#and you know... it's beckett's birthday today!!

[katebeckets]

see, every other day I agonize over my url/icon/header and it's literally SO unimportant, but to me it feels like choosing a favorite child

[itmeansiris]

The Solar System Legacy Challenge: In Memory of Jorden Gen 1 pt.52

The morning after the funeral Spirit walks around the house checking on everyone. Its early, not long after sunrise, but she was accustomed to being up in the morning to tend to the garden and fix breakfast and coffee before Jorden awoke. But on this morning she paced the halls checking cramped bedrooms to make sure everyone was sleeping comfortably. She's opens the door to find Zohreh awake and smiling, while the triplets sleep soundly. She sits on the edge of the toddler bed closes to his portable crib.

Spirit: Good morning Sunlight.

The name she bestowed on Zohreh for becoming a bright spot in her daughters life when everything seemed so bleak and stark in comparison at the time. He was also the only one of four kids to have Kason's blonde hair color.

Spirit: It seems only you and I know there is a day to be lived. No worries your grandma enjoys getting to monopolize your attention.

While she continues chatting Zohreh waves to Spirit and blows her a kiss. 2 milestones.

Spirit: Oh my aren't we full of life! That's just what your mommy needs from you my Sunlight. You're growing up so fast, and your birthday is in less than a week.

Spirit felt pure bliss at being the first to witness Zohreh's new milestones.

Out front Kason wakes up and grabs a cup of coffee. He hadn't slept much (checking on M and the kids through the night) and the couch hadn't been the most comfortable place to sleep. He doesn't hear her approach and Spirit scares him purposely. Kason jumps, startled by Spirits silent approach. She doubles over laughing. He takes a seat trying to recover.

Spirit: Thought I'd scare some life into you. Everyone around here seems so lifeless. Only one of us died. We do not need to act as if we are all gone.

Kason smiles happy to see Spirit her normal self.

Kason: How about you take a seat and I start on some breakfast. Oh care for a cup of Joe I started a pot its still hot.

Spirit: I'll pass on the coffee but breakfast sounds wonderful we do have a house to feed. How about French Toast.

Kason: I think I can make that happen.

Kason sets to task getting French toast made for the whole family, chatting animatedly with Spirit.

Spirit: I'll go check on Zohreh, he was up last time I checked. He's in good spirits today. He even laughed and blew his old grandma a kiss this morning.

In the hallway on the way to check on the kids Spirit runs into Mercury.

Spirit: Good morning Little Planet.

M: Good morning mom.

Spirit: Sunlight?

Mercury breaks into a grin following her mother into the kitchen.

M: He waved to me for the first time. He's been having a lot of first lately.

Spirit: Kisses, smiles, waves I think he's a feeler that one.

M: Good morning my love.

Kason: Good morning beautiful, how are you feeling this morning. Spirit requested French Toast for breakfast.

Spirit eardrops on the exchange having chose French Toast for one reason. Kason flips the last of the French Toast onto a plate.

M: French Toast sounds great. Look mom its even better than daddy's.

Kason softly exhales and Spirit smiles

Spirit: Anything was better than your fathers French Toast.

The rest of the family joins them.

That evening Beckett joins M in the yard. She'd been looking at the stars.

Beckett: Find anything interesting?

M: Wanna take a look?

He declines

Beckett: That was always you and dads thing I was never any good with a telescope. But I don't mind keeping you company.

M: You weren't any good cause you never used yours. You were too busy knocking it over with your soccer ball or your bike.

She teased. Beckett stretched out on the blanket

Beckett: Actually that was yours. Besides I used it right once...to look into the neighbors windows

M: Beckett! Oh my watcher! Did you really?

Beckett: Trust me all I got was a close up on parts of Mr.Linh that should never be seen by a child.

He stutter recalling the image

M: Which one?  Chánh or Arturo?

He rolls his eyes as she comes over to join him

Beckett: Really M does it matter? Besides I was trying to get a look at Ms.Cahyaputri daughter.

M: Ha, you were at the wrong window! Wait...is that why your telescope went missing in the middle of the night? And you told dad someone stole it.

Beckett: I thought he would kill me, it was so expensive and he really did try his best to teach me. But after what I saw I could never go near that thing again.

M: He didn't even ground you. He just went out and bought a chess table.

Beckett: Which I was much better at I might add. He must have known. No one in the neighborhood would have stolen the telescope and I made no secret how much I disliked the cursed thing.

M: Classic dad...I'm not sure I ever saw him mad.

Beckett: Nah. Dad didn't know how to be angry, everything just bounced off him. I used to think he was bottling up his anger until one day I realized he just embraced his carefree nature. It must have been nice not letting anything get you down...

Beckett:.......

He drops his head to his knees and buries his face. His next words raw with emotion.

Beckett: I miss him M....I know mom says to celebrate his life but it hurts...

Mercury was only a year older than Beckett and because they were so close in age and he was bigger than she was by the time they were 15 he always behaved and secretly told people he was her "Big Brother"

She pulled her little brother close

M: I know Bek. It's okay, I know how much it hurts.

She gets up and gets the jar of marbles below the stairs. She can see the remains of the last chalk circle her father had likely drawn.

M: How about a game?

PREV

NEXT

[newtonsheffield]

Another great update! 🫶🏻 Joan and Harold were absolutely hysterical. Do they meet Kate and Anthony again on another flight? I bet Joan would be elated to learn that they are together. Actually, Anthony should thank her because Joan told him first to tell Kate about his feelings. Even though, at that time, he hadn't thought he had any feelings towards Kate.

That’s one of the reasons I wanted to introduce Joan and Harold, apart from the fact that if this was happening on my flight I’d be obsessed with it. I love hearing the flight attendants gossip amongst themselves. Don’t know anyone that they’re talking aboutI just want to know 389% of everything going on.

But imagine Anthony seeing Joan file onto the flight, Harold in tow and Anthony sees his chance. He picks up the phone, calling the cockpit and snatching Edwina’s wrist as she passes to hold her in place.

“Everything alright babe?”

Anthony ignored the flutter in his chest at the endearment, “This could have been anyone, Captain Sharma, I’m appalled.”

“If you’re holding me here while you flirt with my sister, I’ll knee you in the balls.” Edwina hissed, “The love of my life is marrying someone else!”

Anthony waved her off as Kate chuckled, “Literally no one else ever calls me before we even take off. Do you want me to whisper in your ear Mr Bridgerton?”

“I just wondered if you wanted to have some fun this flight?”

Kate chuckled, “Quick reminder, honey, that Sophie can hear you asking me to meet you in the first class bathroom.”

“Not like that.” Anthony rolled his eyes, “Your sister’s trying to knee me in the balls.”

“He’s torturing me!”

“Just… make up something to be angry at me about in your announcement and I’ll do the rest.” Anthony rolled his eyes, jerking his head in the direction of 4D where Joan had seated herself. Edwina’s eyes lit up and she sighed.

“Finally something good happening.”

“I’m sure I’ll think of something.” Kate chuckled. “Okay, I have to fly this thing, the tower’s yelling in Sophie’s ear. Love you.”

“Yeah, me too.” Anthony hung up the phone, turning to Edwina, “Go for your life.”

Edwina slammed shut one of the drawers. “Anthony, honestly! You can’t just play with people’s lives like this! She really cares about you!”

“Oh my god, Harold! It’s them!”

Anthony bit back a grin and sighed, “It’s really complicated, Edwina!”

“It’s not! Sort yourself out!” And she strode off down the aisle clutching a blanket.

anthony watched Joan’s eyes following him intently as he strapped himself in for take off and he almost saw her jump out of her seat with excitement when Kate’s voice crackled over the PA

“Good Afternoon Ladies and Gentleman this is Captain Kate Sharma from the flight deck. Sitting to my right I have the lovely, if not slightly in denial First Officer Sophie Beckett and We’ll be taking you through to Singapore today. In the cabin today we’ve got an excellent crew, my sister Edwina who’s looking for a rebound, any eligible ladies please present yourself to Cabin manager, Anthony Bridgerton. Anthony who has refused to go to my Mother’s birthday party this weekend, even though he knew how hurtful that would be. And he never picks up his underpants!

Anthony hid his smile as he prepared the drinks trolley and Joan let out a loud gasp. “Ugh She wants more from the relationship! Harold!”

“Why are you so invested in this?!”

Mary’s birthday had been last week actually, he’d arrived with his arm around Kate’s shoulders and sat side by side with her Poppy all night.

“She’s a good girl, Anthony. I promised her Appa I’d look out for her when he passed away. But I don’t need to protect her from you, do I?”

“No Mr Sharma, Absolutely not.”

As the flight wore on Joan watched him more and more closely as Edwina nudged him viciously down the aisle with her cart.

“You’re laying it on a little thick.” Anthony hissed

“Chicken or Fish?” Edwina smiled at Joan who was watching them carefully. She turned back to Anthony, “Anthony here will get you a drink! Careful though, he likes promising people exactly what they want and then not following through!”

“Edwina, I told you before: It’s not that I don’t want to meet your Mum!”

“You won’t even admit that her son is yours!”

A collective gasp went through the passengers closest and Joan took a shuddering breath. “Oh there’s a child involved.”

There’s a corgi puppy involved, Anthony sighed internally, Who keeps chewing my shoes.

“That’s very complicated, Edwina!”

“Fine!”

It was clear that Joan was hanging around again, at the end of the flight, watching them closely as they packed away the meal services and went about the rest of the flight and finally, Anthony felt it was time for the big moment.

He snatched up the phone and cleared his throat as the PA crackled on.

“Attention, Ladies and Gentlemen! This is a message for Captain Kate Sharma.”

He could see Joan throw her headphones off, leaning forward in her seat.

“Kate, I love you! I love you, and I know that Newton’s my son, I don’t care what your Auntie says, I’m not too short for you! I love you!”

The cockpit door swung open dramatically and Kate appeared, her eyes dancing with delight as she wrapped her arms around his neck and pulled him in for a deep kiss.

“Very dramatic.” Kate whispered against his lips as Joan erupted into applause. “Guess you’re stuck with me now.”

“Apparently.”

[reigningqueenofwords]

We Have to Tell

Pairing: Bruce x Reader, Martha x Thomas, reader's parents Word count: 3,183

Read on AO3

Part 18 of Without Me

Once Beckett was in bed, the pair of you curled up together on the couch. Bruce gently took your hand. “A penny for your thoughts?” He asked softly. 

You licked your lips, tearing up. “I’m pregnant, Bruce.”

He widened his eyes. “What?” He shut off the tv. “When did you find out? How did…?” He started, shutting his mouth when he saw how upset you looked. 

“Last week.” You sighed. “I was trying to wait until after his birthday to mention it.” You sniffled. “And I know you’re excited to go back, and now I can’t ask you to take off again in the next seven months.” You shook your head. “Beckett isn’t even a year yet, either.” Which honestly, the thought of two under two scared the hell out of you. “I’m not ready!” 

Bruce took your hands in his. “Hey, hey. We’ll figure it out.” He smiled softly. “We’re expanding our family.” He said happily, pulling you close, kissing your temple. “You’ll be amazing with this baby, just like you are with Beckett.”

“But will I have to do it alone?” You asked suddenly. “I can’t ask you to leave work so long again.” You pointed out. “And my parents are too far, and they work.”

He kissed your knuckles. “I’ll do part time. Something. Anything to help.” He promised. “And I’m sure that we’ll be able to stay with my parents on weeks we know that it’ll be busy at work.” He went on. You only nodded, feeling scared for the future. You leaned on him, letting out a soft sigh. “We’ll do it.” He smiled. “I know we will. It just came sooner than we planned but the plan didn’t change.” He wanted to run and tell everyone, but had a feeling you were scared of that, too. “We’ll hire a nanny if we need to.”

“No!” You said instantly. “I don’t want a nanny. Ever.” You were hellbent that you’d never need one. 

“Okay. Alfred then.” He said quickly, not wanting to upset you. “We’ll do everything to make things as easy as we can.” 

“Okay.” You swallowed, wiping your face. “Okay.” You repeated softly.

He hugged you tight. “I love you so much.” He rubbed your back. “And our kids.”

You did everything in your power not to tell anyone about the new baby, but you started showing sooner with this baby. Come four months, and there was no way to even brush it off as gaining weight. You stayed home constantly and wouldn’t accept any visitors. You didn’t know what to do now. It was obvious no matter what you wore. 

Bruce called you one morning, asking you to come visit him at work. He’d left too early, and wanted lunch with you and Beckett. “Please babe? Pleaseeee.” He said cutely. 

“We haven’t announced anything, Bruce.” You said weakly. “I haven’t even told Maryanne!” You reminded him. 

“Well, she has something really important to tell you, too, so perfect timing!” He told you. “I’ll order from your favorite pizza place.” 

You wished he understood. “Fine.” You sniffled. “I’ll get ready and let you know when I’m on my way.” You told him. “Meet me in the lobby? Beckett will want to go after everything.”

“Alright, I will.” He said happily. “I love you.” He was smiling, you could tell. 

As you neared the lobby doors, you took a deep breath. Beckett was in his stroller, looking around as he hugged his favorite toy. “Daddy!” He said happily. “Daddy, daddy, daddy!” He pointed to him once he was through the lobby. 

Bruce’s face lit up as he crouched to unbuckle his son. “There’s my boy.” He lifted him, moving to kiss your cheek. “And my beautiful wife.”  

You looked extremely nervous and stayed close to him. “Can we go up quickly?” You asked. 

His smile faltered, but he nodded. “We have to tell people soon, babe.” He reminded you.

You nodded. “They’ll know after today.” You pushed Beckett’s stroller. “Is Maryanne meeting us in your office?” You asked, wondering what she had to tell you.

“Yeah.” Bruce hugged Beckett close. “She’s a bit excited.” He tickled his son, who waved to everyone. 

“Hi!” He said happily, giggling when he got tickled. Everyone who spotted him waved back and gushed over the mini Bruce. He ate it up. Once in Bruce's office, you relaxed slightly 

Maryanne squealed when she saw you. “This is perfect!” She beamed. "I'm pregnant, too!"

You widened your eyes. “Oh my gosh!” You hugged her, feeling bad instantly that you hadn’t been honest with her. “How far along?” You asked. 

"About two months! You?" She was beyond excited for this.

“Four.” You said shyly. “I’m sorry I haven’t told you.” You told her. "No one knows."

She smiled. “I understand.” She kissed your forehead. “It was soon after Beckett.” She moved to say hi to the toddler. "You're going to be the best big brother."

Beckett clapped and reached for her. “Hi.” He hugged her once she had him. 

“Hi, baby.” She smiled. “I missed you, too. Now that the secrets are out we can be pregnant buddies!” She told you. "Help each other out when they're born." She noted. 

“That honestly sounds amazing.” You said honestly. “Who...were you dating anyone at the time?"

She shook her head. "One night stand." She shrugged. "It just happened." 

You were surprised she wasn’t more upset at that. “Well, I’m here for you.” You smiled. "I still have all Beckett's newborn things, so you're more than welcome to have them if you have a boy."

“Thank you.” She smiled. “Still want me by your side for this one?” She put a hand on your bump. "I think it's a girl." 

"Of course. You're my best friend." You smiled. “And you do?” 

She nodded. "Yes!" she chuckled as Beckett leaned his head on her shoulder and babbled.

���I am carrying this one different.” You nodded. 

Bruce watched you both from his desk and smiled that you seemed to relax more. “Shall we tell our parents soon?” He asked you.

You nodded. “We should. Especially since Noah has been wanting to visit again.” 

“I’ll help make a surprise party?” Maryanne offered. “Get some cute decorations, some nice food.”  

“You’re so sweet.” You hugged her side. “I want to help you the way you helped me with Beckett. You plan a surprise party and I do your baby shower?” You smiled. “Please?” You really loved her friendship, and she was more like a sister than your actual sister was. 

“I can’t say no to that.” She smiled and hugged you back. “I was worried about doing this alone but I know I have your support.” 

“And Bruce’s. He loves kids.” You pointed to your husband. “Right?” 

Bruce smiled. “Of course. Anything you need, you know that.” He told Maryanne. “Y/N has been worried about two under two, so when we’re at my parent’s house, I’ll get you set up there, too. Once the baby is born. Then you can help each other, and Alfred and the staff can help.” He explained. 

“Oh Bruce, that’s too much.” Maryanne shook her head. 

“Nonsense. You’re family.” You told her. “We’ll love your baby as family, too. Our first niece or nephew.” You smiled. “Seeing as my brother is way too young.” You chuckled. 

Maryanne grew a bit teary eyed. “You two are so nice. I don’t deserve you as friends.” She said softly. 

“Sir, the food you ordered is here.” Came Tiffany’s voice. “Oh, Y/N! You’re glowing!” She grinned. 

“He ordered from my favorite pizza place.” You laughed, taking Beckett to set him up in his stroller to eat the food you brought him. “And thank you, Tiffany.” 

“It’s Mrs. Wayne, Tiff.” Bruce told her gently. 

You rolled your eyes. “It’s Y/N.” You chuckled. “I don’t mind.” 

Tiffany smiled thankfully. “Nice to see you. Congratulations.” She ducked out. 

Once Beckett was set up, you sat in the chair across from Bruce. “Maybe this weekend we can send a car for my parents?” You asked, taking a bite of your pizza. “Mm…” You groaned. “So good.” 

Bruce smirked. “I knew you’d love it. And that sounds good to me.” He nodded. "Do they have to work?"

“I think if I tell them ahead of time they can plan, but I don’t want to ruin the surprise.” You hummed. 

“Maybe ask them if they can watch Beckett for the weekend?” Maryanne suggested. "Say you want some time as a couple?"

You and Bruce nodded. “That could work.” You said. "And I know they'd both love to see him again. He's grown a lot in the past couple months. He was barely walking for his birthday.” 

Beckett clapped as everyone looked at him. “Hi, Daddy!” He giggled. “Hi, Mama!” He beamed, smashing some food into his mouth. “Hi, Mawee” 

Maryanne melted. “He’s precious.” She gushed. 

You chuckled. "Yesterday he dumped his yogurt on Lucky. That was far less precious."

“The poor dog.” Bruce laughed. "Happy tried to clean him. He was not appreciating that."

“I have a video.” You dug your phone out and handed it to Maryanne. 

She laughed at the video, shaking her head. “Oh, Beckett.” She grinned at him. “You are your daddy’s son.” She laughed, handing it back.

“I do make messes.” Bruce chuckled. “But, thankfully, not like that.”

You snorted at that and shook your head, continuing to eat happily. You had to admit, getting out of the house was helping so much. You were sure people were talking but for now that was okay. You weren't alone, and this baby was already loved. 

You were at your next appointment, the day before you were set to surprise yours and Bruce’s parents. You wanted a fresh set of sonogram pictures. He was watching Beckett, making the grandparents some paintings. He told his father he couldn't come in because you were sick. Which wasn't technically a lie. Your morning sickness wasn’t quite gone yet. 

The technician smiled widely at you as she set things up. “Are we wanting to know the sex today?” 

"You can? I thought I had another month." You asked. 

"They are being very cooperative." She chuckled. "And I've been at this a long time." She shrugged. “I’ll tell you how much confidence I have in my choice.” She said honestly. 

You smiled. "Sounds good!" You smiled, hopeful to surprise Bruce.

She smiled back and began the process. “So far so good. Your little one is growing at the right pace.” She said as she moved the wand around. “There’s their hand.” She smiled. “They’re waving at mama.” She pointed, taking pictures. "And I am very confident in saying… You're having a girl."

You teared up instantly. “Oh, thank you.” You touched the screen. “Hi, baby girl.” You started to feel a tiny bit of your fear ease up. 

The tech beamed and began choosing pictures to be printed. “Here you are.” She handed them to you once you were cleaned up. “Have a good day.” 

“Thank you.” You smiled, making your way out of the building. You took a picture of her hand and sent it to Bruce. Say hi to our little princess! 

Bruce instantly FaceTimed you. “Our baby is a princess?!” He said, beaming. “Really?!” 

You nodded. “She is! The tech has been doing this a long time she said, and our little one was cooperating. So, tada!” You giggled. 

He smiled widely. “I love you both so much. This is perfect!” He looked like he was about to start dancing. “I can’t wait to meet her.” 

“Well, you still have about five months, babe.” You giggled. “We can wait.” You teased him. “She does need her room finished, and clothes.”

“Mama!” Beckett ran into his father to say hi. “Hi!” He waved when you were in his sights.

“Hi, baby.” You giggled.  “Mommy’s on her way home.” You told him. “You being good for Daddy?”

He nodded and gave you a toothy grin. Bruce lifted him so he was sitting on his lap. “Maybe tonight we go out and get him a big brother shirt?” 

“That sounds great.” You nodded. “I’d love that.” You smiled. “I’ll be home soon. I love you.”

“We love you, too.” He blew a kiss, making Beckett copy him. It was one of the cutest things you had ever seen. 

The morning of the announcement, you were worried. Your father had come around for Beckett, and adored him. Would he be angry over this baby like he was for him? You tugged at your hair at the thought. You figured everyone else would be thrilled. Sitting on the side of your bed, you did your best to keep from crying.

Maryanne peeked in. “I found a perfect dress.” She had been digging through your closet. “Hey, what’s wrong?” She asked, moving to sit by your side.

“Just worried.” You sighed. “My dad wasn’t happy when we announced Beckett. What if he’s pissed all over?” You shook your head. “I’m afraid it’ll lead to another fight.”

“You’ve done so well with Beckett. He should take that into consideration.” She rubbed your back. 

You shook your head. “It’s less me, and more...it’s more Bruce…” You groaned. “He doesn’t think he’s able to care for his family. That work comes first.” You shook your head. “Said some mean stuff.”

She frowned. “That’s not fair of him. I hope he isn’t like that with this one.” She gave you a hug. “Bruce is an amazing dad! He is with Beckett, and will be with this one, too.” 

“I’m just scared of that judgemental look.” You ran your hand through your hair. “The disappointment. My sister is the shitty kid, and I get that look.”

“I think we should stay positive and hope he is understanding and excited.” She told you with a smile. “He’s got another grandbaby on the way!”

You nodded. “Thank you.” You squeezed her hand. “Means a lot.” You told her. “Now, let’s see that dress.”

She grinned and went to get it, bringing it in. “Surprise! I actually helped Bruce order a new one.” She was beaming. “You’ll look amazing.”

You touched a hand to your chest. “You’re literally the sweetest.” You sniffed. “Help me get ready?”

Bruce answered the door, Beckett in his arms when your parents rang the doorbell. “Welcome.” He beamed. 

“Hi!” Beckett classically welcomed them. 

“Oh, my baby.” Your mother smiled at Beckett. “You’re so big!” She reached out for him. 

Bruce stepped back. “Go see Grandma.” He set Beckett down, watching him waddle to her. 

“Ah!” Beckett smiled, reaching up for her once he got to her feet. 

“Oh!” She scooped him up. “You’re walking!” She kissed his cheek. “I’m so proud of you!” 

Bruce smiled and shook your dad's hand. “I’ll get you guys a drink.” He shut the door once Noah was in. “Hey, little dude, want a soda?”

“Yes, please!” He smiled. 

Beckett squealed when he saw your brother and reached for him. “Although, don’t let him have any.” Bruce chuckled.

Noah smiled and took the toddler. “I won’t.” He promised. “Hi.” He let Beckett smoosh his cheeks. 

“Looks like there’s a bit of a party set up?” Your mother noted.

“Oh, yeah. We just wanted to make it welcoming for you. Have a seat.” Bruce winked as he handed your parents drinks and set one down for Noah. “I’m gonna go see if she’s ready.”

Your mother looked around. “How sweet.” 

Maryanne came out after a moment and greeted everyone. As she was chatting with your mother, the doorbell rang again, and Bruce went to let his parents in. “Oh! What a surprise.” Your father said as the Wayne’s walked in. “What’s the occasion?”

“We were told a family lunch.” Thomas smiled. “And we were asked to watch Beckett so they could do dinner.” He added. 

Bruce led you out, trying to calm your nerves. You smoothed your dress out and walked out once everyone was seated. “Thank you all for coming.” You smiled. “Clearly me and Bruce wanted to surprise you all.” You let your arms fall to your sides. You were chewing on your lip at you looked anywhere but at your father. “I’m four months pregnant...with a little girl.” 

Thomas clapped once. “Oh, wonderful!” He smiled. 

Martha grinned. “You’re glowing, dear!” She stood with your mother who teared up happily. Both women hugged you close. “I’m so happy for you!” Martha kissed your cheek.

“Same here, honey.” Your mother kissed your head. “I’m so happy we’re going to have a granddaughter.” She looked to your father. “Aren’t we?”

“Yes, of course.” He stood and came over to give you a hug. “You look beautiful.” He said softly. You instantly hugged him back, thankful that he wasn’t lecturing you again. He kissed your head before going to sit back down, smiling as he focused on Beckett. “You excited, buddy?” He asked. 

You looked at your mom. “He’s upset. Again.” 

“No, why would you say that?” She squeezed your hand. 

“Mom, I can tell.” You shook your head. “This is why I put off saying anything.” You looked down. 

“He just worries. He’s happy. Look how much he loves Beckett.” She smiled. “I promise you that your father is not upset.” She hugged you. “Now, have you been talking names?”

“A little bit.” You shrugged. 

Bruce huffed to himself and tapped your father's shoulder. “Can we talk?” He asked, motioning to the back. “Happy, Lucky, come on, boys.” They barked and followed Bruce happily. Your father followed, wondering what was going on. Bruce put his hands on his hips once the door was closed. “Do you have a problem with me?” He asked bluntly.

“Yes.” Your father replied just as blunt. “I do.” He crossed his arms over his chest. “She defended you, but everything I said would happen is.”

“What? How could you say that? I spent an entire year at home.” He frowned. 

“You nearly missed her having Beckett because of work.” He started. “You think she’ll be able to do anything besides stay home now that she’ll have two under two?!” He shouted. “Where’s her dreams? Gone. All gone!” He glared at Bruce. “All down the damn drain because of some rich punk.” He pointed at him. 

Bruce stood his ground. “She’s free to work when she wants. I gave her the option of nannies and living at my parents.” 

Your father laughed. “What? A nanny? I wish she had listened to me when I told her.” He ran a hand over his face. “Running back to mommy and daddy. Wow.” He shook his head. “And even is she going to work, Bruce? When she’s changing Beckett and nursing the baby? Or maybe when Beckett is in school and you’re screwing your secretary.” 

“That’s enough!” He shouted back. “You have zero right to say those things!” 

Your father shook his head. “I’m only here for my daughter and grandkid.” He said honestly. “Because those are the people you’re going to hurt.”

[thefifthsister-notactive]

Got You

Happy birthday Castle!

It was quiet. Too quiet. 

No wife. No kids. That wasn’t what he’d expected when he woke up this morning. Had expected his usual birthday kisses from Kate, maybe coffee in bed. The kids climbing in with him and planning their day.

He got up to use the bathroom and when he walked back into the room he was still alone. Where were they? Kate liked to try to give him a lie in but she always kissed him good morning on his birthday.

He walked through his office. No one. Into the lounge. No one in there and no one in the kitchen either.

Odd.

Maybe Kate was waking the kids. Which was unlikely with the boys. He walked towards the stairs. “Kate, honey, you need a hand?” He called up to her.

“Surprise!” Kate and Lily shouted, jumping up from behind the kitchen island and scaring the life out of him. Balloons ascended and his girls were grinning at him. The twins burst out the laundry room with their big sister in town and attacked him with balloons, laughing at the chaos that was unleashed.

“Happy burfday Daddy!” “Happy birthday Daddy!” “Happy birthday babe!” “Happy birthday Dad!”

“We gots you,” Lily cheered. “April Fools.”

Castle shook his head in amusement, sinking to his knees to hug his kids, ticking them all in retaliation for the surprise.

“Did your Mom teach you about April Fools?” he asked them, watching his wife grinning with mischief. 

“Go wait in bed for your Dad,” Kate tells them all. “We had our fun, now Daddy gets his lie in.” He watched them running through the Loft, the twins arguing over who was gonna get their first and Lily calling dibs on Mommy’s side.

He shook his head, turning to Kate and wrapping her in his arms.

“Happy birthday,” Kate tells him, pulling him in for a kiss. “Sorry babe but they’re old enough to team up with me. I couldn’t resist.”

“Watch your back,” Castle warns. “They are easily swayed by the promise of candy and getting one over on their mother.”

Kate smirks. “Oh babe. You think that’s all I have in store for you today?”

The smug look falls from his face, knowing the evil genius Kate Beckett can put into pranking. He looks around at the kids, at Alexis and back at his wife. 

“Happy birthday babe. I love you. Three kisses down. Many more to come.” She promised, hinting to him that they’d be alone later on. 

Alexis curled into his side, a cup of coffee appearing for him and he squeezed her. “I will remember this, first born.” He tells her. 

“Face it Dad,” Alexis grins. “You were doomed to be outnumbered the moment you met Kate. Now we’re just enjoying it.”

He heard Kate laugh from the kitchen where she was getting things out to make breakfast.

[april-is]

April 29, 2023: June, Alex Dimitrov

June Alex Dimitrov

There will never be more of summer than there is now. Walking alone through Union Square I am carrying flowers and the first rosé to a party where I’m expected. It’s Sunday and the trains run on time but today death feels so far, it’s impossible to go underground. I would like to say something to everyone I see (an entire city) but I’m unsure what it is yet. Each time I leave my apartment there’s at least one person crying, reading, or shouting after a stranger anywhere along my commute. It’s possible to be happy alone, I say out loud and to no one so it’s obvious, and now here in the middle of this poem. Rarely have I felt more charmed than on Ninth Street, watching a woman stop in the middle of the sidewalk to pull up her hair like it’s an emergency—and it is. People do know they’re alive. They hardly know what to do with themselves. I almost want to invite her with me but I’ve passed and yes it’d be crazy like trying to be a poet, trying to be anyone here. How do you continue to love New York, my friend who left for California asks me. It’s awful in the summer and winter, and spring and fall last maybe two weeks. This is true. It’s all true, of course, like my preference for difficult men which I had until recently because at last, for one summer the only difficulty I’m willing to imagine is walking through this first humid day with my hands full, not at all peaceful but entirely possible and real.

--

(June is my birthday month and also the best month. Sorry, I don’t make the rules.)

More like this:   » Steps, Frank O'Hara   » After Work, Richard Jones   » Dolores Park, Keetje Kuipers   » Awaking in New York, Maya Angelou   » A Step Away From Them, Frank O'Hara

Today in: 

2022: Poem to My Child, If Ever You Shall Be, Ross Gay 2021: Choi Jeong Min, Franny Choi 2020: Earl, Louis Jenkins 2019: Kul, Fatimah Asghar 2018: My Life Was the Size of My Life, Jane Hirshfield 2017: I Would Ask You To Reconsider The Idea That Things Are As Bad As They’ve Ever Been, Hanif Abdurraqib 2016: Tired, Langston Hughes 2015: Democracy, Langston Hughes 2014: Postscript, Seamus Heaney 2013: The Ghost of Frank O’Hara, John Yohe 2012: All Objects Reveal Something About the Body, Catie Rosemurgy 2011: Prayer, Marie Howe 2010: The Talker, Chelsea Rathburn 2009: There Are Many Theories About What Happened, John Gallagher 2008: bon bon il est un pays, Samuel Beckett 2007: Root root root for the home team, Bob Hicok 2006: Fever 103°, Sylvia Plath 2005: King Lear Considers What He’s Wrought, Melissa Kirsch

[silverhallow]

Strangers All At Once: Burning

Strangers All At Once Masterpost

Prev | Next

Pairing: Sophie Beckett x Benedict Bridgerton

Summary: Sophie's lying to herself and everyone around... and how does Benedict really feel? Can they sort out this mess or will someone have to meddle?

Can't even begin to explain This all too well familiar pain That comes, and it goes, but it gets in my bones all the same, mmm Well, maybe I'm a fool for falling in love with you When I had nothing left to lose And nothing more I could give, went down with your sinking ship Now I don't think I'll make it through, through Now it's only the beat of my heart That reminds me not to stare at the sparks Can't set fire to my soul Just to keep ya, keep ya, keep ya from burning alone

How Sophie made it home she’d never know. She’d cried all the way home, she was sure of it.

How could she have been so stupid? She’d felt like she’d had nothing left to lose, felt like there was nothing left in her heart and soul to break but she’d been wrong.

She’d somehow, in the space of four weeks, fallen back in love with Benedict, or perhaps she’d never fallen out of love and her head finally gave in to remember what her heart had always felt…

She felt like a fool for falling in love with him.

He was a Bridgerton. A fucking bridgerton and she was a nobody. She was an orphan. She was a bastard. Her parents had never been married. A man like Benedict Bridgerton would never love someone like her… Araminta had told her that and she’d refused to believe it and she’d let herself hope. Convinced herself that he did love her but then she’d heard him say what he’d said…

And she’d left, heartbroken and wrecked… thinking that nothing would hurt as much ever again…

But then this time… standing there and hearing him saying the same things… how it had clearly meant nothing… 

It broke her all over again and what was worse to her was that Violet had seen and heard…

Sophie wondered if she’d even be able to make it through the wedding…

But as she lay in her bed that evening she realised that even after the wedding… if she wanted to be in Kate’s life… Benedict was always going to be there…

Christenings for any of Kate’s kids, family gatherings for Kate’s birthday… he was going to be Uncle to those kids, he was going to be Kate’s brother in law. She’d never escape him.

He was going to be there, the memories would always resurface every time she saw him and she knew in her heart that no matter what… she was never getting over him.

The following morning she made her way to the cafe, michael and phillip had arrived early to help her set up and with the bread orders for the day and had asked her about how dinner had gone, Michael saw the pain in her face, the gaunt look behind her eyes and he knew something had gone wrong.

Sophie just shook her head “it’s fine. Just… if a Bridgerton comes in today… i am not here” she said and disappeared into the back and refused to talk about it.

The pain she felt was all too familiar, it was a pain she’d thought she’d left behind. She didn’t even know how to explain it to them, they would never understand. But it was a pain that went down to her bones.

It was too much and she knew she’d have some decisions to make about if she was to even stay here or if she should leave England forever.

~*~

Benedict had hated lying to his family, he rarely lied to them but when it came to Sophie he had to play his cards close to his chest.

Dinner had been amazing, they’d joked about, they’d flirted a little and he’d even held her hand for a moment when Simon had made a comment about how nice it was to have everyone together again and they had almost kissed again in the kitchen, he’d leaned over her to get the wine glasses from the top shelf and he’d nearly dropped one on her head and he’d rubbed her cheek with his hand and when he’d gone to move it away, she’d placed her hand on his and they’d leaned in, closer and closer and then the door flew open and Kate had come in…

Sophie had froze and fled and Benedict had been lost in his own world as Sophie had gone to help his mother clear the cakes away and that was when his siblings had started. He knew it was from a place of care and love and Kate had backed him up but when he snapped at Colin “It doesn’t matter what it looks like. It was 3 months two years ago. It meant nothing. If she means nothing to me she should mean nothing to you! She’s Kate’s friend, so we have no choice but to be nice to her” he’d known it was a lie. It was said in a panic and was the only thing he could think of to get his siblings off his back. 

It was a lie, every word but his siblings didn’t know what it was like. To love someone who just… left you high and dry without even giving you a proper reason. He just wanted them off his back.

He wasn’t over it. He was never going to be over it. He loved her. He was always going to love her. It had been everything to him and she meant everything to him now. He’d just hoped that maybe… just maybe that she felt the same way. 

But after his outbreak and Kate’s scowl and threat of pain of death if they did anything to scare off her best friend and maid of honour… they’d backed down, just as his mother returned, a rather serious look on her face as she’d said Sophie’d had to leave for an emergency at the cafe and he felt disappointed that she’d left without saying goodbye.

What confused him even more was his mother asking Kate if she could have a private word with her.

Benedict had tried to message Sophie to ask if everything was okay but the reply didn’t come through until the following afternoon saying everything was okay and it was just a faulty oven.

He’d asked her if she wanted to meet up and discuss plans for the wedding but she said she had too much to do over the next few weeks… but they could text and it had upset him and he wondered if something had happened.

He’d tried to visit her a few days later but Phillip had just said she wasn’t there and she was busy… even when Fran, El and Colin had all tried to go to the cafe, none of them had been able to see her or allowed to see her, though Eloise was sure she’d seen the blonde curls duck behind the counter and disappear out the back before she’d entered the cafe and the entire thing just confused Benedict even more.

He felt like Sophie was avoiding him and when he’d asked her as much she’d replied saying she wasn’t but she was just busy as Kate’s wedding cake wasn’t the only one she was doing…

He felt forlorn and shattered and like she was pushing him away all over again and to top it all off, his mother and Kate were both being off with him and he had no idea why but he knew he had other things to worry about at the moment… tomorrow night was the hen and stag do and though they were going out separately they were all supposed to meet up and he was hoping, he was planning to try and talk to Sophie then, she was a friendly and flirty drunk and he had a bit of a plan… he just hoped that he’d be able to pull it off.

~*~

Sophie felt pleased with herself, she’d avoided anyone with a connection to any of the Bridgerton’s for a week.

She still had no idea if she was going to leave or stay once the wedding was over but she knew she wasn’t going to be able to avoid them forever.

She’d gone through the last five weeks in her mind, the way they’d grown closer again, laughing and joking over Anthony getting stressed about flowers and napkins for the tables. Talking about Benedict’s best man’s speech and they’d even talked about how they’d been instrumental in Kate and Anthony getting together once they realised they knew one another.

They had skirted around the subject of them, their past but they’d come close but never as close as they had in the Aubrey Hall garage.

They’d even nearly kissed twice. The first time had been an almost magical moment, Sophie had been showing him her designs for the wedding cake, it had been based on one of Benedict’s sketches, a drawing of Aubrey Hall and the pall mall game that had ultimately gotten Kate and Anthony together, it had been a magical day and both of them had been lost in the memory. It had been the first time Sophie had really met his family, they’d distracted one another during the game and they’d ended up in the tree house and spent the night below the stars, making love and whispering sweet nothings to one another…

Both of them had been lost in the memory, drawing closer and closer together and then Michael had burst into the office…

And then the second time had been the night he broke her heart again, in the kitchen where she’d been so close to telling him that she loved him, where she’d gushed to Violet that she had fallen in love with Benedict only two days before she’d left, before he’d broken her heart the very next day.

She’d hoped she’d be able to avoid any connection to the Bridgerton’s until the night of the hen and stag do’s but she had to know the Gods were not on her side.

She was sat in the office late the night before the Hen do, doing paperwork and balancing her books and she’d assumed that Michael who had been on the late shift had already left when her door flew open and when she looked up, expecting to see Michael in there with his usual smirk saying he was done and telling her he was off on a date as was the norm on a friday night but instead was greeted by the face of her best friend.

“Kate? What the hell are you doing here?” Sophie asked, confusion on her face.

“Well you’ve basically barred any Bridgerton seeing you all week and i know there wasn’t an emergency here last week when you left, though why Violet covered for you i’ll never know… but honestly Soph, i’m a bit worried about you and i wanted to make sure you’re okay” Kate replied

“I am fine, just busy getting all this done and ordering all the things for your wedding food and cake” Sophie said evasively.

“I get that, but that doesn’t explain why you’ve had the chuckle brothers saying you’ve not been here all week… at least to anyone who is a Bridgerton. Mary saw you in here yesterday” Kate replied

Sophie sighed “it’s complicated Kate, it’s just… been a bit harder than i thought seeing Benedict and all the Bridgerton’s again and I just… needed a bit of space”

This was close to the truth. 

“I don’t get how it’s that complicated, I saw you guys, if i’d been a few seconds later I’m sure i’d have walked in on you snogging Ben’s face off…” Kate replied

Sophie sighed “it just is” she replied, avoiding mentioning that almost kiss.

“Soph, what the hell happened between the two of you… i’ve known you for years and you’d never been happier than you had been with Benedict…then you just… upped and left! I know you loved him, I heard you talking to Violet… So what the hell happened?!” Kate demanded, her arms crossed

“Nothing happened. It just… wasn’t working. It doesn’t matter if it is in the past. It meant nothing to him, it meant nothing…” Sophie swallowed, fighting back the tears “it meant nothing” she repeated, hoping that if she kept repeating it that it wouldn’t hurt anymore and that she herself would start to believe it.

“Bull shit” Kate called “Sophie, if it meant nothing you’d have not fled to France”

“I’d been planning to go before I met Benedict, I just postponed it. It was always in my plans to go…” Sophie said

“And you didn’t tell me?”

“I tried but whenever I tried to bring it up before Benedict you were just complaining about Anthony, even when you got together and I tried to mention it before we left Aubrey Hall, I tried to tell you… i tried to tell you what was going on, but…” Sophie said

“But I was too wrapped up…?” Kate said feeling guilty, wondering if Sophie had tried to talk to her about Benedict and what was going on there as well and she’d just been wrapped up in her new relationship, besting Anthony in Pall Mall… and everything in between.

Sophie just shrugged a sad heartbroken look on her face “it is what it is Kate, but honestly, don’t worry, it’s in the past” 

Kate saw the look on her best friend's face and she knew there was more to this than she was letting on. She wanted to bring up that Violet had talked to her, that she knew Sophie had overheard Benedict’s tirade to his siblings but she had no idea how Benedict felt and she knew if she pushed Sophie into saying something to Benedict, about how she felt and he didn’t feel the same, though she was sure he did, it would shatter her best friend and she’d never see her again.

But she had to find out what had happened between her and Benedict in the first place, Violet had told her of her assumptions and theory and she knew she had to get Sophie to open up. To tell her everything…

There was one thing in this world that would get Sophie talking, to get her to tell her what was going on, something she’d learned at University and how she found out about this shit Araminta put her through… 

And that thing was tequila…

[sunnysynthsunshine]

Rik birthday writing piece

Once in every lifetime, comes a love like this…..

18 years ago was when I first heard your voice, it was so exaggerative, so animated

I’d then catch you in other places, but it was a voice then, I didn’t have a face to put it with

Several years had passed, and somehow I started watching your old comedy shows and acts

Little did I know, that it lit the spark, which then illuminated the rest of my life 

At the time I was a spotty whingy awkward fella who went on about socialism without knowing the lark associated with it, I was unsure of how to talk to others, my mindset made it difficult

yet when you entered my life, you rewired my mind like a television set, the type gobbled up by that rowdy trihawk punk with the stars on his head

Watching some of your projective characters made me re-examine how I felt about myself, it was like I was looking in a mirror 

When I saw Rick, I saw how miscommunicative I was being, 

When I saw Richie, I saw how pretentious and overreactive I could be, 

When I saw Alan, I thought about the people running the world, being from a neighbourhood where we didn’t know about the underbelly of austerity, it made me realize how emotionally manipulative and selfish the tories can be.

However, I also saw the characters charm, their joy and passion, 

Rick’s love for 80s pop music and poetry made me more curious about those interests

Richie’s occasional mayallwife role made me embrace the campy queer I am 

I started to recover, I became more expressive about who I was and the interests I had, 

I wasn’t afraid anymore (like Lizzie when she faces her past), I improved my social skills and recognized the sources I was getting info from, the links to the punk movement got me down to anarchism route

One of my interests was….you and your comedy work, well it started as an interest, but then I started dressing like you and using one of your character names as a nickname, it made me feel more confident about myself and my gender.

I’d write introspective poems, I learned to write some comedy myself and eventually did my first drag gig, I met a lot more friends because of you, friends who I’ll treasure forever, and I’ll never forget who got me there, while the changes were my own choice, you were one of the signals I had to adjust my headspace

It felt like….someone understood me,  while we are separated from land, decades and spiritual energy when I read about you, I can sense the pure chaos and soothing aura you’d collectively share, wherever you went 

On stage, on screen, in books or magazines, 

random advertisements or video game announcements

You radicalized me into the snarky comedic anarchic lad I am today 

In the words of Karen Carpenter, today is the day, the angels got together and sprinkled moondust in your hair, you could appear devilish with a gurning smirk flicking a rude hand gesture or heavenly as your long hair flows in the wind, while you smile at the photographer, looking like a raphaelite painting 

You and the comic strip guys sure kicked up a fuss, 

you told people what was up

To stand up to the establishment and feel free

A theatrical comedy revolution is what you started

Beckett cocktails and poncy cigarette drags

A pretty boy rattish man who could yelp more sound effects than a  television sound box

But beyond the stabby badge pins, dated haircuts and frying pan slams

There was a heart, you are very compassionate and caring 

Even when the ticker stopped clicking, the energy I can sense is still loving

Happy Birthday you old bastard, now 65

Stage lights are off but your soul is alive

When we laugh at your jokes or gasp at your performances

Giving an offering when I play Little Richard on the playlist

even in your silver fox times, 

your joy feels so young at heart, 

as your silly ramblings and stunts stay in our minds 

The wild commentary and ruckus never got stale 

Here’s a toast, to “The” doctor rik mayall 

[hopepaigeturner]

☂️Umbrella Academy AU ☂️: Meet No.3

Part 1, 2.

Today is our silver girl Sophie Beckett!

*~*~*~*~*~*

“Not too surprising that Barbenheimer took home a swathe of awards as its box office numbers rise to unprecedented heights…”

The old-school radio blared across a kitchen filled with mismatched crockery and an oven that looked as industrious as a steam engine.

“You should have been there, you know,” Lucy commented dipping a finger in the batter, her converses tapping against the wooden cupboards. Sophie shook her head, in tandem with her skin shifting another tint towards brown.

“That would be my worst nightmare—and wash your hands.”

Lucy pouted at Sophie, but Sophie raised an amused, brown eyebrow.

“Hey, it’s the rules of the kitchen.”

“Still, you should get an award. You did all the stunts.”

Sophie sighed, tucking a strand of hair that was slowly becoming frizzy—and not due to the heat of the oven.

Encompassing shapeshifting and a plethora of fighting skills meant Sophie practically swanned into every movie that Danbury fixed for her. And truly, she should be thankful that Penelope gave her a job where being forced to put on a mask was a job requirement, not a chore. And she knew the rest of her adopted family supported it, not only to profit from the stories of diva celebrities she witnessed—but also that it got her out of the house. It was a job that forced her into the real world after an entire lifetime of Sophie ensconcing herself within the fantasy worlds found in her mind or on paper.

Ofcourse she never told them that every day she would collapse in her trailer with an empty heart and a roiling stomach, listening to the chatter of her co-stars on their way to a bar. Or how still, every night, she would sit in front of a mirror and try and construct her features to resemble those found in the picture of her parents. Or sit in front of the same mirror and beg for the weight on her body to lift—even if only for her birthday.

Sophie fiddled with the bracelets—one for every month she had been stable. Or as stable as one could be when popping anti-depressants.

“Humility is a virtue Lou Lou, one I do not mind indulging in. And how could I miss today of all days?” she gave her best smile. A smile that would subtly change throughout the day but always managed to appease her sibling’s worries.

She put the batter in the oven and sent a prayer that it would not burn, and another to beg for her current buoyant mood to stay until she could see people enjoy that cake.  

“I know…I just…I’m not like you or the others. I need to live vicariously through your extraordinary lives since I’m never going to do anything as exciting.”

 Sophie looked over and noted Lucy dejectedly scraping the bowl with a teaspoon.

“Lucy. Think about all the extraordinary people in this world…all of them started off like you.”

“Sophie. Even for you that’s sappy.”

Sophie nudged her.

“Did you know JK Rowling didn’t publish Harry Potter until she was 30? Never went to university?”

“No…I didn’t.”

“Did you know Taylor Swift once was a girl in her room with a guitar? And now she’s an artist who paints pictures with words.”

“Yeah, but she had a talent.”

“So do you. Or is that instrument case empty,” Sophie teased, pointing to Lucy’s embroidered violin case. Lucy rolled her eyes, but Sophie pulled her up. “And more importantly Lucy. Is that in here,” Sophie put her hand on Lucy’s heart, “is a heart of gold, of kindness and brilliance. Someone I can trust. Don’t ever count yourself out.”

“I’ll try not to.”

Sophie wiggled their noses as they did when Sophie used to tuck a little Lucy into bed.

“That’s all we ever want. And if you want…you could always do some training with me. I could teach you. Most of my usefulness is from my right kick rather than this,” she pointed at the nose that had elongated during their conversation. Lucy snorted with a grin.

“See, there’s the brilliant smile. Now, we better clean up—”

The strumming of a guitar tinned through the radio making Sophie grin.  Lucy gasped.

“You so planned that!”

Sophie winked and picked up a wooden spoon.

“There I was again tonight, forcing laughter and faking smiles, same old tired, lonely place…”

She held the wooden spoon out to Lucy who rolled her eyes but joined in,

“Walls of insincerity, shifting eyes and vacancy, vanished when I saw your face…”

Sophie took it back as her smile matched Lucy’s,

“All I can say it was, enchanting to meet you…”

And as she danced around the kitchen with her sister, the weight was almost as light as a shadow. And for those precious moments she could feel the ghost of her younger self—or perhaps another self in a silver dress. That joy that now felt like a dream.

Although ofcourse, she had never dreamed. Everyone knew that...

[kendaley]

Slow to burn

Prologue:New Beginnings

Blah blah blah this is the story of how I die and all that… 

Let me preface this with saying I am not the one. I am no savior. I am not a part of some prophecy. Now without further ado let’s get to how this whole shit started. 

*knock knock* 

“You were going to come in anyway you didn’t need to knock Beckett.” 

“You didn’t tell me you were moving, I just came over to drop off your birthday present” 

“ I don’t think you’re here just to drop that off a month late, but whatever you say.” 

“ I also thought maybe you would want a driving partner…” 

“Becks, I don’t know if that’s a good idea. We haven’t talked in months, you are a teacher at a prestigious middle school. I am still searching for… whatever I’m searching for.. You have a life here, even if I wanted to I could not ask you to leave this behind.” I said with indignation, because it’s true I had a crush on him before when he helped me work with the school, his sarcasm is wonderful in a world full of disdain. 

“ Parker… Earth to Parker did you hear anything I just said?” 

“ I uh- what? No I guess not, was in my head sorry, what did you say?’

“ I told you I wanted to leave it behind, it’s cushy yeah. But it is not what I thought I wanted out of life, I really like who I work with, the kids I teach. But, something has always been missing, maybe it’s a little adventure.”

“ Okay, you realize if I'm driving I have control over the music, which means you are going to have to deal with the menagerie of music that I have.” I couldn’t say no to him, his hazel eyes like a tormented sea that draw you in, they twinkle when he smiles. I just know I am getting myself into trouble with this. It could either mean a good friendship dies today or something new begins. 

“Hell yes Park, you mind after we finish you up with packing that we head to my place so I can pack for like a week's worth of travel?”

“No, I would rather you do that then share my clothes with me, I don’t think you’ll fit in anything of mine”

“Har har asshole.”

[chwrpg]

Some of these football dicks make their girlfriends come and watch them practice as if it’s interesting.. – Beckett Guerrero

A NOTE FROM ADMIN B: Oooooh I am LOVING all these fresh faces we’re seeing on the dash lately!! Thank you Ari for bringing us a long awaited member of The Craft!!!

OOC NAME/ALIAS, PREFERRED PRONOUNS, AGE & TIMEZONE: Ari, they/them 28, EST 

DESIRED CHARACTER: Beckett Guerrero  

HOW ACTIVE WILL YOU BE? 7.5 u know how it beee

DESCRIBE THE CHARACTER: 

It feels accurate to say that Beckett knows a lot more about who he isn’t than who he is. Most of his life he’s been focused on re-creating himself into his own perfect vision. As much as he struggled with realizing he was transgender, that struggle doubled in size the day he caught on fire. To feel both not at home in his body and overall ugly has done a type of damage to his psyche that not even therapy could undo. But the attention and desire of someone he also desires has been enough to start to chip away at the thick wall that his insecurity and self-loathing has created. 

For all of their problems, Beckett enjoyed Nadine’s attention deep down. Not only because she was giving him exactly what he wanted but because deep down the three woman who had imposed themselves on his life had shown him that maybe being lonely wasn’t the only way to live. Maybe he could have everything he dreamed of. Maybe there were people who actually wanted to be in his company. But Beckett is never at peace with maybe. 

SAMPLE WRITING:

If Beckett’s parents were home right now they might have thought their child had been body snatched. If only because the sounds from his room had made it sound like he was actually someone who was happy. And he was. Today he was because he would be finally going on a date with Reed. He had planned it all out. Enough balance to be romantic while not being overwhelming. He’d pick up flowers he had already pre-ordered on the way and he had woken up feeling good about himself. Maybe, just maybe the universe was smiling on him this once. 

So he put some music on as he got ready, something more upbeat than his Phoebe Bridgers and Del Water Gap playlist for once. he was even dancing around his room and Beckett couldn’t remember the last time he danced. the last time he had felt hope. That was what Reed made him feel, a hope that he could be a boy experiencing love just like every other normal person. Which was a revelation all on it’s own since Beckett had never considered himself someone who wanted to be normal. But his endless pursuit of perfection had made that clear. 

But today he wasn’t thinking about that as he put on the outfit he had been going back and forth on all week. He faltered as he picked up a cologne that Nadine had given him for his birthday this year. It was expensive and heavy and of course it was the perfect scent for him. He loved it in an irresistible way and it was just like Nadine to find such a sickeningly perfect present. One that would force him to think about her every time he used it. A few quick sprays and he pushed it away along with the thoughts of her. This night wasn’t about Nadine and if this night went well, there would be no more nights that were about Nadine. 

Of course all of that was wishful thinking as he finally finished up and reached for his keys at the same time as his phone went off with a text from Reed. His stomach dropped as soon as he read it and he was sure he skipped some steps as he rushed down to his car to make sure Reed didn’t get to Nadine’s before him. All he could think of as he drove was of how foolish he was. How foolish he was to ever think that their lives could ever be about something other than Nadine. 

ANYTHING ELSE: 1985

[richardjlockleyhobson]

The inception of it was a murder at the village of Lower Quinton, just outside of Stratford-upon-Avon, in which a tramp was murdered by, I think villagers, and his body dragged along so that the blood could fertilise the crops …​ 

There is no English village that has not played host to at least one significant historical event, and I have it in mind that I have known something of Walton’s murder for quite-some-time, though I really can’t be sure. I have it in mind that the incident is infamous and that everyone knows something of it, but in truth, that really depends on to whom you speak and what circles they move in.

Alternatively, if it were not for prolific playwright and novelist John Bowen, I may well have never heard of Charles Walton, a farm labourer whose mutilated body was found among the hedgerows of Firs Farm, Lower Quinton, on the evening of the 14th of February, 1945.

Over time, the details of Walton’s murder have become other things and as it is, you could be forgiven for thinking that Bowen’s comments were in reference to the circumstances of David Rudkin’s 1962 play Afore Night Come, not Robin Redbreast.

John once told me that Robin Redbreast was partly inspired by (and partly filmed in) Old Lodge Farm, which lies roughly 9 miles north-east of Banbury. John purchased the property sometime during the latter half of 1970 and was resident there until his death, in 2019.

It's sometimes difficult to reconcile the lightness of John’s character with the darkness that can be found in key-works such as Robin Redbreast and A Photograph. That said, Robin Redbreast, to which our attention is drawn, is relatively straightforward in comparison to its malevolent sibling, A Photograph. A Photograph is far from straightforward and the late appearance of Mrs. Vigo (Freda Bamford), last seen standing in front of Old Lodge Farm, seven years earlier, asks more questions than it answers. ...​ 

— John Bowen is quoted in conversation for inclusion as an “extra” on the BFI’s 2013 DVD release of Robin Redbreast.

— Robin Redbreast (TV Drama). Written by John Bowen and directed by James MacTaggart. Produced as part of the British Broadcasting Corporation’s Play for Today anthology series. Originally transmitted on the 10th of December, 1970. Though I understand that, due to a nationwide power-outage, the final minutes of the program were not transmitted and as a consequence, Robin Redbreast was repeated on the 25th of February, 1971.

A theatrical version of Robin Redbreast was staged by the Guildford Theatre Co., 15th of October 1974, at the Yvonne Arnaud Theatre, Guildford.

— A Photograph (TV Drama). Written by John Bowen and directed by John Glenister. Produced as part of the British Broadcasting Corporation’s Play for Today anthology series. Originally transmitted on the 22nd of March, 1977.

— Afore Night Come (Play). Written by David Rudkin and first staged by the Royal Shakespeare Company, 7th of June, 1962, at the New Arts Theatre Club, London. Directed by Clifford Williams.

Revived, as part of the Royal Shakespeare Company’s 1964 season at the Aldwych Theatre, London, Afore Night Come was performed in repertory, along with, amongst others, Pinter’s The Birthday Party, Beckett’s Endgame and Weiss’ The Persecution and Assassination of Jean-Paul Marat as Performed by the Inmates of the Asylum of Charenton Under the Direction of the Marquis de Sade. …​ 

But the author, it soon transpires, is up to something very different: the slice-of-life introduction and the carefully documentary setting are only the bait which leads audiences cheerfully into his trap … The strength of the play lies in two things: the inexorable theatrical logic with which it carries us from its simple realistic opening to the weird, primitive ritual of its climax; and the efficacy of the play on a literal as well as a metaphorical level … Accepting, then, that such things might happen and sometimes do, Afore Night Come builds up a minutely credible picture of how one such case might come about. In this countryside the dark gods still walk (Rudkin’s first favourite adult reading - after Just William and Arthur Ransome - was Hardy, which may have something to do with his view of rural life) and superstitions die hard. Strangers are mistrusted, the weak go to the wall and anything out of the ordinary (barrenness, insanity) is as like as not the fault of something unnatural, someone with the evil eye. — John Russell Taylor, Anger and After, A Guide to the New British Drama, University Paperbacks are published by Methuen & Co., 1971

I have two copies of John Russell Taylor's Anger and After. The aforementioned, revised, with an additional chapter, By Way of Experiment and an earlier edition, inscribed, by the author, to no one in particular, ... A first edition - my goodness, it's practically an historical exhibit - Still, as T. S. Eliot didn't say, as we get older we don't get any younger - John Russell Taylor - October 1970 ...​ 

Somewhere in the archives, I have a copy of John’s play Little Boxes, first published by Methuen & Co. in 1968. The book is dedicated to David Cook, John’s long term partner and inscribed​, ... To Bill and Anna - a wonderful Jane! With love John Bowen.

The “Anna” here of course is Anna Cropper, whose portrayal of Robin Redbreast’s protagonist Nora Palmer, anchors us, when required. Her stoicism in the face of such uncertainty is admirable. The “Bill” here is William Roache, an actor most associated with the character of Ken Barlow in the long-running television drama, Coronation Street. At the time, William and Anna were husband and wife, married in 1961 and divorced in 1974.

Little Boxes consists of two interrelated yet separate plays, The Coffee Lace and Trevor. Making its debut at the Hampstead Theatre Club on the 26th of February 1968, before transferring to the Duchess Theatre, later the same year. Although the characters differ, John’s intention was for the cast of one play to perform the other. In The Coffee Lace Anna plays the role of Miss Peel and in Trevor, Jane Kempton.

It is not usual for those that write for television, film or even theatre, to form associations with particular actors and John was no exception. As well as working with Anna, John’s television plays frequently featured actor John Stride. Stride plays the role of Mark Antony in Heil Caesar! (1973), Michael Otway in A Photograph (1977) and Paul in The Ice House (1978).

We have of course met Nora Palmer before. Prior to the unsettling events of Robin Redbreast, prior to a contemplative glass of brandy with Madge and Jake, Nora, script editor for an independent television company, could be found drinking tea with Peter Ash, host of The Living Arts, a “cultural feature” screened monthly at participating cinemas.

The Birdcage was first published by Faber in 1962 and for the most part, concerns itself with the shifting sexual politics of the time, often informed by John’s own experiences and that of those around him. Three years later, what remains of Nora and Peter’s relationship is given due consideration, in Robin Redbreast’s opening scene. …​ 

The space between, the end of one thing and the beginning of another, time is taken-up. Letters, phone-calls, emails, etc. Fac et aliquid operis, ut semper te diabolus inveniat occupatum (engage in some occupation, so that the devil may always find you busy).

Warwickshire County Records Office. Warwickshire and West-Mercia Police. The Metropolitan Police. Warwickshire County Coroner’s Office. Stratford-upon-Avon Herald. The Shakespeare Birthplace Trust. Methuen, Routledge, Harlequin. I have been ably assisted.

As a consequence of this and other preoccupations, stacks of clear plastic storage boxes take-up space in what would otherwise be a perfectly good second bedroom in my medium-sized apartment. …​ 

Wednesday 25/01/2017. The National Archives. A cold morning’s walk through Chiswick, over Chiswick Bridge and along the Thames Path.

The Public Records Office at Kew was designed by English architect John Cecil Clavering for the Office of Works. Clavering is perhaps better known for his work with the Weedon Partnership, designing a series of Odeon Cinemas at Kingstanding, Sutton Coldfield, Colwyn Bay and finally Scarborough. Opened in 1977 and renamed in 2003, the building is a fine example of what is commonly referred to as Brutalist architecture.

My possessions are transferred to a clear plastic bag, an extremely unflattering photograph is taken and a pass produced, a Reader’s Ticket. By prior-arrangement, an item of interest will find its way to an orange-tinted acrylic locker, one of many, alphanumeric, corresponding to a seat within the Reading Room.

MEPO 3/2290 contains the Central Officer’s Special Report 201/45/30 and other, related documentation. Fragile documents cannot be separated out, without the potential for damage. Documentation is comprehensive. That said, reference is made to photographs, taken at the scene and a map, showing the location of Walton’s body, but these things are conspicuous by their absence.

I move to another part of the room to make copies of Chief Inspector Fabian’s original report, by way of an overhead camera. The National Archives’ document scanning service. The resulting .jpeg files are then uploaded, emailed out and, as I return MEPO 3/2290 to the front desk, an elderly woman has a coughing-fit and is escorted from the room. ...​ 

Thank you for your recent email. The National Archives is the archive of records generated by UK central government departments and selected for preservation under the 1958 Public Records Act (and subsequent amendments). The MEPO 3 series contains correspondence and papers of the Metropolitan Police Commissioner's Office and The National Archives’ document reference MEPO 3/2290 contains the full document as accessioned by us. If any photographs were present in the original file they were not selected for permanent preservation under the act. I note from the file description that the murder took place in Stratford upon Avon. Therefore, this case would have been dealt with by the local constabulary and if there are any further surviving records relating to the case they would be held locally. Therefore I would suggest contacting Warwickshire County Record Office in the first instance for informed advice on what historic records may have been deposited with them and secondly, Warwickshire Police directly. I hope this information is helpful. — Steven Cable, Remote Enquiries Duty Officer, The National Archives

National Archives Disclaimer. This email and any files transmitted with it are intended solely for the use of the individual(s) to whom they are addressed. If you are not the intended recipient and have received this email in error, please notify the sender and delete the email. Opinions, conclusions and other information in this message and attachments that do not relate to the official business of The National Archives are neither given nor endorsed by it.

Thank you for your email, Warwickshire case files that are over 50 years old were kept at our Warwickshire Police HQ. After enquiring with the relevant department, I have been informed that following a flood a few years back, all files were either destroyed or badly damaged and therefore unable to be viewed. Please accept my apologies, we will not be able to provide you the information you require. — Kieren Bodill, Operational Communications Assistant, Corporate Communications, Warwickshire and West Mercia Police …​ 

Sunday 17/12/2017. The civil parish of Quinton, Stratford-on-Avon, Warwickshire, England.

1 h 24 min (66.3 miles) via M5. Fastest route, the usual traffic. Get on M5 in South Gloucestershire from A4018. 8 min (3.4 mi). Follow M5 to A46 in Tewkesbury. Take exit 9 from M5. 37 min (40.5 mi). Continue on A46 to your destination in Lower Quinton. 38 min (22.5 mi). Lower Quinton.

Four Thatches, opposite All Saints and before The Firs, which is curious as, from the street, there would appear to be only Three. Walton and his niece Edith Walton (Goode) having occupied the middle cottage, or second from the left, from Friday Street, if there are to be Four. Further along, The Firs, once the location of Alfred Potter’s farm, now a cul-de-sac of detached houses. Properties were registered in 1988.

Walking back along Main Road from The Firs, turning off onto Goose Lane. Halfway along Goose Lane, Lower Quinton turns to Upper Quinton. Goose Lane, The Green and Hill Lane. Hill Lane gives way to a tree-lined track that takes you up onto farmland, up onto Meon Hill’s northern slopes.

I lose my footing and find myself cast to the ground. To mud, to infrequent patches of snow, my Ilford HP5 Plus single-use camera, which I had fished out of my rucksack at The Firs, flung from my hand. Returning now, with care, I find a crab-apple tree amongst the hedgerows. ...​ 

Fourteenth February 1945 - In a field on Firs Farm, Quinton R.D. - Charles Walton - Male - 74 years - of 15, Lower Quinton, Stratford-on-Avon R.D. - Farm Labourer - Shock and haemorrhage due to grave injuries to the neck and chest caused by a pitchfork and a trouncing hook - The injuries having been inflicted by some person or persons unknown (wilful murder) - Certificate received from G. F. Lodder, Coroner for the County of Warwick, inquest 20th March 1945 - Twenty Second March 1945 - Wallace Ellis, Registrar

The 1939 Register is a useful resource for family, social and local historians. As the 1931 census for England and Wales was destroyed by fire during the Second World War and no census was taken in 1941, the 1939 Register provides the most complete survey of the population of England and Wales between 1921 and 1951.

Charles Walton, 12 May 1870, General Labourer, Widowed, Lower Quinton, Stratford-on-Avon R.D., Warwickshire, England. Edith Goode (Walton), 23 May 1911, Unpaid Domestic Duties, Single, Lower Quinton, Stratford-on-Avon R.D., Warwickshire, England.

Alfred J Potter, 01 Oct 1903, Farmer, The Firs Lower Quinton, Stratford-on-Avon R.D., Warwickshire, England. Lilian E Potter, 01 Jun 1905, Unpaid Domestic Duties, Married, The Firs Lower Quinton, Stratford-on-Avon R.D., Warwickshire, England. Grace M Richards, 21 Sep 1913, Unpaid Domestic Duties, Married, The Firs Lower Quinton, Stratford-on-Avon R.D., Warwickshire, England.

Hillground. Identifying the precise location of Hillground will be more difficult I am afraid, as there is no one reliable source for field names. If there are tithe, estate or enclosure maps for an area then the name might appear on the map or accompanying survey, but even where there are names shown, these can of course change over time. As this area has historically been part of Gloucestershire, we don't have many relevant maps. I have found one for which I include details below, but you may wish to contact Gloucestershire Record Office to see if they hold any relevant records. CR1635/350. Small leather bound volume, 6¾" × 9", containing plans and surveys of the following property on the Weston estate; the surveyor is not named - includes Meon Hill Farm in 1832, with a table of the annual state of cultivation, 1831-1855. — David Hodgkinson, Public Service Team, Warwickshire County Record Office …​ 

Society has long-since organised itself in such a way as to make murder almost impossible to get away with. Between the residue of premeditation and the act itself, few murders go unsolved and the majority of murderers are brought to book, within a reasonable period of time.

The details of Walton’s murder are disturbing, upsetting, and although a thorough investigation was undertaken, Charles’ murderer was never found.

As far as Chief Inspector Robert Fabian of the Metropolitan Police was concerned, the only viable suspect was Alfred J Potter, owner of Firs Farm and Walton’s most recent employer. However, regardless of how much Fabian liked Potter for the murder, insufficient evidence and a lack of motive meant that this particular line-of-enquiry was unlikely to result in a conviction. And even if it had, such a conviction would have been considered unsound. ...​ 

201/45/30. 7th April, 1945. Commander E. R. B. Kemble, R. N., Chief Constable of Warwickshire, County Constabulary, Warwick. Dear Kemble, here is a copy of our report and statements in the case of Charles Walton. I am sorry we have had no luck so far, but you never know, something may well still turn up. I hope you are fit. Do look in and see me next time you come to London. Yours sincerely, R M H

The very thorough enquiries made in this case have, so far, uncovered no evidence on which action can be taken. There is suspicion against the farmer Potter, chiefly because of discrepancies in his statements affecting what he says he saw of the murdered man at a time which must have been shortly before the murder. There are, apparently, no finger impressions on the weapons used. The most positive factor, at present, seems to be the missing watch. It may be that the victim’s trousers were undone by the murderer searching for a money belt. If robbery be the motive, the offender is likely to be a person with local knowledge, although this may not be so. — Superintendent Thomas Basil Thompson, Central Officer’s Special Report 201/45/30, April 1945 …​ 

Somewhere in the archives I have a photograph of Detective Superintendent Alec Spooner, head of Warwickshire’s Criminal Investigation Department. Spooner is pictured revisiting the scene of Walton’s murder and it is said that he did so on several occasions.

In 1949 Robert Fabian retires, having attained the rank of Detective Superintendent. Fabian had garnered some notoriety whilst working with the Metropolitan Police and subsequently, became something of a celebrity. In 1956, Robert appears as a castaway on Roy Plomley’s Desert Island Discs, his luxury item, an umbrella and that same year, he parts-company with Winifred Letitia, his wife of 32 years.

Between 1950 and 1954, Naldrett Press published two books by Fabian, Fabian of the Yard and London After Dark. In 1970, Pelham Books published The Anatomy of Crime and In 1954, Fabian of the Yard was adapted by the British Broadcasting Corporation, their earliest foray into Police Procedural Drama.

Robert was undoubtedly a gifted and intuitive detective and I am sure that it was important for him to have felt that he had given a good account of himself. However, I suspect that the disappointment of never having caught whomever was responsible for Walton’s murder had preyed on his mind. …​ 

Anybody can become a witch. All you have to do is to recite an ancient spell that will conjure up the devil. You then dip a quill pen in blood from your veins and sign an agreement selling him your soul. He gives you a silver coin in token, and leaves with you a cat, a bird and a black dog which will act as your fiendish servant and obey your commands. Such is the ritual of black witchery, and you should be warned that it is an offence under the Witchcraft Act of 1735, which is still unrepealed upon the statute books. When you have become a witch you can put the evil eye on your neighbours, make their cattle die, their crops rot.You do not believe such nonsense, and neither do I, yet in the picturesque Tudor village of Lower Quinton, its thatched roofs golden among the Cotswold hills, they speak of witches with a wry grin and many people will not pass from Bidford down Hillborough-Lane for fear of a headless horseman and a ghostly woman in white. — Robert Fabian, Under the Shadow of Meon Hill, Fabian of the Yard, Naldrett Press, 1954 ...​ 

...​ 

The Murder of PC 222 William Hine on 16th Feb 1886, is the longest outstanding unsolved murder that I have been made aware of, and not the Murder of Charles Walton. Kind Regards. — Kieren Bodill, Operational Communications Assistant, Corporate Communications, Warwickshire and West Mercia Police

I’ve had a look at RAF Cooks’s printed research (a copy of which we hold in our library), and specifically exhibited pages of newspapers; principally the Stratford Herald, 26 February 1886. This tells how the body of PC Hine was found in the Warwick and Napton Canal, near a curve in the canal about a quarter of a mile from the Wharf Inn (coming back from the direction of Banbury). According to the accounts, PC Hine was attacked and possibly/probably murdered in a field leading from a footpath known as The Lanket (Stratford Herald), ‘300 yards from his house near the centre of the village’ (Warwickshire Advertiser, 20 February 1886). In the field (which is called White’s field in Cooks’s narrative, but I didn’t spot it being specifically named in the Herald and their version of the inquest) were found PC Hine’s helmet and handkerchief, and footprints, signs of a struggle and blood. So, his body was found in the canal (also referred to as the Oxford Canal in one account), but the murder likely took place in the above mentioned field, and his body was then dragged on a hurdle to the canal. — Amanda Williams, Archivist, Warwickshire County Record Office

Firstly I looked at the 1939 register for Charles Walton and his neighbours in order to cross reference with the electoral register for that year. Unfortunately the record office does not hold the 1939 electoral register containing the parish of Quinton (presumably held by Gloucestershire Archive Service) and there are no registers for the war years. This being said, I looked at our first available electoral register (1950) and began to look for the names of the neighbours from the 1939 census and many were still in residence. The results of these searches using the 1950 electoral register show that the Stanley Family lived at Elmhurst, which still exists, and is the next property to the Four Thatched Cottages. Working backwards from the Stanley family to Charles Walton, cross referencing the names on the census with the electoral register we have the Hayward family living at No. 17 Lower Quinton; the Beasley family have moved, now in the occupation of the Rose family; No. 15 is not listed; Ellen Bowden and the Stowe family are at No. 14 Lower Quinton (1 Church Street on the census). We then move onto residents of Friday Street with the Nicholls family living at 23/24 Friday Street. This would indicate that Nos. 14-17 were the now Four Thatched Cottages with No. 14 being the end cottage on the corner of Friday Street and Main Street with the house of Charles Walton being the second cottage from the corner. So in conclusion 15 Lower Quinton is one of the cottages on the corner of Friday Street and Main Road. — Karen Moulder, Public Service Team, Warwickshire County Records Office

I have had a look, and Alfred J. Potter, farmer, date of birth 16/10/1903 is listed as living at The Firs, Lower Quinton, Warwickshire, England. I could not identify any similar sounding places in the 1939 Register. This seems to confirm your suspicions - and also seems to indicate that the farm was known as ‘The Firs’, as well as ‘Firs Farm’, from at least 1939. — Becky Hemsley, Public Service Team, Warwickshire County Record Office

Michael Bakewell (BBC) “With me now is the person who knew him most and best, his niece Mrs. Goode. Mrs. Goode, Charles Walton was living with you at the time of the murder” Edith Goode “Yes” Bakewell “Do you think there was any chance that witchcraft played any part in his death at all?” Goode “No. I think erm, the papers made a lot of it, erm, and I lived with him all my life and I’ve never known such things, I think it’s ridiculous really the things that were said” Bakewell “What did you think about the theories in the newspapers?” Goode “What the papers said was very disturbing, because none of it was true” Bakewell “Warwickshire is supposed to be one of the great centres of witchcraft, did you ever meet a witch or know anything about witchcraft?” Goode “No, never. I’ve never heard of it. I never remember them talking about witchcraft until this came along”

Old Man’s Terrible Injuries - Inflicted with Billhook and Pitchfork - Tragic Discovery at Quinton - Warwickshire police are investigating what may prove to be a murder of a particularly brutal character. On Wednesday night, following a search, the body of a 74-year-old farm labourer, Mr. Charles Walton, of Lower Quinton, was found with terrible injuries in a field on Meon Hill, where he had been engaged in hedge-laying. A trouncing hook and a two-tined pitchfork are said to have been embedded in his body. Mr. Walton, who lived with his niece, was a frail old man. He suffered considerably from rheumatism and walked with the aid of two sticks … Mr. Walton spent his whole life in Quinton, and was known to everyone. The tragedy has shocked the locality. A neighbour told the Herald that he was a quiet, inoffensive old man, one of the best you would meet in a day’s march, and he was not likely to have had any enemies in the village. He always had a cheery word for everyone, she said. It seems impossible to impute any motive for murder. Miss Walton is engaged to a Stratford man, and following the discovery of the tragedy left her home for Stratford. Last night the police were continuing their inquiries and had visited a camp in the area. Later it was stated that the police regard the crime as the work of a lunatic or someone maddened by drink. — Stratford-upon-Avon Herald, 16th of February, 1945

It is curious that the first story the papers told was that Walton was killed at a Black Mass at midnight, a wonderful story to conjure up scenes of horror, when people noticed that if Walton was killed at a Black Mass at midnight on St. Valentine’s Eve, it was curious that so many people saw him alive and well the next day; so the story was hastily changed. She now said that “he was killed exactly at Mid-day on St. Valentine’s Day”. Now it so happens I was one of the people consulted at the time of the murder, as to the possibility of its being a ritual murder, or a sacrifice. I said it can’t be a sacrifice because, what use is an old cripple for a sacrifice? All races I know of want something young and vigorous. Because I was consulted I was told certain things not usually known, and I presume they are still police secrets, so I don’t mention them. But I can say he was alive and well after mid-day, so this second story is all moonshine. Although, if I am right, in one sense Charles Walton was a human sacrifice; he was a victim of the long campaign of witch-hunting that has been waged throughout the centuries; and the modern purveyors of fear and folly may well take it to their consciences. — Gerald B. Gardner, The Meaning of Witchcraft, 1959

After all, newspaper sensations are a very easy target for criticism, so easy that they are hardly worth shooting at. A new one appears regularly every week, duly makes its contribution to the gaiety of nations, and then comes in very useful for wrapping fish. However, when things are said which may affect the investigation of an unsolved murder, the matter becomes more serious. To unmask irresponsible sensationalism is then a public duty. This mysterious and terrible crime, which shattered the peace of a beautiful, secluded little village in the Cotswolds in 1945, has been the subject of wild speculation, and dark hints of witchcraft and ritual murder. — Gerald B. Gardner, The Meaning of Witchcraft, 1959

— These considerations are dedicated to playwright and novelist John Griffith Bowen. 5th of November, 1924 – 18th of April, 2019.

[pyrrhvcs]

♕ ( none / 43 / male / he/him ) — did you see PRESCOTT BECKETT wandering around the island today? they kind of look like HENRY CAVILL from certain angles? i heard around town that the DEFENCE ATTORNEY is AMBITIOUS, and TENACIOUS, but also AGGRESSIVE, and PESSIMISTIC. people say that they remind them of DAILY DRIVE TO THE COURT HOUSE, UNREADABLE EXPRESSION ON HIS FACE AS HE WORKS, and POINTLESS ARGUMENTS TO PROVE HIM RIGHT, and COME AS YOU ARE by NIRVANA is definitely their theme song. they seem like a nice enough person, but we all know how hard it is to keep a pristine reputation in a small town. ( zoey / 25+ / gmt+10 / she her )

INFO

Name: Prescott Beckett

Age: 43

Birthday: February 23th, 1980

Education: Bachelors of law, Juris Doctorate

BIO

Prescott Beckett is born in a small town in the Midwest. When he is just five years old, his parents abandon him, and he is left in the care of his paternal grandparents. Despite this difficult start in life, Prescott has a relatively happy childhood in Kings Haven. His grandparents are loving and provide him with stability and security.

In high school, Prescott is an active participant in sports. He is the star quarterback on the football team and is known for his agility and quick thinking on the field. It is during this time that he meets Mishka, his first love. They are inseparable and have a picture-perfect relationship. But after graduation, Mishka decides to end things with him through a simple text message, leaving him devastated.

After high school, Prescott decides to pursue a degree in law. He moves to Chicago to attend school and throws himself into his studies. His hard work pays off, and he graduates at the top of his class. He begins working as a lawyer, and it isn't long before he meets Anna, a fellow lawyer. Their relationship is a safe one. It's unlike what he feels with Mishka and after an appropriate time has passed they get married when Prescott was thirty-two years old.

Unfortunately, their marriage is short-lived, and they soon realize that they are not right for each other. They decide to go their separate ways, but not before they have two children together, Jordan, seven, and Brooklyn, five. Ana have since remarried and they co-parent perfectly; the children staying with him every other week. These days, Prescott is working as a defence attorney.

HEADCANON

He has a soft spot for animals and often donates to local animal shelters.

He has a love for classic cars and has been restoring a vintage Ford Mustang in his spare time.

He is a proud father and dotes on his children. He often takes them on hiking trips and camping adventures to foster their love of nature and attends all of their performances/activities.

When his kids are not with him, he spends time with friends because he misses them too much.

WANTED CONNECTIONS

Ex-girlfriend ; Mishka Yadav

Friends ;

Enemies ;

Colleagues ;

[reigningqueenofwords]

Charlotte and William

Pairing: Bruce x Reader Word count: 2,858

Read on AO3

Part 20 of Without Me

Charlotte was just about three months old, and you were putting together Beckett’s second birthday party. Maryanne had brought over her son, William, and the pair of you were looking up ideas. “Dinosaur everything.” Maryanne giggled. Beckett was nearby and let out a cute ‘rawr’, making you grin.  

You ruffled his hair as he passed by and began writing things down that you needed. Your parents were coming, and you made your father promise to keep his mouth shut. You wanted it to be a fun time for everyone. 

“Daddy!” Beckett squealed as your husband came in. 

“Wow.” You beamed. “You’re home early.” 

“Starting my week off early.” He scooped up Beckett. “Was thinking we could all go out to eat later?” 

Beckett hugged him tightly. “Food!”

You smiled and nodded. “Of course.” You smiled as Charlotte kicked where she was in her swing. 

“There’s my princess.” He smiled at her. “You been good for mommy and Auntie Maryanne?”

She coo’d and dribbled happily. “She’s been amazing.” Maryanne smiled. “And William has slept.” She chuckled, looking at her son. 

“He’s adorable.” Bruce chuckled. “It’s his nap all the time phase.” He sat with Beckett. “I envy him.”

You both giggled at that. “Baby boy drew you something today.” You set your things aside to go get it.

Beckett wiggled excitedly as you brought it and gave it to Bruce. “You made this for me, buddy?” He beamed proudly at his son.

“Mhmm.” Beckett nodded. “For work.” He said happily. "Mommy, daddy, sissy, me." He pointed at the colorful scribbles. 

Bruce grinned. “We look awesome. I’m framing it, okay?” He tickled him. He kissed Beckett's cheek. "So, Maryanne, how are things with Nick?" He asked. Her and Nick had met towards the end of her pregnancy, and hit it off.

“He’s wonderful. Doesn’t mind taking things slow.” She beamed. “He is also very understanding if I can’t make a date or something. There’s been a few phone dates.”

“That’s sweet.” You smiled.

Bruce nodded. “It is. I’ll kick his ass if he hurts you.” He reminded her every time. “Promise.”

“He’s beefy, Bruce. Wouldn’t want you to get hurt.” She teased. 

“The bigger they are, the harder they fall.” He chuckled.

You grinned at that. “We’ll both kick his ass.” You giggled. “Maybe put some dirty diapers in his car.” You laughed, startling poor William. “Oops.” You pouted. 

“It’s okay.” Maryanne smiled and lifted him to cuddle him. “I got you.” She rubbed his back. 

“He’s little!” Beckett smiled. “Cute!” 

Bruce beamed at him. “Are you going to teach him stuff when he’s older?” He asked, knowing William was like a close cousin.

“Yeah! A lot!” He grinned. He had been a bit iffy around William and Charlotte for a bit, not warming up until each infant was nearly a month old. He was scared when they would cry for a while until he learned to help soothe them with cuddles. He was already a wonderful big brother.

Maryanne smiled at Beckett. “So, any gifts on your birthday list I should know about?” 

He squirmed out of Bruce's lap, rushing to his playroom, and back. Handing her his 'list', he smiled. "Der." He pointed 

She grinned as she looked it over. “How cute.” 

"We can have Bruce take him out and we'll go shopping with the babies soon." You told her. 

“Can’t wait.” She said happily. "Hard to believe he's going to be two!!"

“He’s a big boy.” Bruce said proudly. “He needs to stop growing up so fast!”

“I’m little!” Beckett giggled. “Daddy big!”

“I guess you’re right.” Bruce said dramatically. “So smart!”

You looked at them lovingly and went back to planning. “So, we’re having a dinosaur party.” You told Bruce.

“Awesome. How much overboard can I go?” He grinned. 

“You are not bringing a dinosaur back to life.” You teased him.

“Deal.” He laughed. “I don’t think I’d want to clean up after one.”

“Can’t be worse than some of the blowouts we’ve had to clean up.” You giggled. “And we still have many more months of that with this one.” You tickled Charlotte’s foot.

She kicked at that but grinned gummily. “You two make the cutest babies.” Maryanne told you.

“It’s all Bruce’s good genes.” You grinned. “They both look exactly like him.”

Bruce shook his head. “I don’t agree.” He smiled. “They’re beautiful like their momma.” He kissed the top of Beckett’s head. “Isn’t mommy the prettiest?” He asked him. 

“Mhmm! Mama bootiful!” Beckett smiled. He wiggled happily, clapping as he repeated it over and over.

You teared up at how cute he was and reached over to scoop him up. “Mommy loves you.” You kissed his cheek. He giggled and cuddled to you. 

“You’re all so precious.” Maryanne gushed. “Hallmark and Lifetime worthy!”

You smiled at her. “You included.” You told her. “You’re...you’re like my sister.”

She beamed at you. “I love you and I’m proud to be that for you.” She shifted to hug you with one arm. “But, I’m gonna let you guys have a family day, and I’m gonna get this little guy to my parents.” She told you. “Gym time, then a hot shower, and hopefully a date with Nick.”

You grinned. “Text me on how it goes.” You stood to help her. “Have fun.” You hugged her.

“Don’t do anything I would.” Bruce hugged her next. When you and Maryanne laughed, he smirked. “Shush.”

“Bye!” Beckett hugged her legs. “Bye, Willie!” He smiled. “Bye, Aunie!”

“Bye, cutie.” Maryanne kissed his cheek as you lifted him. “I’ll see you soon.” She promised before moving to get William’s diaper bag.

You walked her out and waved once she was settled. Turning back, you let out a content sigh. “So, what should we do until Daddy takes us to dinner?” You asked Beckett.

He thought and ran to get his bag of Megablocks. “Pway!” He cheered when he got back to the living room.

You giggled and nodded. “Alright, let's let Daddy have time with sister while we do the towers?” You moved to get on the floor with him. “Let’s make them as high as we can!”

“Yay!” He cheered and lifted his arms up. He sat down happily, dumping his blocks out.

You watched him happily and helped him stack when he handed you a block. Bruce lifted Charlotte into his arms, watching the pair of you. “You’ll be helping them soon, princess.” He told her, making you smile at him for a moment.  

Charlotte flailed her little arm and looked at him happily. She kicked when he looked back at her. 

“Come to mommy.” You held out your hands, Charlotte so close to crawling. 

She tugged herself, dragging herself along and stopping. “Go, Charlie!” Beckett cheered. She squealed at her brother and managed to crawl a teeny bit his way. “Yay!” He clapped along with you.

You beamed at your kids. “You help her so much, Beckett.” You gave him a high five. 

He jumped excitedly and got on the floor with his sister. She sat with him, beaming. He gently hugged her and kissed her head, making you melt. You snapped a few pictures, sending them to Bruce.

My babies! He replied. Followed quickly by the heart eye emoji. This is my new wallpaper now. 

Giggling, you shook your head. “Daddy is silly.” You told them both. "So silly." You tickled Beckett. He burst into giggles, making Charlotte laugh as well. She tipped over, but Beckett helped her up. She snuggled to his side and yawned. "Alright, nap time." You got up before lifting her. 

She whined and reached for Beckett. She squirmed, wanting her brother. 

"Want to nap with sissy?"

Beckett nodded. “Okay.” He agreed. Reaching up, he took your hand as you led them to her room. 

You beamed as you put her in her crib. "So sweet." You lifted Beckett, thankful he was still small enough to fit in there with her. You stood there, singing softly to them. 

Charlotte hugged her brother and was instantly out. You chuckled as Beckett let out a large yawn, slowly drifting off beside her. Taking one more picture, you sent it to Bruce. Next one when he starts school, Mr. Wayne? 

He sent a ton of heart emojis. Please! He replied, making you giggle as you made your way out of her room to do some housework. I’m putting that on my calendar ;) 

Dork. You sent back with a kissy emoji. Can’t wait, though. You added before putting your phone in your back pocket and picking up the toys Beckett had been showing Charlotte. 

That evening Bruce came in with a large bouquet of flowers. “There’s the loves of my life.” He said proudly. “I’m sorry I’m late.” He gave you a pout. “It got really busy.”

“It happens.” You said softly, burping Charlotte. “You might have to make it up to our son though.” Beckett had fallen asleep with a frown on his face since Bruce missed bedtime. “He did not want to go to sleep without you reading to him.”

Bruce sagged. “I’ll go in late tomorrow and spend breakfast with him.” He promised. “I’ll even make it, okay?”

“You don’t have to. I’m sure he’ll just be happy enough to see you before work.” You leaned into him as he rubbed your cheek. “And I’m happy to see you now.” You smiled. “Let me get this one to bed and I’ll make us a drink.

He held out his arms. “I’ll do it.” He gently took the sleepy infant. He cuddled her closely for a moment before taking her to her room. He hated missing moments with his kids. Once she was in her crib, he made his way back out to you. 

You handed him a drink. “She’s crawling.” You told him.

“She is?” He asked in surprise. 

"Yup. With Beckett's help, our eight month old is mobile." You beamed. “She loves her brother so much.” You sipped your drink. "I hope that our next one bonds with them as well as they've bonded with each other." 

“I hope so.” He gently leaned down to kiss you. “You’re a wonderful mother.” He wrapped his arm around your waist.

You nuzzled him. “I have a wonderful husband who helps.” You reminded him. “Let’s relax for a bit, okay?”

He nodded. “Anything you want.” He moved with you to the couch to sit down. “So, mom wants a family vacation soon.”

You hummed. “A big one?” You asked, leaning your head on his shoulder. “Or just like...her, your dad, us, the kids, and Alfred?” 

“Well, for one, Alfred would go visit his niece.” He chuckled.

“Oh, true.” You pouted. “He deserves a nice break.” You nodded.

“He does.” He agreed. “Where he can sleep in.” He chuckled. “And do whatever he likes.” 

You smiled at that. “Then we should take a vacation so he can have a vacation.” You giggled. 

“And since he refuses to leave if there is someone in the house it’s the only solution.” He grinned. “I’ll tell mom you’re up for the vacation. And try to make sure she doesn’t go overboard.”

You snorted. “Try.” You laughed, shaking your head. “Good luck with that.” You shifted to kiss his jaw. “Take me to bed for now? I’d like some alone time with my husband.” You set your drink down.

He followed suit, standing. “Mm, won’t say no to that.” He lifted you. “I’ll never say no.” 

“Promise?” You held onto him. You always wanted him to want you. 

“Cross my heart.” He kissed your temple. “You’re the hottest woman alive.” He promised. “And always will be.” He kissed you gently as he walked into your room, kicking the door shut.  

Beckett was thrilled the following morning to be eating his breakfast on Bruce’s lap. "Daddy!" He offered Bruce a bite, giggling when Bruce did with a playful growl.

You beamed at your boys. “See what you miss at breakfast?” You teased him as you fed Charlotte.

“Honey, if I could, I’d be here everyday.” He smiled. “All day, everyday. But, then you’d get sick of me.” He chuckled.

“Never.” You promised. “Except when you leave your socks right next to the hamper.” You smirked. 

He sighed with a grin. “Yeah, yeah.” He looked over at Charlotte. "She's getting so big!" He whined. 

Charlotte giggled at him, tossing a bit of carrots his way. He closed his eyes as the puree hit him. "Charlie!" Beckett sighed, shaking his head.

Charlotte burst into giggles and kicked in her chair while you rushed to get a washcloth. She clapped, making a bigger mess.

Bruce gently set down Beckett. “I’m gonna go change.” He chuckled. "I'll be right back, buddy."

Beckett crossed his arms and pouted at his sister. You came back in and raised an eyebrow at him. "What's wrong?"

“Charlie made daddy yeave!” He pouted more. His bottom lip stuck out. "Mean!"

“She’s too little to understand that messes are bad.” You assured him, wiping her down. "You used to do the same thing."

“Not uh!” Beckett shook his head. “I’m good!” He declared, stopping his little foot.

You looked at him. “You learned, yes. But Charlotte hasn’t. Maybe you can teach her okay?” You tried, as that usually helped 

He shrugged and sat on the floor while he pouted. Bruce came back in, and stopped. "What's going on?"

“Beckett was a tiny bit upset at Charlotte.” You explained. "Said she made you leave."

Bruce raised his eyebrows and lifted the toddler. “I’m back, Buddy.” He told him. "I just had to change. I couldn't go to work like that."

“Charlie bad!” He pouted, hugging him. 

"No, buddy, she's still learning. Just like you're learning how to count and sing your ABCs!" He explained. 

Beckett wasn’t having it and clutched to Bruce. "I gotta go to work soon, so can you be good for Mommy?"

“Me go?” He asked. "Please?"

“I’m sorry, bud. You have to stay home.” He said softly. "Daddy's work is really boring. But I'm home tomorrow. Maybe we can go to the park? Just us?" You knew he was going to start crying when he sniffed and winced. You hated when your babies cried. Bruce brought him into a hug and sighed. “Beckett.” He rubbed his back.

“Daddy no go!” He wailed. He clung to him, worse than you'd ever seen.

Bruce looked at you worriedly as he held him. “Daddy goes everyday, why not today?” He asked him. 

"I miss you." He sniffled.

You watched just as worried, wringing your hands. "He's never been like this." You voiced. "I can usually distract him when he wants you and you’re at work." 

Bruce stood, holding the crying toddler. “Maybe if I can get him to nap?” He offered. 

"He doesn't nap until after lunch."

He bit his lip, checking the time. “I have to go, buddy. How about I call you from work?” He asked. "I'll video call, so you can see me?"

Beckett hiccuped and rubbed his eyes. “Fine.” He agreed, not that he wanted to. He wiggled free from his grip and ran to his room. 

Bruce looked down and sighed. “Maybe staying for breakfast wasn’t a good idea?” He said sadly. 

“I think it would’ve happened either way.” You hugged his middle. “It’ll be okay.” You told him. “He’s just at the age where he’s more aware.” You told him.

He sighed and nodded. “You’re right. I’m sure by dinner he will be fine.” He kissed your cheek. “Like I said, I’ll bring him out tomorrow.”

You nodded. “Drive safe.” You squeezed him. “We love you.”

“I love you, too.” He smiled and kissed Charlotte‘s head before leaving quickly. He’d be distracted all day, wanting to get home to his family. 

You spent the day cuddling your kids, Beckett never really brightening to his usual self. He kept looking at the door, only smiling when Bruce video called before his nap. He drew him a few pictures which helped but as soon as the car was in the driveway he was trying to open the door. You walked over, gently pulling him away, Charlotte on your hip. “Let him get in, Beckett.”

Bruce walked in and gave a small ‘oof’ when Beckett launched himself at him. “I’m here, I’m here. I’m all yours for two days.”

Beckett clutched to him as tightly as his little body could. “My daddy!” He all but climbed up Bruce before he had a chance to really pick him up.

Bruce furrowed his brows worriedly. “What’s going on, kiddo? Did you have a nightmare last night?” He asked, not used to him acting like this.

“You missed bed!” He sniffled. “And lefted!” His eyes were filled with tears. 

You sagged, realizing this was the first time he could remember Bruce missing his bedtime story. And it wouldn’t be the last time, either. “I’ll be at tonight's bedtime.” Bruce told him. “I promise.”

Beckett hid in his neck and nodded. “Kay.”

You rubbed your husbands back and leaned into him. You hoped that things got easier as time went on. 

[luciadiosa]

"I did it out of honor"

Pirates of the carribean - Request

for the lovely @umgatochamadopercyval

With i share my birthday today at the 27. december. Capicorns!

Happy birthday to you! I hope you have a nice birthday today with your loved once. Be healthy and may your wishes come true.

Enjoy the little short story with James Norrington.

"Y/N!" she shouted. Your beloved sister. A graceful but strong woman and the real daughter of Gavenor Swann. Elizabeth.

You always fight since you were little. The family adopted you after you los your family. Elizabeth nearly begged her father. Now you watched her with Will and interrupted a moment of peace. A kiss between those too.

"Don't worry" a voice whispered. "I take care of you. Noone will harm you and she loves you either way." You turned around. Sparrow.

"What?"

"You fear you lost her. You don't want to be alone. Aftee you lost your home, your father."

Jack took some steps. "As long Beckett has any use for him."

"Our father lives!" you insisted.

The pirate's words echo in your head. If there were a handful of decent pirates, and if Jack is one of them, then it doesn't matter. Because aboard these pirates, you're just a prisoner and you didn't think you will see Jack Sparrow again.

-

"Darling, without me you would still be on board. I saved you. No Navy, no Will Turner, nor your sister or that bloody Norrington. So you owe me, aye?."

You look at Jack. He was right. It was he who saved her. He pushed open the door, stood over you and freed you. So you own him at least respect and gratitude. You don't admit it but he grew into your heart. He isn't that bad. A filthy pirate yes but no villian.

And yet you are now standing between the men who conquered your heart. One quickly and with ease. You have always admired the other. But James had eyes for your sister. So she was the older one and the one who represented her family. You're just adopted.

You turn to Jack. Freedom with him was exciting and enticing. He showed you more respect in some situations than a Nobelman would. you smile at him Jack leans back slightly and opens his arms. He grinned and pulled up a corner of his mouth. With him you have someone who accepts you as you are.

"A choice has been made! A choice against true love." You turn around sharply when you hear James moan. Davy grabbed him. The captain of the dutchman is happy. He was right when he said you are a monster of the sea a daughter of Calipso and don't deserve to be loved.

The admiral's eyes meet yours. Full of sadness and disappointment that destroyed the rest of longing. "Let him go." you demand "I told you the loser knows the sea." With a shove, James falls over the rail. "No!" you cheer and Davy laughs. "We have to go. THIS is our chance! He won't survive!" Jack whispers, grabbing your sleeve.

You desperately try to break away from Jack's grip. "Y/N!" your name out of his mouth lets you see him. "Remember I rescued you. Remember all the nights of fun and rum. Of our connection." But then he understood and loosens his fingers from you.

A second full of deep understanding before you heave yourself over the railing with quick steps and jump towards the ice-cold water. The sea embraces you like a piece of motherland that calls back a prodigal daughter.

Once the transformation is complete, you could swim faster against the current and grab James by the wrist. He has already closed his eyes when he feels your hands and the pull up. Stunned by the cold and the weight of soaked clothing, he could barely move.

"I'm so sorry. Please hold on!" you call out to him as soon as he was up. Time stopped for a moment. Stopped the sea and you float. With the last of his strength, James lifts his hand and puts it on your cheek. He looks into your [your eye colour] eyes. His blue lips form your name and a smile. At least he sees you in his last hour. Before he loses consciousness, you give him a kiss on his cold lips. Trembling with anger, you clutch his clothes even more. It must not end.

Breaking waves. The constant murmur was only drowned out by the birds migrating across the blue sky.

The sun blinds you as a cough brings you back to reality.

You pull yourself up and see him. The admiral of your heart. James Norington. His actual hair already air dried. When he calmed down, your eyes meet.

His then wandered over your naked body and he realized what was happening.

Even before he asked, he took off his uniform coat and covered you with it. It was wet but served to hide you from view.

"Did I deceive you?" he begins. "Have you...are you...a mermaid?"

Silence. This silence confirms it to him. He looks at the sea and touches his forehead.

"You could have ripped me to pieces if the tales are to be believed. But you didn't." he mentions.

"James.." You lean in and adjust his head with your hand on his chin so he's looking at you. Your hand slips to his cheek.

"I don't kill anyone I have feelings for."

"Feelings?" - "Deep as the sea"

An encouraging smile from you preceded the kiss. But instead of you, James puts both hands on your cheeks and pulls your head into a kiss. In which his lips meet yours.

You kiss back passionately until you wrap your arms around his wet body and let yourself fall back onto the sand with him.

After minutes of intimacy, you now lie there, turned to each other, arm in arm. You can feel his breath through your nose on your forehead.

"I always thought you adored my sister Lizzie." you mumble

"I did it out of honor. I wasn't allowed to follow my heart either. She was a better match in the eyes of society. But when you were with her, I had to force myself not to keep my eyes on the face. Because you I wanted more" James kisses you on the forehead and you smile.

"But things have changed... Unlike her, you didn't join a pirate voluntarily."

"But me and Jack..."

"I ignore it. As much as it hurts... my love for you is stronger and I know we'll find a way."

Silently you snuggle up to his body, whose clothes are slowly drying and warming up in the sun. After all this time you could be with him. That he reciprocated your feelings made your heart leap for joy.

[slowlyhardgoatee]

Listen, boy, I know you just turned eighteen a couple weeks ago. I also know you’re still a virgin. You’ve been eyeing me up ever since your birthday, haven’t you?

You know I’m mean, don’t you boy? I’m a nasty, controlling, dominant bastard and I like my faggots quiet and obedient. I also like belting them. One lash for every day you’ve been eyeing me up, I think.

One… two… three…

Hang on a second. Are you hard, boy? Yeah? You like a fat old man belting your arse, eh? Well. I think I know a place I can take you. Get over here and suck my cock while I make a phone call. I’m about to change your life, boy.

Yeah, Bill? Hi, this is Steve. Listen, I’ve got a virgin faggot here who’s sucking my cock like it’s a fucking lollipop. I was belting him and he instantly got hard and started leaking pre-cum. Turns out this faggot likes the idea of being given a good hiding by a group of fat old bears so I thought I’d better give you a ring. You still got the keys to the old Beckett place up on the hill? Good. Why don’t you ring a few of the guys - Mike, Phil, Joe, Dave and - wait, who’s that fat old pervert you know who likes ‘em real young? Earl? Yeah. Make sure you give Earl a call. Tell him the faggot’s virginity is his for the taking after we’ve all finished tanning his arse. And don’t bother bringing any condoms or lube. The way he’s sucking my dick I don’t think we’ll be needing either of them.

That’s right, isn’t it, boy? We can all take turns breeding you, can’t we? Ah-ah, don’t take my cock out of your mouth. Just suck me. Once for ‘Yes’, twice for ‘Sir’. Good boy.

Bill, I’ll see you all up there in an hour. First I’m gonna nut down the back of this faggot’s throat for him.

There you go, boy. That’s it, swallow it all. Good lad. That certainly won’t be the last cum load you’ll be swallowing today, not by a long way. Now let’s get in the car and drive out to the old Beckett place. Bill’s got a nice setup out there, ideal for breaking and training boys. And I can’t wait to see the look on your face when Earl rams his thick cock up your virgin cunt and breeds it. And he’ll just be the first. You’ll have seven big fat hairy blokes taking it in turns raping you. Say goodbye to your tight hole, boy, because it’s gonna get destroyed.