his wings crumpled beneath him and his face purple. an empty goblet lay askew on the ground, indicating ingested poison, along with a letter henry held clutched in one hand. james, desperate and consumed with grief, was barely able to read the letter that had been addressed to him.

the elders in his clan had not forgotten the child born out of wedlock, a surprisingly severe crime among their particular branch of warrior fae, nor had they forgotten that the child had been borne from an exiled member of their pack. henry was subsequently punished for allowing the child to live, and not sacrificing him, as any good member of the family ought to, and for the first time in his life, james deerling felt overwhelming grief, loss, and guilt.

james deerling is a good man, but not every story has a happy beginning. so when the deerling heir composed himself, steely resolve had him track down every last member of his mother’s clan. with a burst of magic and a fury of wings and might, killed every last remaining member of his matriarchal clan, until he was the only one left aside from the mother who had abandoned him.

james devoted himself entirely to the protection of the doefoot clan and the high castle following the death of his father. grief was something james had not yet been accustomed with, so losing the only person in the entire world he had ever loved felt like walking through a forest blindfolded. several decades would pass before james learned to properly love another creature. faun doefoot, the glittering princess of the spring court, was sunshine and daisies; she was a warm spring breeze and the color of sunflowers and cherry blossoms. the spring court princess was a delight among astralis, and so when she approached james one day and begged him to teach her how to train herself in combat and self-defense, even stoic james deerling failed to be immune to her charms. james thoroughly believed learning combat techniques was important, given his own colorful background, and spent evenings training faun on how to best to defend herself in case of a siege, royal duel, or even against a random attacker. she became his closest friend and, along the way, something clicked into place deep inside of james’ chest. there was no denying it every time he exchanged furtive glances with her at balls or galas he worked for the royal family: he was desperately, hopelessly, achingly in love with faun deerling. she was stunning, of course, but it was not just her beauty that james became enamored with; it was the strength of her character and the passion in her soul. it was the way that he looked at her and the rest of the world seemed to stand still. he had imprinted on the crown princess of the spring court. and fiercely.

the two began a passionate, whirlwind love affair, each privately acknowledging that his rank and profession did not make him a suitable consort for an heiress who was meant to rule an entire kingdom. but whatever his reservations might have been about his own questionable lineage, faun was determined to tell her parents she would take no other suitor than james deerling; her captain, her confidant, her closest friend. 

that’s when erik newblood happened.

the siege on the spring court was bloody, and though james and the rest of the guard and knighthood tried valiantly to defend the doefoots, they failed. they were outnumbered: in men, in power, in brute strength. it was a devastating loss, and faun was left in the hands of a monster. he wished, desperately, to be able to free faun from the marriage she now found herself in, but his mate informed him that anything he was thinking would be too risky to perform. hell descended upon the spring court, and the only moments of comfort and solace he found in the terrifying darkness that hovered over the spring court were the times he spent alone with faun. erik, in his vainglory, ordered james to the front of the line as the spring court’s war general, choosing to exploit their shared heritage as warrior fae for militant prowess. but while erik was a creature who consumed everything in sight, james preferred to preserve. still, more often than not, james had an inkling that the real reason erik promoted the captain of the guard to a high and prestigious position was so he could keep an eye on him.

it was much easier to keep an eye on a dog you’d leashed to you, after all.

presently, james has no idea that the two boys faun gave birth to, ares and apollo, were not sired by erik, but by himself. though he worried about their patriarchal heritage, james loved the boys as fiercely as if they were his own children, if only because they belonged to faun. he helped raise them in private, without the knowledge of erik, and slipped the boys gifts every solstice and birthday. sometimes, james pretended that the boys were his own; if he looked at ares and his sweet, chubby cheeks long enough, he even thought he saw something of himself in the dark-haired beauty that had captured the hearts of the spring court. perhaps if he pretended they were his sons, it would be enough. perhaps, though he’d never be a father to them, he could be something.

but faun was nothing if not resilient and strong, and through the skills he had helped her hone over the years, was able to covertly destroy the beast who had shackled himself to her. erik newblood was no more, and though james was petrified that faun had behaved so recklessly without him there as support, he felt overwhelming relief flood his system as a semblance of normalcy returned to the spring court. he and faun wedded, after so many years loving and mating in secret, and began to repair the damage erik had wreaked over their home since the regicide of faun’s parents. the two wed, in a beautiful ceremony praised and applauded by all of astralis, and james deerling rose from the role of war general to high lord and consort.

this was his home--anywhere faun, ares, and apollo were. though james still believes ares and apollo are not his children, he spent his rule treating them as if they were his own children by flesh and blood. when the time  came for them to expand their family, however, james was only all too eager. and thus...their first baby girl was born: aurora deerling, the crowned jewel of the spring court, and a princess who had carved out a piece of james deerling’s heart and kept it for herself. james became a dutiful father, and when arielle was born not three years later, james swore he had never been happier in his entire life. four children, two of which were even his by blood, and his treasured mate by his side. perhaps the gods had forgiven him for failing his father so many centuries ago; perhaps they had told him he deserved to be happy.

or perhaps the gods were still angry.

when faun was taken from james this time, with great force and jarring suddenness, james felt something inside of him wither away and die. erik newblood was dead again, this time at the hands of an enraged ares, and james blamed himself. it was difficult to face his family, realizing that he had, once again, failed to properly protect that which belonged to him. unable to face a throne that did not belong to him, james left the spring court and fled to the mountains. grief consumed him, shaping james into a vengeful creature, the likes of which he had not seen since his father’s untimely passing. he was not the monster that erik newblood had been, but he was his own manner of beast.

most believe that james deerling escaped to the mountains solely due to the loss of his wife. and while grief consumed him, james deerling was also a man of hard-headed, stubborn ferociousness. he spent the next two decades researching--faun’s body had never been properly buried, nor did he have clues about the whereabouts of his missing child. he inhaled books, ranging from modern to ancient texts, about enchantments, curses, and loopholes in the very fabric of astralis that could explain the things james refused to look in the face: death. and still, he trained: not just with himself, but with others. there were other warrior fae who lived in the mountains, clans who had despised his mother’s family for their rigid, cruel, and archaic ways, who recognized the man who had slaughtered the spring court’s most notorious warrior clan without the bat of an eye. their children and grandchildren, having grown up on the fable that was james deerling, poured forth and offered their services to him.

if james deerling was going to take on astralis with his bare fucking hands, he’d need to rally an army.

his nights were spent in loneliness, craving faun’s absence, but his days were filled with research, training, and questioning leads he uncovered that led to any possible clues about his wife’s death and his missing child. finally, after years of digging and training, and the solstice hanging above their heads, james held a breakthrough: he knew where faun was. it was just a matter of returning her where she rightfully belonged. and if he could get faun back, then he’d be able to find out what had happened to his sweet aurora, as well.

james deerling is coming back from the mountains. and unbeknownst to his son, he’s bringing with him an entire army of trained warrior fae who plan to serve the spring court unfailingly as they wipe out their enemies.

affinity: as a warrior fae born into the spring court, he possesses some of the natural affinities of spring, though james’ strength is almost exclusively in his combat abilities

wings: as is typical with the warrior race, james has durable wings perfect for flight and combat. his are large, taloned black wings, similar to that of a dragon, marking him as a strong predator in the sky. james’ regal wings are built for endurance, battle, and instilling fear into those who dare to oppose him.

[koltarmi]

Accustomed to Your Presence - A reed900 Jane Austen AU

Summary: Captain Gavin Reed receives an invitation from his aunt to return to Hargrove House, the place he spent his childhood at after his parents passed away. Unable to resist the chance to show-off to his estranged family, he accepts. What he doesn't expect is the town's new doctor, Richard "Nines" Stern. As their friendship turns into something more, will either of them act or let the chance at love pass them by?

Read below or at AO3.

Notes: My contribution to DE Art Fest! As soon as I saw this prompt, I knew I needed to write it. I was on an Austen kick and had a bunch of ideas. Chapter title is from Austen's "Mansfield Park". A shout out and thanks to AJ in the Octopunk Media discord for beta-reading!

Chapter 1: “Life seems but a quick succession of busy nothings.”

Gavin has always gravitated to the sea.  

He remembers the manor his family lived in and the sea cliffs he could see from his bedroom window. The sunny days spent at the beach with his parents seemed endless. The sea was always present in the background of his happiest childhood memories.

That was all before his father died of apoplexy. Shortly following his death, his mother fell gravely ill before passing away in her sleep.

At the age of ten, Gavin had lost his parents in a matter of months, their deaths taking the last vestiges of his childhood with them.

With the news of her younger brother and sister-in-law’s passing, Lady Maria Kamski arranged for her young nephew to live with her own family at Hargrove House, their estate in Hertfordshire. Her own child, Elijah, was close in age to Gavin and she was certain they would become the best of companions. Her husband, Sir Henry Kamski, on the other hand, had a different idea in mind.  

The older man took every opportunity to remind Gavin that it was their generosity that kept him clothed and fed. He was told on a daily basis that although he was a relative, he would never be worthy of the Kamski name. Instead of being given a proper room, Gavin was forced to sleep in the drafty attic. By the time Ada was born, Gavin was treated more like a footman than a member of the family.

The one thing Gavin and his uncle had in common was their temper; specifically the lack thereof to hold it. Insolence of any kind was not tolerated. In Sir Henry’s eyes, it appeared Gavin’s mere existence and his inability to hold his tongue was a violation of that rule. The scar that ran across the bridge of his nose and the various bruises he sustained over the years were constant reminders of his uncle’s cruelty. The rest of the family never intervened in Sir Henry’s treatment of Gavin. They were more than happy to remain passive bystanders. Living with the Kamskis also meant there was a constant comparison between him and his cousins’ achievements, whether it was Elijah’s intellect or Ada’s cleverness.

Gavin eventually found solace in the books he would borrow from the family’s expansive library, his memories, and the knowledge that his father’s will dictated that his family’s old manor by the sea would be his when he came of age.  

However on his eighteenth birthday, when Gavin asked for the keys to his family home, Sir Henry laughed at him, stating he had sold it years ago. His future had been sold to the highest bidder without his consent.

Less than a week later, all of Gavin’s worldly possessions were packed in a single bag as he headed towards the Royal Navy Academy in Portsmouth, leaving Sir Henry a parting gift of a black eye.

________________________________________

Living aboard the HMS Jericho was tough, but Gavin found it preferable compared to living with the Kamskis. He’d take flogging and a bout of dysentery any day over living under the same roof as Sir Henry.

Not only did he have more freedom, Gavin enjoyed the work. More importantly, he was good at it. By the time he was thirty-two years old, he had become Captain of his own ship.

Returning to England after the Napoleonic Wars, Gavin received two unexpected pieces of news: the first being Sir Henry’s death. The second was an invitation to spend time at Hargrove House. It appeared the Kamskis had found out about his success and were eager to make amends with the family’s former black sheep.

Considered a good man by his peers and fellow officers, Gavin knew he had no reasonable reason to go back to Hargrove House. However, the petty, irrational, and bitter side of him gladly accepted the invitation.

[minervacasterly]

🌹 A Proud and Grand Matriarch 🌹

King Henry VIII’s joint coronation with his equally praised consort, was not just a triumph for the Tudor Dynasty; it was a personal triumph for his grandmother, the Countess of Richmond, Margaret Beaufort. Throughout her life, Margaret had sacrificed everything, done the impossible, to keep her only son safe. Her confessor, John Fisher, Bishop of Rochester, said that twice in her life, she had cried tears. First for her son and secondly for her grandson. For the former, her tears were both of fear and joy while for Henry, her tears represented the relief and gratitude she felt for having seen her son’s dynasty last this long, as well as being witness to the first peaceful transition of power in a long time.

In her biographical work on the Tudors (“Tudor. Passion. Manipulation. Murder: The Story of England’s Most Notorious Royal Family”), notes the following: “A fortnight after the wedding Henry and Katherine were crowned together as king and queen. The ceremony lasted four days and began on 21 June with Henry VIII taking formal possession of the Tower. There, the following night, he created his Knights of the Bath. This ceremony, which only took place on the eve of a coronation, involved the new knights bathing in a symbol of purification, before a vigil spent in prayer until dawn. The next day the knights led the newly-weds on the eve of coronation procession to Westminster through streets hung with tapestries. Henry was mounted on a princely horse in a jewelled costume, while Katherine, dressed in white, was carried in a litter pulled by white horses. Her long auburn hair ‘beautiful and goodly to behold’ hung loose under a golden circlet of six crosses and six fleurs-de-lys, studded with precious stones and ‘new made’ for her. When a summer rainstorm broke Katherine was forced to take refuge under the awning of a draper’s stall. But it passed as quickly as it had arrived and the happy procession continued in front of the cheering crowds. The next day Henry and Katherine were crowned at Westminster Abbey and Margaret Beaufort wept as many tears as she had at her son’s coronation. She remained fearful, John Fisher recalled, ‘that some adversity would follow’. A few days later, while staying at the abbot’s house at Westminster, Margaret became ill. The cygnet she had eaten had upset her stomach. It was only two months since her son had died and Margaret did not have either the emotional or physical strength to recover. Fisher was present at her death, a mere five days after her grandson and his wife were anointed king and queen. Margaret Beaufort was buried in the Lady Chapel at Westminster Abbey where her son had so recently been interred. She had decreed in her will that her Book of Hours, in which she had marked such key events as her son’s victory at Bosworth and Henry VIII’s birth, should be kept on display there. Her black marble tomb was to be surmounted with a bronze effigy created by the Florentine sculptor Pietro Torrigiano. The face he cast expresses her forceful personality. Margaret had survived the dangers of her son’s birth. She had helped protect him during the years that followed, and risked her own life to conspire on his behalf against Richard III. In promoting her son as king, she had sacrificed her own superior claim to the throne. But although she accepted male authority she had wielded considerable influence. Margaret had used her experience of English court ceremony to place the Tudors firmly within royal tradition, drawing up the orders for future royal christenings and funerals. Her best servants became the king’s, and he had continued to trust her judgement to the end. No wonder she came to sign herself in the regal style, Margaret R. The obituary sermon Fisher gave her noted that Margaret would be greatly missed. Her female friends and relations, ‘whom she had loved so tenderly’, her priests and servants, ‘to whom she was full dear’, indeed, ‘all England for her death had cause for weeping’. Margaret had been an important patroness to the universities, especially Cambridge; she had also been generous to the poor, while her passion for chivalric virtues had, Fisher said, made her an ‘example of honour’ to the nobility. It was her spirituality that he admired most, later commenting that although ‘she chose me as her director … I gladly confess that I learnt more from her great virtue than I ever taught her.’ If Henry VII had had a good death, reconciled to God, Fisher believed Margaret had led a good life. In later generations, however, Margaret’s reputation would fall victim to religious and sexual prejudice. In the post-Reformation England of the seventeenth century Margaret’s spirituality came to be judged mere superstition and her intelligence and toughness of character were regarded with equal suspicion. The antiquarian Sir George Buck condemned Margaret Beaufort as a ‘politic and subtle lady’ who had killed the princes in the Tower with sorcery and poison to clear the way for her son. That Margaret was responsible for the princes’ deaths is a theory becoming fashionable again and remains linked to cultural prejudices. Margaret’s support for her son had been construed as those of an obsessively ambitious mother, yet for her generation she was fulfilling a duty. She was honour bound to help him regain his rightful inheritance, and later to help him restore the House of Lancaster, into which she had been born. Her strict religious devotions are, to modern sensibilities, strange, even fanatical, but amongst royal and noble women of her time they were commonplace: an effort to look beyond the vicious and ruthless political culture into which they were born, to understand humility, and the nobility of Christ’s example. The absence of portraits of Margaret Beaufort as an attractive young woman to counterbalance the images of her in old age have helped give credit to the sinister reputation she has gained. But the face that stands out from her story is not that of the widow with the hooded eyes, praying amidst the riches of a royal chapel and seen in her portraits, but a young girl, riding in the biting wet of a Welsh winter, to Pembroke Castle where she must deliver her child. Now it was for her grandchildren and great-grandchildren to continue the Tudor story.”

Indeed. Margaret, willed herself to live this long enough to see the crown being passed to the next generation without any bloodshed. England had enough of those. Henry’s accession and powerful display of imagery represented a return to England’s glory days. She was aware of this, and it is why she cried once again in seeing another Tudor wearing the crown of St. Edward the Confessor.

Margaret had lived in a tumultous time. She had endured many personal tragedies, outlived most of her family, including her son, but lived long enough to see this shining moment in Tudor history. Days after her grandson’s coronation, she retired to the Deanery in Westminster Abbey. She died on the 29th of June, five days after Henry VIII’s coronation and a day after his eighteenth birthday.

The celebrated Humanist philosopher Erasmus wrote a Latin inscription for her tomb which in English reads: “Margaret, Countess of Richmond, mother of Henry VII, grandmother of Henry VIII, who donated funds for three monks of this abbey, a grammar school in Wimborne, a preacher in the whole of England, two lecturers in Scripture, one at Oxford, the other at Cambridge, where she also founded two colleges, one dedicated to Christ, and the other to St John, the Evangelist.”

John Fisher’s funeral sermon echo what most of contemporaries thought of her: “She was a bounteous and liberal to every person of her knowledge or acquaintance. Avarice … she most hated, and sorrowed it full much in all persons, but especially in only that belonged unto her … Unkind she would be not unto any creature, nor forgetful of any kindness or service done to her before … She was not vengeful nor cruel, but ready to forget and forgive any injuries done unto her … Merciful and also pious she was unto anyone who was grieved or wrongfully troubled, and to those that were in poverty … or any other misery.”

While the new King and Queen were remarked on their scholarship, Margaret was also well remembered for it. In 1483, she commissioned a book pritned by Caxton. During her son’s reign, Margaret continued to give patronage to the printing press, including Caxton’s successor Wynkyn de Worde. Like her great-granddaughters, the first Queen Regnants of England, Mary I and Elizabeth I of England and Ireland, Margare Beaufort translated many notable religious and philosophical works to English. Schools and colleges were established during her lifetime, and some were finished posthumously. She also financed the restoration of some churches and parishes.

Margaret Beaufort was buried at the lady chapel in Westminster Abbey where her son and daughter-in-life, Henry VII and Elizabeth of York, and other descendants also rest.

[berkcwitz]

❛ ✶ (   madison beer, cisfemale, she/her   )   spotted   !   jalissa   berkowitz   was   spotted   singing   along   to   find   my   way   by   dababy   in   hilton   grove  .   you’ve   heard   of   them   right   ?   they   are   a   twenty   two   year   old   pornographic   actress   /   internet   personality   who   has   already   amassed   a   net   worth   of   550m  .   you   should   really   follow   them   on   insta   @callmejalissa  ,   they’re   about   to   hit   89m   followers  .   the   tabloids   have   been   calling   them   the   vixen   because   they   are   known   for   being   whimsical   but   also   a   bit   abrasive  .   though   most   people   recognize   them   by   a   drunken   gaze   staring   into   the   mirror   as   she   holds   finger   guns   to   her   head   ,   a   laugh   too   contagious   ,   leaving   notes   in   lipstick   on   bathroom   mirrors   &   echoing   of   her   mothers   longtime   disapproval   .    —   ooc info   (   mia.   twenty.   est.   she/her.   )

GUYYYSSSS ?! this group ? a masterpiece , wow . im hella excited to get to roleplay with you all . im mia by the way , im twenty ( i’ll be 21 in june what a vibe ) & i live in the est ( a clam chowder eating , dunkin donuts chugging , no Rs havin , boston sports loving new englander ). also i go by she/her pronouns ! i am going to be so honest with you guys . this intro is dummy long . like , i promise i will not judge you if you hmu asking for a quick synopsis of my girl because this shit below this cut ? is a novella & a half , sis . if im very honest i really just needed to flesh her out completely because she’s a new baby of mine ? and i wanted to make sure i really knew her before i put her out on the dash . im so anal about this , i know . anyways , before this little note section gets as long as the intro without further a do ? adu ? idfk ... here’s jalissa , she’s ... a piece of work . also if you'd prefer to plot on discord hmu @ 𝖒𝖌𝖐'𝖘 𝖜𝖍𝖔𝖗𝖊#9789 .

𝐆𝐄𝐓 𝐈𝐍 𝐃𝐄𝐏𝐓𝐇

full name: jalissa  billie-jean  berkowitz nickname: lissa , jals , jb , berks , jalissa cadden ( porn name ) birthday: october 13th birthplace: fort lauderdale , florida hometown: hilton grove residence: hilton grove nationality: american ( est. 1997 through birth ) , british ( est. 1997 automatically a citizen due to mother’s citizenship , passport was claimed est. 2012 ) ethnicity: askenazi jewish ( maternal & paternal , 100% ) religion: judaism orientation: pansexual , panromantic ( she never really came out per say , people just kind of know she’s attracted to all genders . her family is very religious and she’s very involved with her synagogue so she’s made the choice not the necessarily put a label on her sexuality but is open about loving people no matter gender ) languages spoken: english ( fluent , first language ) , yiddish ( fluent , second language ) , spanish ( fluent , third language ) , german ( conversational , fourth language ) . father: henry  christian  berkowitz  ( 50 years old )  was born & raised in fort lauderdale , florida by a politician / banking heir & talk show host / philanthropist . henry himself went on to follow in his father’s footsteps and serve as a us senator for two terms & currently is the ceo of berkowitz capital . ( relationship:  it’s never been perfect but the love is clear in the relationship & he’s been much better at being supportive of her in recent years . certainly a daddy’s little girl even when you do wrong you can’t do much wrong type of situation ) mother : austen  sylvia  rachelson-berkowitz  ( 48 years old ) was born & raised in westminster ,  england up until her teens when she & her mother moved to washington dc after her mother had become the incumbent uk ambassador to the united states . austen was crowned miss usa at the age of 20 & later went on to follow in her families long time involvement in politics ( holding former offices as a us representative as well as governor for two terms ) . today she spends much of her time putting her law degree to work on criminal cases . ( relationship: they’ve never been close & have never quite seen eye to eye . since jalissa was nineteen she & her mom haven’t said more than ten words to one another & if they have it’s never necessarily positive ) brother: kenneth  patrick  berkowitz  ( 24 years old ) was born in fort lauderdale , florida & raised in hilton grove . he shares the same parents as jalissa and is the couples first born & only son . kenneth is following in the berkowitz footsteps & is heading the uk sector for berkowitz capital since graduating from columbia university a couple years back . ( relationship: the two siblings have always been close. they had a similar friend group growing up & alot of the same interests . they’re still rather close to this day despite being countries away from one another ) sister: sariah  rachel  berkowitz ( 19 years old )  was born in fort lauderdale , florida & raised in hilton grove . she shares the same parents as jalissa and is the couples last born . sariah currently attends stanford university where she’s on a pre med track . ( relationship: the two were often at each other’s necks growing up . mostly because how similar they are to one another . as of recently the two have grown close , though , with sariah fessing up to looking up to her older sister ) social class: upper education: highschool diploma ( hilton grove highschool g. 2015 ) career: youtuber ( from 2014-present ) , pornographic actress ( from 2016-present ) , podcaster (from 2018-present ) notoriety: being apart of the prominent berkowitz family , having one of the top 10 most watched pornographic movies , her podcast with her best friend tickets to our downfall  & her youtube channel callmejalissa . weight: 122lbs  height: 5′4″ hair color: brown ( with blonde highlights ) eye color: hazel ( wears blue contacts sometimes ) positive traits: whimsical , astute , extroverted , affectionate , quick , intelligent , friendly , ambitious , passionate , humorous , loyal , compassionate , effervescent negative traits: opportunistic , recalcitrant , hypocritical , vain , critical , stubborn , distant , sneaky , abrasive , sarcastic , obsessive , vengeful , reckless , arrogant likes: black coffee , birthday parties , lying , sunshine , baby pink , glossy lips , gossiping , stand up comedy , sunkissed skin , dogs , peanut butter , popping champagne bottles , driving with the windows down , swimming , mimosas , oversized sweaters , taco bell , cranberry juice , makeup , football , cosmetic work , arguing , online shopping , exotic foods , jewelry the price of a car , fresh berries , roller skating dislikes: liars , driving in the snow , her mother , jelly , basketball , bad drivers , when people lie about their cosmetic work , sushi , hateful people , disloyalty , overly emotional people , romance , being alone ,  astrology enthusiasts , hospitals , silence , cheap perfume , criticism , traffic , being late , red wine , short hair , anything banana or grape flavored  hobbies: reading magazines , dancing to her newly curated playlist in the mirror , gossiping with her grandparents , video editing , meddling , going for brunch , goat yoga , drinking alcohol while snuggled up in bed , painting alternate universe cartoons , attending big soirees , making impulsive decisions , smoking weed , sleepovers with her closest friends , suntanning on yacht decks , late night instagram lives , marilyn monroe movie marathons  chara inspo: kourtney kardashian , emily nelson ( a simple favor ) , tan france ( queer eye ) , evie zamora ( thirteen ) , rebekah mikaelson ( the vampire diaries ) , jennifer check ( jennifer’s body ) , gabrielle solis ( desperate housewives ) , regina george ( mean girls ) , lucifer morningstar ( lucifer ) , kathryn merteuli ( cruel intentions ) , veronica lodge ( riverdale ) , chanel oberlin ( scream queens ) , samantha jones ( sex and the city ) , andie anderson ( how to lose a guy in 10 days ) , blair waldorf ( gossip girl ) , naomi lapaglia ( wolf of wall street ) , maddy perez ( euphoria ) , kat hernandez ( euphoria ) fashion inspo: fran drescher , bella hadid , alex chung , madison beer , romee strijd , kendall jenner , selena gomez  career inspo: tana mongeau , jordan lipscombe , sofia franklyn , alexdandra cooper , lana rhodes , abella danger headcanons: she has one hundred percent smashed the windows in an exes car , she drives a black range rover , vandalized an exes home before , says “ harely quinn is my spirit animal “ once a day , is not the type of ask if you’re okay with her vlogging , has slept with rock stars and couldn’t care less that they’re basically the age of dirt at this point , is actually very sad when she’s not putting on the vivacious front in front of people , dances on tables whens she’s drunk , its not a party unless someone has offered her a line  

𝐁𝐄𝐅𝐎𝐑𝐄 𝐉𝐀𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐒𝐀

the   berkowitz   family name has long been one that holds prestige & power . among the 1% for over a century . they are a prominent banking family that has had their hands in the pots of nearly every big banking company across the nation . coming into the united states after word broke of the california gold rush back in 1849 , the berkowitz brother’s were of the lucky few to acquire pounds of gold by the thousands . later founding what would become a leading investment bank known as berkowitz capital . the generations to follow would capitalize on the head start given to them by the two brothers . expanding the family company as well as the knowledge of the family name through heavy involvement in politics alongside the kennedy’s . since as early as 1953 there has always been a berkowitz family member actively appointed to a political role ( governor , senator , representative , us ambassador , etc ) . although the families roots within the states are documented in the capital of california , as generations went on they made their way over to the east coast , with most of the family members now residing in southern florida . 

the   rachelson   family is a prominent political family . synonymous with power & eloquence . with their rise initially taking place in the british parliament . many escaped to england from germany between 1933-1935 . they hadn’t settled into the states until jocelyn rachelson ( jalissa’s maternal grandmother ) was appointed the united kingdoms ambassador to the united states in 1987 . the rachelson’s have since had heavy involvement in the us government , both behind the scenes and at the forefront . much of the rachelson family have stayed within the european union ( germany & poland ) as well as england . although the few that followed jocelyn to the states now reside in washington dc and the tri-state area .

henry & austen had met through their mutual friends . it didn’t take long before the two became a rather public couple , a supercouple if you would ( similar to that of a brangelina of the 1% ) . although they’d met in new york the two decided that when it was time to start a family they wanted to move to hilton grove , an island austen had eyed for years . instead they found themselves moving down to fort lauderdale where henry had grown up . before they knew it , they were three kids deep in settling down in fort lauderdale . austen’s anger from never wanting to build a life in florida started to tumble into the relationship & the daily life of the family & so in an effort to recover the marriage henry agreed to moving the family up to hilton grove , where they have resided ever since .

𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐉𝐀𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐒𝐀 𝐄𝐑𝐀

jalissa was born the second of three children and oh boy does she suffer from middle child syndrome , riddled with a envy and a need to be in the mix . the berkowitz household , although , from the outside looking in looked like a fabulous family life was anything but . jalissa , like her siblings , was born on a pedestal & what came attached with that was even higher expectations from her parents . her parents found a way to be extremely authoritarian & uninvolved all at the same time . they were very dismissive if you disappointed them & everything jalissa did seemingly did just that .

for a long time she was obsessed with getting her parents approval , she’d turned life into a silent competition between herself & her siblings . she befriended only the people her parents approved of , did all the events they asked her to do , did everything she could to excel academically & only dated people who were of benefit to her parents ( people who’s parents where also in high places ) . 

during highschool she joined the model un , debate team , and soccer team . if it were up to jalissa & not her parents she’d probably had joined the cheerleading team but her mother would never let that fly . it was too “ self indulgent “ to fit the family brand ( if only she’d known what would be coming years later lol ) .

it wasn’t until she was seventeen that she started to deviate from her parents wishes . of course , the catalyst to this was a boy , one her parents hadn’t really approved of but jalissa was completely head over heels for him . he really helped her boost her confidence to be her own person ? and not allow her parents to treat her like a puppet . with his encouragement she started her youtube channel , something she’d wanted to do for years but her mother had shot down the idea anytime jalissa brought it up . it was once again too “ self indulgent ” . the channel known as callmejalissa was an outlet for her , talking to a camera was the most heard she’d felt in seventeen years of her life . and god she knew that was hella sad . she really grew to view her subscribers as family & by the time her channel was brought to her parents attention ( more like her mothers , her dad had found her channel just four months after she’d made it and promised not to tell her mother so long as she was smart about what she posted ) she was about to turn eighteen and there wasn’t much they could do to stop her from doing it .

at eighteen she’d graduated highschool salutatorian with offers from university of pennsylvania & brown university . in all honesty she didn’t wnat to go to college , she saw it as a complete waste of her time . it wasn’t like she was going to do anything with the degree anyways . it would simply be a point of bragging for her parents at events & at this point she really could care less about them being able to brag to their friends . she knew she had to play along though , because this was the same year she was going to receive her first half of her trust fund ( a whoopin 500m , yes her trust fund in total will be 1b her parents are grossly wealthy guys ) so she bamboozled ? her parents , promising she’d committed to attending penn just so they’d allow for the money to be released to her account . she moved out of the house , literally moving into a house of her own a couple blocks from her parents house & claimed she was living in pennsylvania for college . we stan a sneaky binch .

two months later her parents were at her front door , though , ready to give her an ear full . her mother basically disowned her at this point . telling her how every year jalissa found a new way to be a bigger disappointment . her dad kind of played good cop , like he normally would because her mother often dug into her pretty deeply . to the point where any insecurity ( even though with the way she carries herself you’d never think she has any ) she has stems from something her mother has said / called her in the past . if henry berkowitz had a soft spot , it was certainly jalissa , it that had only grown clearly with the harsher austen became on the girl .

a few months before her nineteenth birthday a sex tape was released of jalissa cheating on her boyfriend at the time . it was a drunken mistake she’d made around the time of her mother basically disowning her , but that explanation did suffice for her boyfriend who inevitably broke things off with her . although this was a horrific time she’d received an abundance of offers to film more tapes . it was enticing to say the least . she was someone who loved intercourse but also had this deeply rooted desire to get back at her mother ? and what better way to do so then to something so far left from what her mother was about . this was next level disappointment in the eyes of austen berkowitz . the only thing that made sense ( in her mind ) was to dive head first into the porn industry .

like you’d expect her parents had a fit when they found out about her new career choice . although her internet fame had soared to new heights and her youtube & instagram followers were loving every second of this move . her mom was currently serving as governor and has since not been able to get elected in the political world since jalissa became one of the top porn stars around . they basically blacklisted her & jalissa feels no remorse , she’s gone so far as telling her mother “ sucks to be shunned , huh? ” .

although it took her dad a while to come around , he cares far too much to shut her out . 

not to long after jalissa & her best friend started their podcast tickets to our downfall , it’s a mix of call her daddy & the basement yard , basically two besties talking on a level that most people wouldn’t want to leave the privacy of their own space , giving advice , hoe tricks , and telling funny stories of their past . it a total hit & one of jalissa’s favorite things to do .

she live sin the same house she has since she was eighteen . she lives on her own with three dogs and a cat . she absolutely hates being alone and so maggie ( a tan corgi puppy ) , louis ( a  yellow lab puppy ) , humphrey ( a chocolate lab ) , and cedric ( a orange scottish fold ) are her babies that keep her sane in her big ole home . 

𝐏𝐄𝐑𝐒𝐎𝐍𝐀𝐋𝐈𝐓𝐘 

as you can tell jalissa is chaotic , impulsive , reactive , and overall just searching for attention . she doesn’t care if the attention she receives is for the wrong reason or not , as long as she’s getting it . despite this she’s a good person ? i promise . she’s very friendly , loves a good joke & having a good time . very fun loving . she’s the type of person to try and bring up everyone else’s mood even when she isn’t feeling 100% herself . she’s loyal to those she deems are loyal to her . sometimes she’s bad a seeing who is actually loyal to her though & will be disloyal to someone who actually has her back ? oops . she’s definitely not the type to sugar coat anything for you , she tells it like it is & refuses to apologize if that hurts your feelings . if you cross her ? i’ll be praying for you . she’s the type to fuck your s/o , tell your boss some wild story about you & dump alcohol over your head at an event all in the matter of a week . don’t get her going , she’s absolutely relentless . with that said she’d very affectionate ... ? you can catch her hugging up on whoever is next to her at all times . touch is her love language , because lord knows she’s no sweetheart . she hates the stereotype of porn stars / internet personalities being ditzy , although she didn’t attend university she was accepted into two ivy leagues based off her academic abilities alone . the girl is intelligent & enjoys having a clever conversation from time to time .

𝐖𝐀𝐍𝐓𝐄𝐃 𝐂𝐎𝐍𝐍𝐄𝐂𝐓𝐈𝐎𝐍

a girl squad or just a squad in general really , give my baby her lil group of people please

her ex boyfriend from when she was seventeen ( he’s mentioned above ) but basically he’s the one who encouraged her to not let her parents make her their puppet , they didn’t approve of him , jalissa fell head over heels for him . they would’ve dated for nearly two years because the sex tape of her cheating on him came out .

the person she cheated on her ex with ? maybe they’re the one who leaked the sex tape ? maybe they never even told jalissa they were recording ? 

her best friend that she does the tickets to our downfall podcast with ? these two are literally like twins , just two peas in a pod ( pun intended )

fans of her work ? and im not taking about her youtube channel or podcast 

ex hook ups that think she’s crazy ? she probably gave them reason to think so lbr

frenemies give me blair & serena circa season one type of shit

just plain old enemies , they were probably friends at one point or maybe just have always disliked one another ? 

smoking buddies were they literally just hot box cars together and munch on taco bell talking about why sound vibrates & shit 

someone who isn’t afraid to confess their love for jalissa but her damaged ass refuses to confess her feelings for them ? so it’s just this constant cycle of them having a good time , them being sweet & her just gets weirdly quite & starring at them before she complaining about them going and ruining the vibes

she’s a bad influence on them ? they’re a good influence on her ? ride or dies ? partners in crime ? only friends when there is a substance involved ? sugar baby vibes ? unlikely friends ? flings ? crush ? friends with benefits ? everytime they are around one another its a fight ? someone she lets crash at her place sometimes ? someone she’s backstabbed & maybe they don’t even know she has & they still think she’s a ride or die for them ?

[46ten]

Ann(e) Willing Bingham and William Bingham

William Bingham was a prominent Philadelphia merchant and banker. From 1776 to 1780 he served as agent of the Continental Congress at Martinique and as consul at St. Pierre in the West Indies. He was a Federalist who various served as a member of the Continental Congress in 1787 and 1788 and a member of the Pennsylvania House of Representatives in 1790 and 1791. He served in the Pennsylvania Senate in 1794 and 1795, and from 1795 to 1801 he was a member of the United States Senate. Bingham was Founder and Director of the Bank of North America an Chairman of the committee of the board of directors of the Bank of the United States. He was also te first president of the Philadelphia and Lancaster Turnpike Corporation. He founded Binghamton, New York, and he owned large tracts of land in Pennsylvania and the District of Maine (part of which he had purchased from Henry and Lucy Knox). (To keen AH historians, Bingham was the person entrusted - or maybe not - with the Reynolds letters.)  

Anne Willing was the daughter of Thomas Willing, a prominent Philadelphia merchant and banker who was also President of the Bank of North America and Bank of the U.S. (In 1783, John B. Church was the second largest stockholder in the Bank of North America - AH asked Willing in 1790 to serve as Church’s attorney as his shares were being sold.) Both Thomas and William are counted among the wealthiest men in America in this period. Anne married William Bingham in 1780, shortly after her sixteenth birthday. She is sometimes referred to as the “uncrowned queen of the Republican court.” 

(I get a kick that her wedding ring seems to be a gimmel ring.) The Adams family supplies some of the best descriptions of her: 

“Mrs. Bingham is a very young Lady, not more than 20, very agreeable, and very handsome: rather too much given to the foibles of the Country for the mother of two Children, which she already is.” - Abigail Adams to Mercy Otis Warren, 5Sept1784

...Mrs. Bingham, who taken all together is the finest woman I ever saw. The intelligence of her countanance, or rather I ought to say animation, the Elegance of her form, and the affability of her Manners, converts you into admiration, and one has only to lament too much dissapation and frivolity of amusement, which has weand her from her Native Country; and given her a passion and thirst after all the Luxeries of Europe. - Abigail Adams to Mercy Otis Warren, 30Sept1785

Mr and Mrs Bingham arrived here about 3 weeks ago with a full determination to go out to America in March, but having as usual Spaired no pains to get introduced to the families of my Lord Landsdown and my Lady Lucans, they are so supreemly blest, that poor America looks like a bugbear to them. “O! now I know mr Bingham you wont go out this Spring. Give me but ten Years, and take all the rest of my Life.” Who can withstand flattery and admiration? What female mind young beautifull rich—must she not be more than woman if vanity was not the predominate passion? I accompanied her last thursday to Court and presented her both to the King and Queen, and I own I felt not a little proud of her. St James’s did not, and could not produce an other so fine woman. Yet it was the most crouded drawing Room I ever attended, except the late Birth Day. You know this Ladies taste in dress is truly elegant. She had prepaird herself in France for this occasion, and being more fleshy than I have seen her before, she is concequently handsomer than ever.

“She Shone a Goddess, and She moved a Queen.”

The various whispers which I heard round me, and the pressing of the Ladies to get a sight of her, was really curious, and must have added an attom to the old score, for she could not but see how attractive She was. Is she an American, is she an American, I heard frequently repeated? And even the Ladies were obliged to confess that she was truly an elegant woman. You have, said an English Lord to me, but whose name I knew not, one of the finest Ladies to present, that I ever saw. The Emperers Ambassador12 Whisperd your Pappa, sir your Country produces exceeding fine women.  Abigail Adams to John Q Adams, 16Feb1786

Madame B. shone away in all her splendor, her dress was that she wore last Winter black and Pink, and I have not seen so elegant a Woman, since I have been in England. A Gentlem[an] who sat next me at table Told me I was in Love with her. O it is true that I never see her without admiration in the highest degree.Abigail “Nabby” Adams to her brother John Quincy Adams, 22 January 1786 courtesy thelittlelionofvalleyforge

Anne W. Bingham died on May 11, 1801 in Bermuda, where she had gone with her family after failing to recover from childbirth (there’s some speculation she had contracted tuberculosis)..

I may associate with the preceding, the information of another loss, which our City has sustained by the death of Mrs: Bingham; of whose illness and long confinement you may have heard. After all hope of her recovery was given over by her Physicians, the last prescription they could give with a prospect of benefit or relief, was a voyage to some Southern climate. She was accordingly embarked on board a ship, accompanied by her husband daughter & Sister and a young Physician. The first effects of a change of air were very favorable & flattered her friends, that her case was less desperate than they had imagined; she sustained the voyage, however, very poorly, and survived her arrival at Bermudas, but three days. Mr: Bingham returned with the rest, a day or two ago & was the first to announce the fatal tidings to the family of his deceased lady, who, as you will readily suppose, are plunged, by this stroke of the fell destroyer, into the abyss of woe & grief. Mrs: Bingham is said to have borne her tedious illness with uncommon fortitude, & when hope had utterly forsaken her own bosom, she displayed a perfect example of resignation.  Thomas Bolyston Adams to AA, 31May1801

I had learnt before, by the public papers, the death of mrs Bingham and many have been my reflection[s] upon it. Health presuming, Beauty Blooming, ah how dreadfull tis to dye,” Says fair Rossomond; that Mrs Bingham was one of the most Elegant, and highly accomplishd women, our Country has furnished, no one who knew her, will deny. to a fine form, was added an affability of address, and an ease of manners, which prepossesst and captivated all who approachd her. She had travelled, and obtained the high polish of the Beau Mond; but her conduct in many respects did not accord with my Ideas of female worth, delicacy and purity. She did not Sufficiently respect herself, nor the opinion of the world; particuliarly <, Start deletion,that, End,> those of her own Country.She was culpable in a latitude of Manners, and in introducing a mode of dress which as a Mother, she ought not to have permitted in her daughters—If I have any knowledge of human nature, the Stile of dress introduced by her, and copied by her daughters, has a direct tendency to seduce the unwary; to Create inflammatory passions, and call forth lose affections by unfolding to every Eye, what the veil of Modesty ought to Shield; and the mantle of fashion ought to cover; it originated with Harlots, and should not have betrayed a modest woman into the Snare; the concequences have been Seen in her own Family, and are of too recent a date, to need relating—Mrs Binghams Family, Fortune, Beauty and accomplishments gave her a lead in Society, and her influence extended far beyond the bounds of Your City: Was that influence employd in the various Services of virtue, was it excercised in confirming and prolonging the duration of virtuous affections, in a simplicity of Manners, or in a latitude which gave occasion for censure, and which approached so near the verge of crimminality, as to be evil spoken of. Chastity when founded on the firm basis of pure virtue, holds forth to the Eye of the most artfull the repulsive evidence of impregnable Security, which can awe the most dissolute into respect and admiration—and as the poet expressess it, She that hath that, is clad in compleat Steel”That Mrs Bingham had many amiable qualities I well know. her Friends, Relatives and domesticks can bear witness to them. With them I sympathize; by them her loss must be keenly felt—The worthy old Lady, whose children rise up and call her blessed, and whose remains you lately attended to the grave, has left a Character much more worthy imitation; <, Start deletion,whatsoever, End,> and an example of whatsoever things were just whatsoever things were honest, whatsoever things were pure, whatsoever things were lovely, whatsoever things were of good report, and if there be any virtue, and if there be any praise, think on these things. Abigail Adams writing about Anne Bingham to Thomas Boylston Adams, 12June1801

After her death, William Bingham sailed for England in August 1801, with their daughter, Ann, and her husband, Alexander Baring. Baring, the son of Sir Francis Baring, was the agent for the House of Baring in the United States from 1795 to 1801.

William Jackson, that close friend of AH’s, resigned as GW’s secretary in December 1791 (see GW to Jackson, 26 Dec.), he was employed by William Bingham as his land agent. Jackson successfully courted Elizabeth Willing (1768-1858), the youngest sister of Anne’s. Elizabeth was the youngest of thirteen children of Thomas Willing. Jackson did not marry Elizabeth Willing until 11 Nov. 1795, after his return from Europe as William Bingham’s agent. GW and Martha Washington definitely attended their wedding (it’s in his diaries), and some articles say the Hamiltons did too, but that doesn’t make sense to me - AH seems to be in NYC. (Yet another of AH’s friends getting married surprisingly late.)

[once-upon-a-ouat]

“The Sound of the Sea Can Keep You from Drowning”

Summary: Emma's had one of the worst days in her career as a detective and the biggest problem is that she can't even get back home to her son. She is stuck in the same room with Killian who has been nothing but understanding and caring–not just that night but all the time–and it annoys her so much that she can't figure out why he's doing all of that for her since she's sure he's not driven by desire for personal gain. Bedsharing.

This was always meant to be a birthday present for @theonceoverthinker but I am so late because I had some disagreements with the muse about this fic. It's just my second time writing Captain Swan so I hope you'll like it.

Read on FFN or AO3

A simple motion was usually enough for Emma to get free of her jacket but the red leather was clinging adamantly to her that night and refused to yield to her manipulations, making her huff in tact with yet another useless tug. It felt like she was stuffed in a body tight cage and that had only so much to do with the jacket and much more with the fact that she was actually stuck in a situation that did not at all suit her tastes.

She closed her eyes and focused on her breathing, trying to calm down enough to hunt down the patience she needed to get rid of her jacket. It would surrender and let go of her if she could try to peel it off slowly and gently but then she’d be left with nothing to help her with all the pent-up frustration bubbling inside her and she needed to get rid of that just as badly. Perhaps even more if she wanted to be able to fall asleep and not have anything else go wrong that day. Though, it would take effort for the few minutes left of the day to make it even worse than it already was.

“Feeling tense, are we, love?” Killian asked behind her back, the question playful but still gentle with the care laced in it that she hadn’t asked him for. She could take care of herself and her son and didn’t need anyone else to do it. “Should I get out while you change?” Killian asked in that same tone that made it impossible to ignore the fact that his attempt at being a gentleman was genuine.

It only annoyed her more, for it would be easier to be angry with him if he were pretending. And she needed to be angry with something so that the feeling wouldn’t stay inside her and keep clogging up her system. She’d gathered enough negativity for a whole year that day and she didn’t need to keep it. She’d sworn not to take work home with her so that it wouldn’t bother Henry but, of course, she hadn’t even been able to make it home, the damn case more complicated than they’d thought and leaving them in the middle of nowhere when they should have been home hours ago instead of engaging in a wild goose chase of evidence that seemed to mock them with its elusiveness. She’d gladly lock away Regina Mills once she managed to catch her simply for keeping her away from her son if nothing else.

Emma turned around to speak or snap–whatever came out, really–at Killian but was given a sharp pause when she saw him laying blankets on the ground that she hadn’t even heard him fetch from the closet. Not that she could pay much attention to anything besides the mess in her own head.

“What are you doing?” she asked, the clear protest in her tone startling even to her with how acute it was but she couldn’t comprehend what she was seeing.

“There’s only one bed,” Killian said, and of course there was. Of course there was only one room in the one motel they’d managed to find when he’d convinced her it was far too late in the night to drive all the way back to New York and of course there was only one double bed. But the way he said the words as if they explained everything, as if his actions were proportional to the circumstances, didn’t sit right with her. He really intended to sleep on the floor and she only felt more pressure enter her system at the conflicting feelings he’d planted in her.

“Don’t be ridiculous,” she decided to acknowledge the annoyance and let it out to free herself from it and because that was safer than falling into the appreciation she couldn't help but feel at his consideration. Especially when she knew there was nothing fake in it, no hidden motive for personal gain. Just the genuine attempt to help her feel at least somewhat comfortable with the whole situation. “We’re both adults,” she said, keeping her tone as calm as she could manage as she tried not to work against herself on that one and give proof of the opposite.

It wasn’t worry that Killian would get the wrong idea about it that had her doing her best to keep her heart rate from elevating. She wouldn't have needed him to be willing to sleep on the floor to know she could trust him enough to sleep in the same bed with him. It was exactly the knowledge that she couldn't remember when was the last time she’d trusted someone to let them get so close that had enough adrenaline rushing through her to have her running out and keep working until she could catch their criminal and go home to Henry and Mary Margaret and David.

“Are you inviting me in your bed, Swan?” Killian asked, a smug smile on his face that made her want to hit it off as it did nothing to overshadow the care in his eyes that had been there ever since they’d been partnered together.

He’d had her back, risking his life for her, and she’d been grateful that he’d protected Henry from losing the only parent he had left even when she’d wanted to scream at him for exposing her to potentially having to carry his death on her conscience. She’d even done it a couple of times but she’d stopped wasting her time and efforts after he’d given her a look as calm as she would’ve never managed after he’d almost gotten his heart pierced by a harpoon and had told her he was a survivor but he wouldn’t regret giving his life for her and for her son to not be left an orphan. All her strength had poured out in the tears she’d hoped he understood were all his fault and she’d decided to spare herself the exhaustion of trying to talk some sense into him when he’d obviously gone insane. Who talked like that?

Emma rolled her eyes. “Just get in before I change my mind,” she said, returning her attention to getting rid of her jacket only to notice her hands were now trembling.

She almost groaned in despair and considered the option of just going to bed with it. It could be what she needed, the one normal thing in the situation to keep her grounded, but she shrugged the thought off as quickly as she wished she could do with the jacket. It would just feel stuffy and get her to sweat underneath the covers, crushing what little hope she had of falling asleep with all that restless energy still inside her.

Scraping what little patience had remained on the walls of her mind, she managed to unpack herself at last with careful and meticulous movements that left her so tired she straight up collapsed in bed feeling the pressure building in her eyes and pushing her to cry with the awareness she wouldn’t be able to fall asleep that every passing second kept stuffing in her mind.

“Good night, Swan,” Killian said when she managed to gather enough energy to pull the covers over herself without falling apart in the process. His voice was so soft compared to the sharpness filling her that she wished to push him out of bed to stop the temptation of finding a way to get some of that for herself. She wouldn't find any of it inside her, even the thoughts of Henry only making the restlessness inside her more acute rather than helping, and she wouldn’t let herself ask him to help her soothe what was supposed to stay quiet in her head.

She didn’t answer, hoping he’d decide she’d fallen asleep as that wouldn’t be far-fetched after the killer day they’d had even when she knew he wouldn’t fall for it. He was extremely observant and would be able to tell her mind was still racing by the reflection of that exertion in her breathing. He had the same superpower of detecting lies as her when it came to her, as if he was stealing it from her to use against her, and she could only hope he’d mind his business and fall far away from her in sleep. She’d made sure to turn her back on him to make it easier for him to ignore her and not feel the need to pull the gentleman act.

She got her wish in the fashion of vicious mockery from the universe, of course, as Killian didn’t try to talk to her and she was left to drown in her thoughts instead. She couldn’t stop them as they kept flowing, a string of pain stitched together when her memories bled into each other.

The foster homes, the hunger, that cutting starvation for affection that refused to die no matter how many walls you built around it to trap it and make it give up at last, Neal smiling, him stealing a cheap keyring with a swan that she still wore as a necklace because it meant so much, the pain in her hands after she’d made herself bleed by hitting a wall when all she’d wanted had been to hit his father for getting him killed with his illegal business, the pain in her heart when she’d found out she was pregnant with his child that she could never raise on her own because what did she know about being a mother? What did she know of love now that she’d just lost what little of it she’d ever had? And then more of that.

She could still remember the pain tearing through her whole being when she’d thought of giving Henry up for adoption. It had turned even more vicious when she’d changed her mind–or rather, had it changed by Mary Margaret who’d been there for her ever since she’d gotten herself to the hospital to have her hands bandaged after she’d done her best to fuck them up like the hurt and anger had been doing to her heart–as the doubts had started eating at her and her own memories had tried to leap at her baby to suffocate it in the pain of missing a parent. She’d had the hardest time believing she could be enough to fill for Henry that emptiness she’d carried inside her her whole life because she’d never had parents, no one had ever wanted her. But she’d wanted him. She wanted him so much, wanted to take care of him and give him all the love he somehow managed to create in her heart, wanted to give him the love she would’ve given his father and that Neal would’ve given him. It was the best way to honor his memory.

Henry had been the one good thing in her life, the one that had taught her to take care of someone else other than herself and to open up her heart. She’d had to bring down the walls around her heart for him, to let him in, to love him, and she’d done it. And for once it hadn’t brought pain because Henry was just magic like that. He was her miracle and she wouldn’t ask for more. She didn’t need more, didn’t need anyone else.

She turned around, angry at the tears trying to enter her eyes and determined to leave them behind.

“Can’t sleep, love?” Killian’s voice startled her before his face being so close to hers that she could see his eyes even in the darkness of the room could.

“Why are you awake?” she hissed, keeping her voice down when there was no need as anything she could’ve disturbed was already up and running, and kicking, too, to remind it was there, in front of her, and she had nowhere to go even if she jumped out of bed and back into the pickup David had lent them as they were trying to stay unnoticeable and a police cruiser definitely stood out.

“I could ask you the same question,” Killian said, his voice not carrying any traces of offense and it made her want to scream at him once again for how calm he always remained even when she was pushing against him. And she couldn’t even accuse him of pretending because he was still there after she’d done much more to drive him away than any of the foster families that had taken her in had needed to kick her out again. He was still there, sticking around, even when she’d made it clear that she wasn’t looking for a relationship, much less for a fling, and with a colleague no less, and she couldn’t understand his motive. What was keeping him at her side when no one else had ever wanted to stay and the one person who had had been taken away?

“I’m thinking about Henry,” she said, not trying to lie to him because it would have no effect anyway. He would just keep up the caring attitude until she relented and told him what was truly bothering her and she just had no more energy left for anything.

“He’s fine,” Killian said, his reassurance effective when she knew that if it’d been someone else, she would’ve been offended for having her concerns brushed away. But Killian wasn’t like that. He’d always listened when she was worrying about her son and had given some surprisingly good advice despite having no experience in parenting except for a pickpocketing, homeless teenager daughter that he’d practically adopted and was helping make her life at least somewhat normal. It was heartwarming. His concern for both kids was. So she didn’t find a reason to doubt his words. “I’m sure Mary Margaret and David are taking good care of him.” Even less to argue with there.

She’d become fast friends with Mary Margaret and her and her husband had helped her immensely throughout the years. She wasn’t certain she would’ve ever been able to do it without them, without the endless help they provided with Henry and not only. They both had been there for her, listening to her concerns like she wasn’t used to anyone doing, offering comfort and a shoulder to cry on, and a hand when she was in need, and that meant so much because she’d always been. They were the friends she hadn’t dared hope for.

Killian startled her out of her thoughts again when he threw the blankets aside and got up. She wanted to ask what he was doing but the question refused to get out so she had to resign to the anticipation settling inside her and trying to shake her even more than she already was while he rummaged through the bag with documentation on the case he’d brought along.

It seemed to take forever even when she knew it wasn’t. She was used to her mind pulling time apart and creating eternities for her to suffer through while her life remained suspended in its cocoon of pain and she’d learned to recognize when it did so, could almost calculate the ratio between reality and the other reality in her head. She’d learned at least that in twenty-eight years of it happening almost constantly with the happy moments being the only ones that were quick to slip through her fingers leaving her nails sinking in her own skin when she tried to hold the memories in the palms of her hands because her heart was fragile and she was afraid to let them touch it, not to mention that she didn’t know if it would be a good enough home for them.

“I always carry this with me,” Killian sat back down on the bed and opened his palm to reveal a seashell. “When I can’t sleep, the sound of the waves helps me calm down,” he said, his voice never wavering like hers did when she had to share something personal, and neither did his devotion to her as became clear when realization hit her.

He hadn’t gotten up to get his shell so his sleeplessness had nothing to do with inability to dive into rest and everything to do with him staying awake for her, to make sure she was okay. It was too much to put that knowledge in her head and it started trying to leak out of her eyes once again, and she didn’t know how much longer she could hold it back.

“My mother’s love is tangled into the sea for me, the shanties she’d sing to me having the rhythm of the ocean and the way she’d rock my hammock–yeah, I did sleep in a hammock, what else to want from a little pirate at heart–made it feel like a ship carried gently by the waves,” Killian said, his gaze on her as if he wasn’t afraid of letting her see into his soul and the life that was kept there, as if that was exactly his goal, and she couldn’t understand that kind of bravery when she knew he’d been abandoned too, by his father, and had lost his brother. His openness made no sense. “It helps soothe me,” he said and she could see how that would be the case even if she’d never had a parent’s affection. It sounded beyond lovely and she wanted to believe that she’d managed to give that to Henry at least.

“Do you have a lot of nightmares?” she found herself asking, trying to comprehend the kind of person that he was and how he could share so freely with her, how he could trust her when she knew his life hadn’t been easy either. Losing his hand couldn’t have been anything short of a tragedy, and the woman he’d loved, too.

He’d shared that with her when he’d found her staring at her swan keyring and had gotten her to share her own pain which she tried to hate him for to this day but it always just turned into gratitude instead, for he’d taken a load off her shoulders. Especially when he’d supported her decision not to let Neal’s father anywhere near Henry no matter how he tried to frighten her into allowing him in his grandson’s life since she was afraid her son would suffer his father’s fate. She’d hoped Neal would understand, wherever he was, and for some reason Killian’s reassurance that he would had helped put her concerns to rest like she could never hope to do for him.

“Only one,” Killian answered, his voice empty this time like she’d never heard it before.

Oh.

Emma moved to take the shell from him, feeling sheepish as she did so but it only lasted until it was in her hand. The effect was instantaneous with everything the shell meant to her when she knew he’d trusted her to share the story of his lucky charm with her and had given up his own means to repel the nastiness of the past to help her. She wasn’t used to someone else sacrificing their own comfort for her except for Mary Margaret and David, who she’d come to think of as the exception, and it definitely struck a nerve. That was not such a rare occurrence but this time it was different. Her awareness of her vulnerability in the situation that had prompted him to do so wasn’t so acute and threatening when she knew she wasn’t alone in it. He was there with her.

“Thanks,” Emma said as she looked into his eyes before focusing on the shell as she brought it to her ear. The sound of the sea entered her mind to wash away what had been suffocating her before and she soon drifted off to sleep, carried by the waves.

[lovejirahmae16]

5 Essential Ways to Evaluate Language Use in Media

 Each medium has its own ‘language’ or ‘grammar’ that works to convey meaning in a unique way. ‘Language’ in this sense means the technical and symbolic ingredients or codes and conventions that media and information professionals may select and use in an effort to communicate ideas, information and knowledge. While the medium may affect how messages are received, the users’/audiences’ own background/experience may also affect the interpretation of messages. An important first step in becoming media and information literate is to understand how information, ideas and meaning are communicated through and by various media and other information providers, such as libraries, archives, museums and the Internet. (UNAOC, 2020)

DEFINITION OF TERMS

GRAMMAR

           The systematic study and description of language is called Grammar. A set of rules dealing with Syntax and word structure of language. In linguistics, grammar is the set of structural rules that govern the composition of clauses, phrases, and words in any given natural language. The study of such rules, and this field includes morphology, syntax, and phonology, often complemented by phonetics, semantics, and pragmatics.

REGISTER

           According to Nordquist (2018), a register is defined as the way a speaker uses language differently in different circumstances - determined by factors as social occasion, context, purpose, and audience - determine the vocabulary, structure, and some grammar in one’s writing and even in one’s oral discourse 

1.      Frozen - it refers to historic language or communication that is intended to remain unchanged, like a constitution or a prayer. Examples: The Holy Bible, The United States Constitution, The Bhagavad Gita, and Romeo and Juliet

2.      Formal - is used in professional, academic, or legal settings where communication is expected to be respectful, uninterrupted, and restrained. Slang is never used and contractions are rare. Examples: a TED talk, a business presentation, the Encyclopedia Brittanica, and Gray’s Anatomy by Henry Gray

3.      Consultative - is used in conversation when they are speaking with someone who has specialized knowledge or who is offering advice. Tone is often respectful (use of courtesy titles), but may be more casual if the relationship is longstanding or friendly. Examples: the local TV news broadcast, an annual physical examination, a service provider like a plumber

4.      Casual - is used when they are with friends, close acquaintances and co-workers, and family. Examples: a birthday party, a backyard BBQ

5.       Intimate - is reserved for special occasions, usually between only two people and often in private Examples: an inside joke between two college friends or a word whispered in a lover’s ear 

Language registers are classified as:

1. Formal Language Register - is more appropriate for professional writing and letters to a boss or a stranger - is impersonal, meaning, it is not written for a specific person and without emotion

2. Informal Language Register - is conversational and appropriate when writing to friends and people you know very well.

STYLISTICS

Stylistics is a branch of applied linguistics concerned with the study of style in texts, especially, but not exclusively, in literary works. Also called literary linguistics, stylistics focuses on the figures, tropes, and other rhetorical devices used to provide variety and a distinctness to someone's writing. It is linguistic analysis plus literary criticism.

PRAGMATICS

 Pragmatics is a branch of linguistics concerned with the use of language in social contexts and the ways people produce and comprehend meanings through language. The term pragmatics was coined in the 1930s by psychologist and philosopher Charles Morris. Pragmatics was developed as a subfield of linguistics in the 1970s.

SEMIOTICS

Defines as a general philosophical theory of signs and symbols that deals especially with their function in both artificially constructed and natural languages and comprises syntactics, semantics, and pragmatics

DISCUSSION

TYPES OF MEDIA

Print Media

According to the International Encyclopedia of Political Communication “Print media are traditional mass media published on paper. The concept not only includes the published products but also regards the organizational context shaping the journalistic routines and norms behind the printed products. It mainly comprises of newspapers and magazines. News magazines also serve an information function, whereas most other magazines are more committed to entertainment and leisure.

Here are ways to evaluate this type of media:

Registers

Newspaper, educational books and other magazines uses formal register, while leisure books and some magazines use casual to formal register.

Stylistics

Newspaper and educational books follow a certain standard upon publishing and they use formal writing.

Grammar

Kress abd van Leeuween stated that there is a trend in which, increasingly, the written text is no longer structured by linguistic means, through verbal connectors, and verbal cohesive devices, just a special arrangement of block of text. Writer writes their message to expressed not only linguistically, but also through a visual arrangement of marks on a page.

Semiotics

Print Media also contain images as well as text, and those images contains hidden meaning from its color to the lines. As signs, both sensory icons and textual symbols are mere meaningless marks unless and until they acquire meaning through the addition of semantic content, i.e., the relations between signs and the things they stand for. Semiotics helps us to understand deeply and somewhat fully the world of signs and symbols.

Pragmatics

Journalist and editors have been discovering and then using new ways of expression and addressing the public. It makes up a large proportion that people read and hear every day. How tabloid newspapers use language in a projection of their assumed readers' speech is how they construct their own images and their relationships to an unseen, unknown audience.

Visual Media

Visual Media is defined as the sources of data or information in the form of visual representation. It is commonly used in learning that uses pictures, videos, and infographics that is proven to be a creative and one of the best ways for a child learning.

Here are ways to evaluate this type of media:

Register

For movies and television, visual media uses almost all of the registers depending on the role of the actor they wanted to portray. News uses formal register while advertisement uses casual.

Stylistics

Media uses different effects that enables observer to analyse the structure of media messages without ignoring the interpretative processes of the audience.

Grammar

The actor/speaker of the video shows relevant function of speech acts. All of these functions are present hierarchically in every act if verbal communication, therefore determining the verbal structure of the messages is elaborated.

Semiotics

Producers embed meanings and signs that is for the audience to interpret and received, and most of the time, the meanings are hidden and is only visible for an observant eye. The kind of signs that are likely to cross our mind immediately are those which we routinely refer to as ‘signs’ in everyday life, like religious signs, road signs, and public utility signs.

Pragmatics

Visual media focuses on the viewers that they are able to see the subject’s body language, gestures, and hear their intonations is a big factor to understand the information easily.

Electronic Broadcasting Media

Electronic Broadcasting Media is the media that one can share on any electronic device for the audiences viewing, unlike static media (Printing) electronic media is broadcasted to the wider community. They may include television, radio, Internet, fax, CD-ROMs, DVD, and any other medium that requires electricity or digital encoding of information. There is a wide range of Electronic media that broadcast a variety of different things like advertisements and promotions.

Here are ways to evaluate this type of media:

Register

An example of the electronic broadcasting media is Commentaries on Live Events. Often constructed partly as a conversation between the commentator and summarizer, separated by the (often longer) passages of commentary. Register will be stylized, specialized, professional, colloquial. Thus, the register used in this type of Electronic Broadcasting Media is formal or consultative depending on the content.

Stylistics

A study of Bell (1991) looked at the style of language used in radio news broadcasts in New Zealand. “Single news-readers heard on two different stations showed a remarkable and consistent ability to make considerable style shifts to suit the audience … only the audience correlated with these shifts … In mass communication, a broadcaster’s individual style is routinely subordinated to a shared station style whose character can only be explained in term of its target audience” (Bell, 1991).

Grammar

Electronic Broadcasting Media requires the six C’s. Clear-- simple, understandable, express NOT impress. Concise-- get to the main point Conversational ―for the ear. Current-- timely copy in content and sound.  Correct --free of factual errors, spelling & grammar. A commentary will use the special lexis and jargon of the sport/event in question. Simple and undemanding vocabulary, typical of speech.

However, in news programs, the goal is to give the listeners a lot of information in a very short time. Therefore, the news has to be worded in a way that it is easy to understand and to follow. News language has to be absolutely concise and neutral. And since the aim is to convey a maximum of information in a minimum amount of time, there is no room for literary style in the news.

Semiotics

In TV and radio news, the neutral tone of anchormen is a sign that implies the myth of performer and news `organization that he represents. In the top headlines at first, the political news then economic news is read, thus the hierarchy of announcement of news implies connotation. TV function as a sign system is the result of the interaction between different sign systems. Television uses two mediums, visual (text, fixed and moving images) and audio media (speech, silence, music and environmental sounds). Thus, TV news codes are concluded of language codes (written and spoken), image codes (fixed and moving), code of silence, music codes and codes of environmental sounds (sound segment), paralanguage spoken and written codes, codes of aspect, gesture codes and codes of hand and facial gestures. Radio is an audio media, so in order to identify the end of a news and the beginning of the next; the news is read by two speakers, men and women, respectively, which implies the end of a news story and start the next. After the latest headlines, there is short music again. Also, the music of starting detailed news is a sign that calls the audience's attention and implies the importance of the program, and also implies the end of headlines and starting of detailed news.

Pragmatics

Commentaries also make extensive use of the names of the participants, especially in team games, usually by last name only (Dyer, Shearer, Van Meir, Philips) - the commentator may have given the full name at the start, but the audience is expected to know them well enough anyway.

Sometimes, historical facts are given, perhaps as a mark of respect and the use of the names also has relevance to pragmatics since the audience knows not only that, say, Philips is Kevin Philips but that in this match he is playing at his club ground (he was a Sunderland player in 1999) and also that he is a forward, so that mention of his name suggests where the action is happening on the pitch.

Outdoor Media

Any advertising that is done outdoors that publicizes a business’ products or services is considered to be outdoor advertising. Businesses utilize outdoor advertising for many reasons, the biggest being location. Not only does this method of advertising allow you to select exactly where your ads will be, it provides guaranteed access to the audience, sometimes as often as every day. 

Here are ways to evaluate this type of media:

Register

Marketing on social media sites tends to lean more towards an informal register, focusing on a younger demographic that prefers a more casual tone. There is even evidence to suggest that it is precisely this shift towards digital communication that has led to the increased use of informal language.

Stylistics

Copywriters deploy different sentence types to achieve different effects. For instance, periodic sentences are used to create suspense. Periodic sentences raise curiosity in the readers as they want to know exactly what the advertisement is taking about. Advertising copywriters also inject life into their messages by deploying figurative language. Figurative expressions tend to beautify language by making it appealing and evocative.

Grammar

One of the characteristics of human language is that it is rule-governed. Every language has a limited set of rules which its users apply recursively to produce an unlimited number of novel sentences. Whenever the rules are violated ungrammatical sentences are produced. Advertising copywriters pay greater attention to reaching their audience than to constructing grammatical sentences. To achieve their aim of communicating messages that can be read at a glance, they deliberately violate the grammatical rules of the language of the advertisement.

Semiotics

Given that advertising could function as an expression or reinforcement of ideology, semiotics’ analysis occupies a significant place within the framework of encoding and decoding adverts’ messages. Regarding encoding, it allows advertisers to deliver meaningful messages, associating the product with consumers’ lives and values. Considering the decoding process, semiotics provides the tools of study the hidden meanings of advertisements through analyzing verbal and non-verbal signs.

Pragmatics

certain word formations are peculiar to the language of advertising because the goal of the profession is to send advertising messages across in the shortest time and space available. Since time and space are of much importance in billboard advertising, it uses a lot of short and jerky sentences, positive, comparative and superlative degrees, figurative expressions; modifiers, appeals and deviant structures to create beauty and effectiveness around the advertised products or services. As a specialist area, advertising has its own specialized language. It tends to have unique word choice and syntactic structures which enable the copywriters to capture the attention of the audience within seconds.

Transit Media

Transit media refers to advertising placed in, on, or around modes of public transportation: buses, subways, and taxis. It is a great way to reach a really diverse audience: families traveling, professionals, etc.

Here are ways to evaluate this type of media:

Register

Transit media uses formal to casual register of language depending on the kind of advertisment is shown.

Stylistics

There has been a trend in recent years to which transit media switches from formal to informal, friendly mode of communication between businesses and consumers.

Grammar    

Subtle cultural nuances and social contexts need to be considered when localizing any text, particularly those destined for marketing use.

Semiotics

Transit media prefer to engage with shorter, easy to digest advertising. They don’t really use symbolism since people don’t have enough time to think through because it is on transportation.

Pragmatics

Transit media follows a level of formality is appropriate for their new target audience, and how will the marketing strategy be adapted to each new environment.

Digital Media

Digital media is any form of media that uses electronic devices for distribution. This form of media can be created, viewed, modified and distributed via electronic devices. Digital media is commonly used software, video games, videos, websites, social media, and online advertising. 

Here are ways to evaluate this type of media:

Register

Twitter is neither homogenously “conversation-like” nor “written like” in style. That is, twitter content can differ in formality depending on the community and underlying communication type. Thus, the language register used in the Digital Media is informal, more on consultative or casual registers.

Stylistics

 Users of the digital media make much greater use of twitter hashtags to label their posts.  This points to a more careful use of the posts and a curatorial intent, where hashtags serve to direct a tweet to the right audience when author and readers do not know each other. More instances of exclamations and questions, and more non-standard strings of exclamation and question marks. The abundance of exclamations suggests the messages are more likely to be strongly emotive. Emotions of one kind are also suggested by the number of messages or status posted on social media.

Grammar

Just as the digital media alters the usage of our language, so, too, does it introduce new usage of grammar and vocabulary. With the need for quick and succinct language and communications online, full verb phrases have become common acronyms that are now used in everyday settings and not just online. 

Semiotics

Digital Media contents create different meanings through signs, symbols, text, images, graphics, and color. For example, Kress and Van Leeuwen (1996)   states, visual communication can be expressed through different uses of color or different   compositional structures.  Hèléne states that, “Visuals are used not only to illustrate   news and feature genres but also in advertising and campaigns that attempt to persuade   their target audiences to change attitudes and behaviours”. Advertisements are   supposed to evoke emotions.  Hèléne also states that, “Visuals are thought to  send people   along  emotive pathways  where  textual/verbal  material leaves  them  in a  more  rational,   logical  and  linear pathway  of  thought” (2008).  Viewers  will interpret  the  advertisement   according to  their  own life  experiences.  Kress and  Van  Leeuwen (1996)  state,  “Visual   structures  realize  meanings as  linguistic  structures do  also,  and thereby  point  to different   interpretations  of experience  and  different forms  of  social interactions”

Pragmatics

 In the digital media, sending text messages or chats mirrors a great change in language, specially pragmatics. The advent of social network communication has changed the way people speak and write English drastically. These electronic networks have allowed the users to conduct electronic communication in different styles that is formal and informal and use many types of electronic communication such chats, posts, tweets, comments and discussions. Electronic networks acronyms are one of the most remarkable features, which save time, space and energy. So, successful communication requires awareness of the pragmatic functions of the acronyms used in social network conversations.

CONCLUSION

The importance of media is incomparable that it undoubtedly made our lives convenient and different. Many of us have already encountered and have used the different media mentioned above, but this paper is for the further exploration and explanation for the future generation who wanted to learn more about the media linguistically.  

 REFERENCES:

Reham M. Khalifa (2015). International Journal of English Language and Linguistics Research Vol.3, No.4, pp.37-49. http://www.eajournals.org/wp-content/uploads/Pragmatic-Functions-of-Social-Networks-Acronyms.pdf

Paris, C. et. al., (2005). Differences in Language and Style Between Two Social Media Communities. file:///C:/Users/Acer/Downloads/4626-21996-1-PB.pdf

Maryam M. (2007). A Comparative Study of Semiotics in Radio & TV News. International Journal on Studies in English Language and Literature (IJSELL) Volume 5, Issue 1, January 2017, PP 61-65. https://www.arcjournals.org/pdfs/ijsell/v5-i1/8.pdf

Eruchalu, G. (2015). AN ANALYSIS OF THE LINGUISTIC FEATURES OF BILLBOARD ADVERTISING IN NIGERIA. http://www.jmel.com.ng/index.php/jmel/article/viewFile/50/49

Mohd, F. (2019). The Role of Semiotics in Advertising: Communicative Approach. http://languageinindia.com/feb2019/faizansemioticsmarketing.pdf

Albion Languages. (2020). Registers, which is Suitable for Marketing Materials. Albion.

Baron, N. (2000). Alphabet to email: How written English evolved and where it's heading. New York: Routledge.

           Mkhize, V. (1993). The spoken and the written word: stylistic creation in Black broadcasting. http://ukzn-dspace.ukzn.ac.za/handle/10413/

           AB  Print. (2017). why is print media important. AB print group ltd.

           Eilders,  C. (2016). Print media. wiley online library.

           Gagnon,  E. M. (2019). THE IMPORTANCE OF VISUAL MEDIA. GrandPR.

           Mellinger-Bean,  B. (2018). introduction of print media. bizfluent.

           Naushahi,  A. (n.d.). importance of print media. daily times.

           Naveed,  F. (2012). mass communication talk. masscomm.

           Taylor,  B. M. (2015). Media Grammar. pressbooks.

           Thummy,  F. A. (2017). Semiotic analysis of media content. grin.

           Weebly.  (2018). MIL Intensive Teacher Training. Visual Media and Information.

 AUTHORS:

DIASANTA, JIRAHMAE

MARAYA, MARIBETH

MARGATE, CAMILLE ROSE

[reid-fiction]

A Little Early - Part 1

In which you are pregnant and go to a birthday party.

a/n: Okay, so I’m excited for this! This is going to be a 3-part story based on a great request I got from @reid-effect. I’ve tried to stay fairly close to her original idea, but I have changed a few tiny details. This is Part 1. The other two parts will follow in the next week, or whenever I have a moment to write them. Hope you enjoy!

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Spencer was hovering.

To be fair, Spencer had been hovering for the last 6 months or so, but in the later weeks of your pregnancy, it felt like he never left you alone. You weren’t sure if it was just the hormones that were making you more irritable than usual, but you honestly had moments where you were sure you were about to lose your mind and kick him out. If you didn’t love him so much, you probably would have already done that.

Being 32 weeks pregnant was no joke. Even though the last two trimesters had seemed to fly by, time was now dragging on and on and the circled due date on your calendar felt like it was ages away. It didn’t help that - even thought it was November - your house was unbearably hot most days. Spencer insisted that it actually wasn’t that hot at all but had told him that, until he was 32 weeks pregnant, he wasn’t allowed to argue with you about the temperature. You had just started your official maternity leave so, while Spencer was off at work, you found yourself mostly just sitting around trying to keep yourself cool.

It was boring, and you were over it. 

Which is why, when JJ had called up Spencer a week or so ago and invited the two of you to Henry’s birthday party, you had immediately said that you’d go. Just the thought of being able to get out of the house and socialize for a few hours - even though it was a child’s birthday party - sounded like heaven. 

Spencer, on the other hand, was a bit more wary of the idea. You still had at least a month to go before the baby was born, but your darling husband - with his encyclopedic knowledge of anything and everything - was worried. He knew the triggers of early labor and that was the last thing he wanted to have happen, even though you assured him that you felt absolutely fine. Most normal pregnant women were out and about right up until their due date and nothing went wrong. 

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You could still remember the moment when Spencer had awkwardly brought up the idea of having a baby for the first time. Truthfully, you had been thinking about it since before you were even married, but your job was a lot more flexible and a lot less stressful and time-consuming than Spencer’s was. It would be a big commitment - not just for you as a couple - but also for him in his career if you brought a child into the mix.

Your second anniversary had just passed when he finally asked you if you wanted to try for a baby. You could tell that something had been on his mind for the past few days, but couldn’t put your finger on what it was. It wasn’t until the two of you were getting ready for bed one evening that he cleared his throat and bit the bullet.

“So, uh...I was thinking.”

“Mm? What about, love?”

“Well, we’ve been married for a while now and I feel like things are going pretty well, right?”

You had laughed, putting your toothbrush back in it’s resting place and reaching for a makeup remover cloth.

“I’d say so,” you replied, running the wipe over the product on your face. “This is a strange lead-in to whatever you’re thinking about, Spence.”

You were expecting him to respond with something silly like painting your bedroom or buying some new appliance, but you had nearly choked on your own tongue when he announced,

“I think we should try to have a baby.”

You had swallowed and turned slowly to look at him. The expression on your face a mixture of shock, confusion and slight amusement.

“You think we should...try for a baby?”

Spencer nodded, and you could tell that he was full of nerves.

“How long have you been sitting on this idea?”

“A while,” Spencer shrugged. “I just wasn’t sure if it was too soon?”

You smiled then, folding your arms across your chest and leaning back against the bathroom counter.

“Too soon? Baby, I’ve been thinking about having kids with you for years.”

Spencer had raised an eyebrow, and you swore you saw the beginnings of a smirk on his lips before he quickly shut it down.

“Really?”

“Yes!” you laughed.

“Why didn’t you say so before?” Spencer said, with a hint of a whine in his voice as his shoulders finally relaxed. “You would have saved me the last few months of agonizing over how to bring it up!”

You had walked over to him then, wrapping your arms around his waist, and peering up until your eyes met his.

“Let’s have a baby, Spencer.”

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It wasn’t that you were regretting your decision to have a baby - not in the slightest - in fact, you were positively giddy whenever you came home with a new item for the nursery. You couldn’t wait to be a mom, and you knew that Spencer couldn’t wait to be a dad. Even moreso, you could wait to see Spencer be a dad; the thought alone was enough to melt your heart.

But you were so totally, completely, 100% over being pregnant. You just wanted the baby out and Spencer to go back to his normal self because having him around you literally ALL the time was driving you nuts.

The morning of Henry’s birthday party, you weren’t feeling well. It wasn’t anything abnormal, there were many days when you woke up feeling like you had been hit by a truck and your baby was playing the drums on your ribs. That morning was no different. The baby had been incredibly active the night before which resulted in you not getting a lot of sleep. And, because you had been awake, Spencer had also been awake.

“Maybe we shouldn’t go,” he said at breakfast. “You look like you need to rest.”

“I’m fine,” you muttered. “The party isn’t until 1pm.”

“I just don’t want you to overexert yourself. There’s going to be a lot of people there and a lot of kids.”

“Spencer...” you sighed. “I need to get out of this house. I’m going stir-crazy. I feel like I haven’t seen anyone but you in a week. I’m hot, I’m tired, I’m bored, and I just want to have a few hours where I feel like I’m not a beached whale.”

You could see the hesitation on his face, so you slowly eased yourself up out of your chair and walked over to where he stood.

“I’m fine,” you reassured him, smiling this time as best you could and bringing his hand down to rest on your belly. “We’re fine. I promise. A few hours over at Will and JJ’s isn’t going to kill me.”

It took him a moment, but you finally saw his face relax when he felt your baby kick against the palm of his hand. 

“A few hours,” he said. “But, if you start to feel too tired or overwhelmed, I want you to promise that you’ll say something so I can get you home.”

“Scout’s honor,” you answered. “Thank you.”

Spencer leaned over to place a gentle kiss on the tip of your nose, and you giggled. 

Your stomach had settled down a bit by the time you and Spencer left the house, but you still weren’t feeling 100%. The two of you made a quick stop at the mall to pick up a present for Henry before making your way to Will and JJ’s place. By the time you got there, the backyard was already swarmed with kids. It was an unusually warm day for November, so all the parents had simply put their kids in warm clothing and sent them out to play. The screams and laughter weren’t exactly helping the headache that had come on a bit earlier, but you were just happy to be in proximity to other people.

JJ greeted the two of you with a hug, making a sweet comment about how amazing you looked. Truthfully, you felt like a walrus who was just trying to get yourself from Point A to Point B most days without breaking a sweat, but you appreciated the compliment. You imagined that pregnant women look amazing to everyone other than the person who is pregnant.

Michael - JJ’s youngest - ran and crashed into Spencer, giving his legs the biggest hug he could upon seeing you arrive. Spencer laughed, bending to lift the three-year-old up into his arms. You could feel your heart flutter with adoration whenever you saw Spencer interacting with a child, and your hormones threatened to bring tears to your eyes at the mere sight of him holding Michael, even though both kids clung to Spencer like a tree every time you saw them.

“When’s the baby gonna come, Uncle Spencer?” Michael asked, pointing to your belly.

“In a few more weeks, hopefully.”

“Hopefully,” you echoed, giving a very tired smile to JJ, knowing she understood exactly what you were experiencing. 

The first hour of the party had gone down without a hitch. You had a few moments where you had to take a bit of a breather, but you were feeling much better than you had earlier that morning. Being able to socialize with other adults was also doing wonders for your mood. 

It was just about the time where Henry was going to dig into his presents that you felt a sharp pain in your stomach. You grimaced, placing a hand on your bump and taking a slow, easy breath. You were thankful that Spencer hadn’t been paying attention in the moment, because he would have dropped everything and taken you home. The pain passed about 30 seconds later and you figured that perhaps your body had just not liked something you had eaten.

But, when the same pain came back about 10 minutes later, and then again in another 10 minutes, you started to get a little concerned. To make matters worse, the baby had decided to take up a position directly on your bladder. When you got yourself back under control, you leaned over to Spencer and squeezed his arm.

“I’ll be right back,” you said, quietly. “Just need a bathroom break.”

Spencer nodded, watching you as you waddled awkwardly into the house, before turning his attention back to Henry who was currently enthralled with a new LEGO set.

Spencer wasn’t particularly keeping track of how long you had been gone, but when the presents had finished being opened, he suddenly realized that you still weren’t back. Frowning, he turned and made his way into the house and down the hall in the direction of the bathroom. The door was still closed, so he knocked lightly, hoping he wasn’t about to disturb someone else.

“Honey? (Y/N), are you still in there?”

It took a moment, but then he heard your voice from behind the door.

“Yeah.”

“Are you okay? You’ve been in there for a while.”

There was another pause, but then he heard the click of the lock and the door opened just slightly to reveal your face.

Spencer immediately frowned in concern. You looked incredibly pale and he could see a look of fear on your face that he didn’t like.

“Sweetheart, what’s wrong?” he asked, opening the door wider and placing his hands on your cheeks. “You look like you’re about to be sick.”

“N-no,” you stammered, biting your lips. “But, Spence?”

“Yeah?”

“I think...I think my water just broke.”

To Be Continued...

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Tag List

@cynbx@gabriellewritermua @wheresthewater @toomanyfandomsshreya@thatisthemagic @helayes @marvelouspotterhead @randomfangirl1415 @criminally-me  @the-unfortunate-fangirl @everyday-imfangirling @skrrrrrrrrrrt @jhillio @elenarogersbarnes13 @reid-187 @spencerreid-iq187 @princesswagger15 @spence-imagines

[shireness-says]

Playing the Part

Prologue: Overture

Summary: As a stage manager who's clawed her way up from bottom, Emma Swan can handle just about anything thrown her way. But does that include handsome lead actor Killian Jones? A CS Broadway AU. Rated T for language. Also on AO3.

A/N: It’s finally here - the Broadway AU I’ve been threatening to write for ages! I’m excited to finally post this, and I hope you’re excited to read it. I’ve got a bunch of these saved up - 7 completed chapters and significant chunks of 4 more - so I should be able to post these every Monday.

I had a lot of help getting this to its final state, so special thanks to @katie-dub for coming up with the title, @kmomof4 for proofing my outline, and @snidgetsafan for her ever-exceptional beta skills. Y’all are the best.

Each chapter title will be pulled from musical songs. The overture is traditionally the music that plays after the lights dim but before the show starts, and oftentimes sets the stage for the show to come by combining snippets of the musical numbers to come.

Overarching disclaimer: my theater experience is purely on the community theater level and only on the techie side, not the acting side. I strive for accuracy, but pull on my own experience and as such may not achieve it.

Tagging those who have expressed interest or I think will like this: @winterbaby89, @thejollyroger-writer, @mythologicalmango, @allons-y-to-hogwarts-713, @revanmeetra87, @onceuponaprincessworld, @courtorderedcake, @snowbellewells, @branlovesouat, @aerica13, @searchingwardrobes, @teamhook, @awkwardnessandbaseball. Send me a message if you want me to keep tagging you or to be added to this list!

Without further ado: enjoy!

Emma Swan falls into working theater crew somewhat on accident.

That’s the story of her life, really – unexpectedly pregnant at 18, moved to New York on a whim (the reasoning being roughly “if not now, when?”), ended up with a job at Granny’s Diner because it happened to be next to what must be the only free parking in the city, and with a roommate because the owner’s granddaughter just happened to be looking for an apartment and a roommate at that very time.

In the same vein, while it was less of an accident that she became friends with Mary Margaret Blanchard (NYU theater major and friend of Ruby’s who liked to study at the diner), it was entirely by chance that Mary Margaret got her working crew. The truth of the matter is that Emma had a 4-month-old and very little cash, and the NYU theater department needed someone to do some scenery painting. While she may not have been the most artistic of people, Emma was pretty sure that she could handle putting paint on the wall. She could come in whenever she wasn’t working at Granny’s, and best of all, she could bring Henry with her in his carrier. It’s a perfect convergence of circumstances. The powers that be must have been pleased, because come show week, they’d asked her to stay and help move sets. And after that, well… things just spiraled from there.

The funny thing is that Emma had never considered herself a theater fan. When she had started working NYU shows, it had just been a job, not some great passion. Granted, she had only seen a terrible high school production of Fiddler on the Roof and a nearly worse community theater production of Ragtime – and both only because they were free and through her school at the time. There just wasn’t really a chance to see any quality theater as a foster kid. Ruby, when she found that out, naturally decided to fix the situation immediately by taking Emma and Mary Margaret to see Chicago for her own birthday. And as soon as Emma heard “All That Jazz”… she was gone. There was no going back.

Emma somehow found herself an unofficial member of the NYU theater family, especially when visiting lecturers and special events used the auditorium – events that still needed staffing but that the theater majors were reluctant to assist with. From there, she followed Mary Margaret and Ruby (their own aspiring costume designer) through their own smaller roles and shows. Ruby took extra classes in hair and makeup at a local cosmetology school, hoping to expand her portfolio of talents. Mary Margaret kept adding to her resume any way she could, working on any show that would cast her. And Emma somehow continued working her way up the ranks, recommended by word of mouth, towing a toddler (and later a child) along with her. Somehow, all those fortunate accidents brought her here, to this moment – an adult with her own place, a great kid, a support system of friends she views as family, and an ever-rising positive reputation in a decently paid profession. For someone who thought, ten years ago, that her life would be a series of dead end jobs and tiny apartments shared with roommates she’d despise, every day is like she’s living a dream.

This feels like the pinnacle of her achievements, however. She’s certainly worked as a stage manager before – in fact, it’s become her own niche, calling the shots. Her unconventional education has resulted in a working knowledge of nearly all the aspects of technical theater, which has proved incredibly helpful in dealing with her various colleagues. It’s like speaking another language - people are more willing to fill her in on the more complicated terminology when she shows she knows the basics. But this… this is a whole different thing. This isn’t one of her Off-Broadway shows, or one of her limited runs, but a major production. It wasn’t supposed to be – when she signed on as stage manager, set to work with a young director she came up with at NYU, it was still Off-Broadway, an adaptation of Pride & Prejudice they already knew would either be a huge hit or sink into obscurity. But then, some investor who loved the original work caught wind of Merlin’s vision, and suddenly, they had a significantly higher budget, a theater right in the heart of the theater district, and likely a lengthy run – if all goes well. Oh, and one more thing had significantly increased – the pressure on everyone involved.

Of course, just to complicate things, the change in venue isn’t the only thing weighing on Emma’s mind. Initially, Emma had been asked to serve as one of the assistant stage managers, to work backstage the way she prefers and relaying the stage manager’s orders, helping the entire show run smoothly. However, even that plan had changed. The intended production stage manager, finding herself pregnant with twins and violently ill as a result, chose not to participate in the show. Emma can’t blame her – she remembers how tired she was with Henry, and he was only one baby. But Merlin had then asked Emma to step up into an expanded role, saying that he trusted her for this position more than anyone else.

Emma’s flattered, she really is, but the truth is that she’s never run a show at this level. Call the cues for a show, check the equipment, coordinate everything that needs to happen? Yes, sure, of course. She can do that  in her sleep now (somewhat literally, sadly – she’s developed an unconscious habit of dreaming the various light cues). She’s stage managed her smaller shows without any issues. But with a budget this large and stakes this high? Feeling like she personally is the linchpin that could make this show soar or crash in spectacular fashion? On a show they’re all aware could make their careers? That’s new, and terrifying, and Emma privately wonders if she’s the right woman for the job.

But she takes the promotion for that very reason - it’s new, and an incredible opportunity to get her name out there if the production succeeds. She’d be an idiot to turn this down, but that doesn’t make her any less nervous.

Really, at the end of the day, this latest promotion is representative of how she’s made her way through most of her career – a bunch of happy accidents and an unwillingness to say no to any opportunity, now having lead her to a cold room and a crowd of men who all want to be Mr. Darcy.

Nice.

Honestly, this part of the job leaves her as basically a glorified secretary, recording everyone’s contact information so that she and Merlin can handle callbacks later. He asks for her opinion every so often, but honestly, what is he expecting her to say? She can’t carry a tune, and her opinions are usually “yeah, he seems like he won’t be a complete pain in my ass”. They’ve already pre-cast their Elizabeth – a lovely woman named Belle French, who had been an up-and-coming TV actress before an ugly scandal with a prominent producer – but Merlin had wanted someone new for Mr. Darcy. Emma can’t help but understand and agree with that decision – Mr. Darcy is somewhat of an unknown factor for so much of the source material, it seems appropriate that their actor also be something of an unknown quantity, someone the public doesn’t know how to define yet. Unfortunately, they must have overly emphasized the arrogant side of Darcy in the casting call, not the shy romantic, which seems to have brought out every egotistical actor in the city - all convinced that they would be perfect for the role. Don’t get her wrong, the arrogant façade Darcy presents is certainly important (and definitely present in this room, good lord), but Pride & Prejudice was one of the few books in high school Emma actually enjoyed – she knows there needs to be more than that. Whoever they choose needs to also be able to pull off a certain amount of vulnerability, a certain level of discomfort and awkwardness. So many of these would-be Darcys are just too… suave for her taste.

That’s why she’s particularly hopeful about this next prospect. He had swaggered in, as confident as the rest, but as she’d watched him interact with the others, there had been a certain amount of nerves that the rest weren’t letting show. He aces the choreography audition (perhaps because he throws himself into rehearsing in a way the others don’t, like it’ll ruin their persona if they’re shown practicing the steps), has a singing voice that will work well for Darcy (while looking adorable, scratching behind his ear when they ask about his relatively small experience on the stage). What really sells things for Emma, however, is how, when introduced to Belle for a test of how they’ll act together, he stutters over all his words and turns bright red after finally blurting out a “oh, I’ve heard so much about you!”. He’s an awkward mess behind that swagger and false confidence, and it’s a little perfect.

(It doesn’t hurt that he’s easy on the eyes, and one of the more polite Darcys she’s dealt with today.)

So when, after a very long day, she’s asked her opinion about the variety of men who auditioned that day, Emma doesn’t hesitate to put her personal vote in for Killian Jones.

God, she just hopes she doesn’t come to regret that decision.