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intuitive-revelations · 9 months ago

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The near future in the Doctor Who universe sure gets dire doesn't it? Especially if Mad Jack / Roger ap Gwilliam is still part of history.

I thought I'd have a bit of fun listing things out, combining as many sources as possible. Turns out he fits in shockingly well with what we know. There's a lot missing here or cut out, and for obvious reasons it's very UK / Europe focused, but nonetheless:

[ID: Scene from The Christmas Invasion showing Harriet Jones on BBC News. The news ticker reads "PM HEALTH SCARE", "Unfit for duty?", and references a "SECRET GOVERNMENT MOLE" and a quote: "BLOOD ON [HER HANDS]".]

2006-2021 (obviously the past now, but still noting for the resulting temporal and political butterfly effect) - In the original timeline, Harriet Jones remains Prime Minister for 3 consecutive terms, presumably 15 years assuming no snap election was called, referred to as a 'golden age' [World War Three]. The Tenth Doctor deliberately changes history to cause her deposal [The Christmas Invasion], leading to numerous disastrous terms in the meantime, including those of Harold Saxon [The Sound of Drums et al.], Brian Green (who tried to appease the 456) [Children of Earth], Boris Johnson (an auton host of the Nestene Consciousness) [Rose (novelisation)], and Jo Patterson (responsible for deploying cloned Dalek defence drones in the UK's streets) [Revolution of the Daleks].

[ID: Scene from Revolution of the Daleks. A 'defence drone' Dalek is used to support anti-riot police in a test, dispersing protestors with mock tear gas.]

2010s-2030s - The European Union gradually integrates further, eventually becoming the European Zone / Eurozone, a global superpower which competes with the USA through the 21st century. The UK eventually forms part of the bloc [Trading Futures].

It's likely that Harriet Jones's deposal led to this and related events being delayed or erased, with Brexit (driven by, among others, one of Jones's successors in the new timeline) reducing european unity. Most notably, Ramón Salamander's rise to power occurs now not in the 2010s [The Enemy of the World], but in the 2030s [Doctor Who and the Enemy of the World]. There are other events that are seemingly delayed by ~20 years by changes to the timeline, including future events like the dictatorship of Mariah Learman [The Time of the Daleks, Trading Futures], and yet also possibly past events like the death of Queen Elizabeth II [Battlefield, The Longest Night et al.], which may suggest something else (eg. the Time War) may be responsible.

~2030 - During a time of rising global tensions [73 Yards], Ramón Salamander convinces a group of scientists in an underground shelter endurance experiment that nuclear war has broken out on the surface. They are convinced to generate artificial "natural" disasters to fight back against the enemy. Between this and ongoing climate change, several global food sources collapse as a result, including Canada and Ukraine's corn and flour production [The Enemy of the World].

2031 - Tensions culminate in the "Great Russian War". Despite posturing, not a single nuclear weapon is fired, at least by NATO [73 Yards]. This may be later considered World War III [Trading Futures].

~2032-2035 - Following the war, tensions rise again, now between the Eurozone and the USA [Trading Futures], possibly in reaction to actions (or lack thereof?) taken by NATO during the war [73 Yards]. Both send separate peacekeeping forces to conflict in North Africa. Meanwhile, Italy is engaged in civil war [Trading Futures].

[ID: Scene from The Enemy of the World, showing Ramón Salamander.]

Over the decade, Ramón Salamander rises in power in the World Zone Authority, using his patented "Sun Store" satellite technology to aid the growth of crops by controlling sunlight over agricultural regions. In the background, he murders and blackmails officials to place loyalists into powerful positions, with the goal of ruling over the World Zone Authority as a dictator. Salamander's treachery is later discovered and he disappears [The Enemy of the World].

2037 - 2042 - Several militia declare wars of Independence from the USA. Notably, Phoenix, Arizona is destroyed in a terrorist attack. While the country largely persists after the conflicts, some territories seem to successfully secede - with, for example, a Montana Republic seemingly being in existence in 2054 [Alien Bodies].

2038 - The World Zones Accord is signed. This is later considered to have reduced the United Nations to a 'joke' compared with the World Zone Authority [Alien Bodies]. Given the extensive power it gives to the WZA, this was likely originally part of Salamander's plan, but due to his disappearance he is not around to reap the rewards [The Enemy of the World].

2039 - A group of Mexican astronauts studying minerals on the Moon go missing [Kill the Moon].

~2030s - 2040s - The Earth begins to experience major climate change effects, including "appalling storm conditions" which harm agriculture [The Waters of Mars]. The ice caps melt and flood much of the Earth [K9] with nations like the Netherlands ending up entirely flooded [St Anthony's Fire]. Some regions experience corrosive acid rain [Cat's Cradle: War Head, Strange Loops]. One summer sees Britain experience a 22 week drought. At this time, the Eurozone closes its borders to millions of North African and Baltic Sea refugees [Hothouse]. This time period may be known as the "Oil Apocalypse" [The Waters of Mars].

[ID: Scene from K9 Episode 13: Aeolian. Big Ben stands in the middle of a colossal storm of wind and rain.]

With Earth's ecosystems collapsing [Davros], humanity begin to realise it's facing extinction [The Waters of Mars]. An artificial cooling agent is spread in the atmosphere to semi-successfully combat the effects, but leads to dramatic side-effects, including freezing some areas of the globe. This is known as the "Great Cataclysm" [K9].

2041 - A three-human team, including Adelaide Brooke, lands on Mars for the first time [The Waters of Mars]. However, with this accomplishment, and increasing turbulence on Earth, Humanity gradually loses interest in space exploration [Kill the Moon].

Before 2045 - Around this time, the UK falls into a dictatorship ruled by the "Director", head of a military council that has allegedly (secretly?) controlled the government since 2028 [Britain Protests]. It is possible that this Director was previously the "Minister of War" for previous governments [Before the Flood].

2045 - The World Zones Authority evolves into a World Government, with Nikita Bandranaik being elected President. The UK is not part of the organisation [This is 2065].

2046-2050s - The Director is overthrown [Down with the Director] and the rest of the government "collapses in shame" [73 Yards]. Some of the revolutionaries celebrate now being "masters of [their] own country" [Down with the Director]. Despite the hopes of the World Government for international integration, this nationalistic streak continues.

[ID: Scene from 73 Yards. Roger ap Gwilliam, with an Albion Party ribbon on his chest declares victory on BBC News, live from Kennington High in London. Headline reads "LANDSLIDE VICTORY FOR ALBION PARTY: Majority of 92 predicted. Roger ap Gwilliam declared Prime Minister."]

Roger ap Gwilliam is elected Prime Minister, with the far-right nationalistic Albion Party gaining a majority of 92 MPs [73 Yards]. While his government does take the step to officially join the World Government senate [Down with the Director], he seeks greater independence from other nations. One of his first actions is to expand the UK's nuclear arsenal, purchasing missiles from Pakistan and withdrawing from NATO. In his term, the world is brought to the brink of nuclear war [73 Yards], likely in the pre-2050s "Euro Wars" [The Time of the Daleks].

In this time, the "Department", a (private?) multinational security organisation is born, based primarily in the UK. They gain broad powers, which they use to control populations with propaganda and use of "CCPC"s: robotic law enforcement notorious for their surveillance and brutality. Despite its recent revolution, the country is rendered practically a police state [K9].

[ID: Scene from K9 Episode 1: Regeneration. CCPCs, hulking police robots, march down a dark alley.]

2049 - The Moon starts to dramatically gain mass, causing massive tides on the Earth, flooding entire cities. In a last ditch at survival, humanity plans to try and destroy the Moon using an array of nuclear bombs. Despite the people of Earth being offered the vote on what to do by turning off their lights, it appears the decision is made on a national level, with lights going off grid-by-grid. Nonetheless, the Moon is allowed to hatch, leaving behind a new less massive egg "moon" with minimal further destruction [Kill the Moon].

[ID: Scene from Kill the Moon. The Moon hatches in the background, as the TARDIS stands by the sea.]

Humanity's interest in space exploration returns [Kill the Moon], starting a new space race. Among these projects, Australia begins constucting a space elevator, Spain a project called "SpaceLink", while Germany and Russia each begin a series of new Moon missions. The Philippines are rumoured to be planning their own landing on Mars [The Waters of Mars].

~2050 - The UK Government (ap Gwilliam's?) is couped once more, by General Mariah Learman. With the King's permission, elections are suspended for at least a couple years, with her ruling over a "benevolent dictatorship". She is later abducted and forcibly mutated by the Daleks [The Time of the Daleks]. Despite the previous description, her promotion of Shakespeare in schools is remembered as the only good thing about her rule [Trading Futures]. (Note: As mentioned prior, it's likely that Learman's rule may have been delayed as Salamander's was. This is suggested by the mention of her in Trading Futures, set seemingly ~2030s or earlier, despite The Time of the Daleks taking place around the 2050s.)

~2050s - The Gravitron is built on the new Moon. This is used to artificially control the tides and weather [The Moonbase]. It likely also is intended to study and monitor the new Moon for future changes [Kill the Moon].

[ID: Scene from The Moonbase, giving an external shot of the base.]

2058 - 2059 - Bowie Base One is established: humanity's first colony on another planet and an international collaboration between the UK, USA, Russia, Germany, Turkey, South Korea, Lithuania, Australia, and Pakistan. One year later, it is mysteriously destroyed in a deliberately triggered nuclear explosion. In the original timeline, there were no survivors. However, after the interference of the Time Lord Victorious, the true story is eventually told on Earth. Regardless "a veil of darkness" sweeps over the planet over the next few years. [The Waters of Mars], as international tensions heat up once more... [Total Eclipse of the Heart].

[ID: Scene from The Waters of Mars, showing an internet news website. Various articles appear focused on the Bowie Base One incident, including "SURVIVORS STORY - BROOKE SAVED EARTH", "THE MYTHICAL DOCTOR", "BROOKE'S HEROIC ACTIONS SAVE EARTH", and "HOW THE COUPLE ESCAPED MARS". The feature image shows the two survivors: Yuri Kerenski and Mia Bennett.]

2060s - The "Great War" breaks out on Earth, involving every country on Earth. This is likely World War IV. Details are vague, but it ultimately ends in a ceasefire, when it's realised the conflict is risking Earth's habitability [Total Eclipse of the Heart].

#Doctor Who #DW Spoilers #Doctor Who Spoilers #73 Yards #DW Theory #Canon-Welding #Long Post

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averagewriter-inthedark · 15 days ago

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The Ship Of Dreams 🚢 | Twilight Imagine

Set during the events between New Moon and Eclipse & after Breading Dawn Part 2

Twilight Masterlist

Characters & Pairings: Cullen!reader (female), Bella Swan-Cullen (platonic), Edward Cullen (adoptive ‘twin’ brother), the Cullen family (platonic/adoptive family), family OC!s, Alex Mason!oc (past romance)

Content Warnings: major angst, smoking, details of historical event disaster, profanity, descriptions of stalking and death | female!reader (she/her) | wc: 9.4k

Requested 📨 yes/no (rules for requests)

Premise: Bella Swan always wondered what the story was of her vampire boyfriend’s so called ‘twin’ sister. Quiet and reserved, she had a mysterious aura to her, and what many would describe as a lady lost in time. Though she appeared no older than the age of 17, Y/n Cullen had eyes that saw a multitude of lives. Though in April 2006, the anniversary of a fateful night, finally reveals the truth behind the ‘youngest’ Cullen’s history with the Ship of Dreams.

Note: I had this Twilight x Titanic work in the making for two years 💀😭 back when I visited the Titanic Museum in 2023! I had done the TGM x Titanic AU and immediately started working on this but then, as usual, I got hyperfixated on other things and pushed this to the back burner...but anyway hope y'all like this! ❤️ also I cried writing the hospital scene. I mean I literally had to pause and gather myself at times while writing it because I was making myself so sad.

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April 2006

In the year since becoming involved with Edward Cullen and learning of the secret he and his family share, Bella had yet to uncover the story of his ‘twin’ by name and nature, Y/n.

Calling them twins was a far reach. Sure they had the same golden eyes and inhumanly beautiful physique, but that was it. Unlike Rosalie and Jasper who were blonde and could easily pass as twin siblings, Y/n and Edward appeared nothing alike save for the tiny detail they shared the same birthday of June 20th and were both turned at the age of 17. But whereas Edward was born in the year 1901, Y/n’s was 1895–the same year Esme was born.

Bella only learned this by doing the math, after Edward let it slip Y/n was technically six years older than him.

Like Alice and Jasper, Y/n had not been turned by Carlisle but, to Bella’s surprise, was the first to join his coven. Well before Edward came into the picture. When asked about this, following Edward’s explanation of Carlisle’s origin to her the night she visited his home for the first time, Edward plainly stated with a look she couldn’t decipher, “You’d have to ask her, it’s not my story to tell.”

But Bella never could bring herself to ask. Y/n’s exterior was as cold as Rosalie’s. Guarded and reserved. Quiet to the point she hardly added input during times the Cullen’s faced conflict. Always glued to a corner, hidden from the shadows. One glare was enough to send goosebumps along Bella’s arm. Understanding it’d be better to either not know Y/n’s story all together or silently hope one of the Cullen’s would tell her. Since it was obvious the vampire was going to keep her secrets to herself.

Well….she was hoping to.

“We can’t watch it here,” Edward’s voice was serious. More serious than ever, causing confusion to etch Bella’s face, taking the DVD case from Edward with a frown. It was a movie she’d seen a handful of times, a classic and one she thoroughly enjoyed whenever it played on TV. The only reason she was suggesting it now for their weekly movie night was for an assignment her history teacher gave on the historical event it was based on considering the upcoming anniversary was the following week.

“Don’t tell me you don’t have a DVD player.”

“I do,” he rolls his eyes, yet still carries the serious strain of his tone “but we can’t watch that here. We’ll go to your place.”

Her frown deepened, a little annoyed with the vampire changing their plans considering she drove all the way out to his. “I don’t understand, Edward….why is it so much of a big deal to watch Titanic here.”

Lightening fast, Edward held a hand up, freezing the two in their places while Bella watched him turn his head to face the open doorway. Tilting it slightly as though to strain his hearing. When it appeared whatever coast was clear, he let out a breath of relief before facing her again, noting her visible confusion. “I’ll explain everything once we get to your house. I promise just…” he pleads with his eyes, gently taking the DVD once again to tap at the title Titanic with his finger, “don’t mention this when we’re here or in front of my family.”

The entire drive was quiet. Save for the soft remedy of the radio. The music gave Bella the distraction she needed to not say anything about what took place in Edward’s bedroom until they reached her house. All the while she replayed the moment in her head, followed by how eerie the Cullen house became right after the famous ship’s name spilled from her lips.

Titanic.

“You wanna tell me what that was about?” She did not hesitate the second they entered, hanging her coat on the hanger and moving past him to set up the DVD player. She heard his sigh, igniting her annoyance, “you promised me an explanation.”

She felt his presence behind her, then a second later Edward kneeled to her level and took the DVD once more.

“You once asked me about Y/n,” he began, eyes lowered to the ground, “What her story was and how she was the first to join Carlisle” Gold met brown, his gaze shifting upward, while holding the disk cover up. “This isn’t just a movie, Bella. Not to her.” Heart pounding, Bella felt the air catch in her throat, realizing his implication.

It’s her life.

“You’re saying…” She glanced at the cover. The iconic image of Leonardo DiCaprio and Kate Winslet as Jack and Rose. The love story that ended in tragedy. Bella’s heart skipped at Edward’s nod.

“She lived it.” The air caught in Bella’s throat as the words left his mouth. “Y/n was on Titanic the night it sank--where she was turned by a vampire who wanted access to her family’s fortune.”

“Family’s fortune?” Bella was processing multiple things at once.

She was getting Y/n’s backstory she’d been curious about for over a year.

The vampire was aboard the famous ship which sank nearly a century prior.

Y/n apparently came from a wealthy family.

It was a lot to take in.

Edward placed the disk in the compartment, pressing the button to turn on the tv. “Her family were first-class passengers.” He began to explain, “Her father was the co-owner of the Brooklyn Dodgers and her mother was the daughter of a wealthy banker who happened to be a popular socialite among their class. Y/n was privately educated, and set to study literature at NYU.”

“Wow,” Bella exhaled, taking in the information. The screen had projected the main menu but neither were focused on it.

Discovering Y/n wanted to pursue literature was no surprise. From the massive book collection in the Cullen’s library which Edward said belonged to her, to the phenomenal school papers Bella had read in their English class during their peer review sessions, she knew Y/n was a gifted writer and storyteller. She made the simplest of words feel powerful. Brought scenes to life in the reader’s mind.

Then there was the tiny detail that Edward made a comment months back saying Y/n had published several books under pseudonyms.

He won’t admit it, but Bella’s fairly certain Y/n wrote one of the books on their summer reading list. The suspicion formed when she caught him sending his sister a knowing look after the sheet was passed out. When she looked at Y/n, Bella noticed her amused smirk, followed by a chuckle as she winked at her brother.

“I-I don’t--,” she had trouble putting the words together, flushing red. “I can’t imagine….”

Edward nodded, understanding what she was trying to say. “Talking about our past is hard for all of us. But for Y/n, it doesn’t help that every history class talks about it.” He lifts up the DVD cover, “or that Hollywood continues to make shows and movies.”

Bella wanted to ask more questions but understood it wasn’t the time. She knew if she wanted more information, she was going to have to gather the courage to ask Y/n herself. A task easier said than done when the vampire had barely warmed up to the human since implanting herself in their lives.

They settled on the couch and pressed play, but Bella’s attention was far from the film. Her mind drifted to Y/n. Thinking about her as each scene played out to the point Bella started to picture Y/n in Rose’s place. It brought chills to her arms, shuddering as she couldn’t help but wonder what it was like in those final moments as the ship sank.

When the movie ended, Bella said goodbye to Edward and began her assignment. Again, she was distracted. Feeling off as she searched online for sources about Titanic and watched video clips of survivors.

Eventually, after contemplating for over an hour, Bella picked up the phone off the receiver and dialed the number. It rang three times before the familiar voice with a slight transatlantic accent spoke through.

“I’ve been waiting for your call.”

Bella silently cursed, face and neck turning red as she cleared her throat before replying, “Can you come over? I’d like to talk to you.”

20 minutes later, Bella and Y/n sat across from each other in her kitchen. Notebook in front of her, cup of juice on the table and pencil in hand while Y/n’s were folded in her lap. To Bella’s surprise, the vampire knew exactly why she had called her, for Alice had seen it that morning and warned Y/n.

‘So much for easing my way into this,’ Bella thought to herself.

“We don’t have to do this if you don’t want to,” She nervously said, fiddling with the pencil in her hand. Y/n gave her a soft smile in hopes of easing the poor girl.

“Bella, if I didn’t want to do this I would have said so over the phone.”

“I know but…” she cringes slightly, more embarrassed with herself than anything. “This is your history. And I feel like I invaded your privacy by making Edward tell me why we couldn’t watch the film at your house.”

“You didn’t make him tell you anything,” Y/n’s words shocked her, Bella tilting her head in confusion. “Edward made a promise, and you were ensuring he lived up to it. I can understand given the way he behaved and made you clueless as to what the issue was. Granted,” Y/n paused, shuffling in her seat, “I would have rather you simply came to me, but I realize my part in why you refrained all these months since you got together.”

‘Avoiding you like the plague,’ as one would say.

Y/n put her folded hands on the table, nodding to the notebook. “How would you like to start?”

Bella straightened in her chair, bringing the notebook closer as she opened it to remove the paper listing the assignment. She skimmed over it, brows pinched, “Um, it says I have the option to write an essay on media--documentaries, movies, tv specials--about the event. Research and write a biographical report on a famous passenger. Or….” her teeth sunk into her bottom lip, peering at Y/n over the paper. “Interview a survivor.”

Y/n hummed, elbows propped on the table to rest her chin on her folded hands. “And which option are you leaning toward?”

A frown made its way on Bella’s face, shrugging lightly as she placed the sheet back down. “Honestly I’m not sure. I’ve watched the movie and a couple documentaries. Read a memoir from a survivor and searched about a few passengers on the internet.”

“Well my advice,” Y/n mused, shifting her arms down so they were crossed but still leaning on the table. “Options one and two are your best bet. Unfortunately the last remaining survivor, besides myself,” she paused briefly with a strained smile, “lives all the way in England. She’s I believe 94, and was only two months old when she was aboard. Frankly I do not understand why our teacher would have that option on the assignment.” Leaning back in her chair she let out a sigh before giving the girl a knowing look. “But Bella, you and I both know you don’t really need my help on this assignment.”

Heat rushed to her cheeks, making Bella’s pale face turn red as a tomato. Of course Y/n wasn’t going to buy her excuse of helping with homework. And there was no point in denying it. “I’m sorry. I didn’t really know how to approach the subject.”

“You could’ve just asked,” Y/n teased, but waved a hand dismissively and huffed. “Again. I’m to blame for why you didn’t.” Straightening her already perfect posture, Y/n tugged at the sleeve of her turtleneck and got serious. Taking a moment before speaking as though she were preparing herself. “You want to know my story and I’ll tell you, but you have to understand that it is not like how you see in the movies. My experience,” a faint look reached her eyes. “Was very different.”

Bella swallowed thickly, closing her notebook and pushing it away. Giving Y/n her full attention. “I understand.”

“What all did Edward tell you?”

“That you were on the Titanic when it sank. Your family came from wealth, and you were targeted by a vampire who snuck on who wanted access to that.” Bella saw the way Y/n’s breath hitched, stiffening but quickly recovered herself. Making the girl mentally curse herself for possibly overstepping.

“Okay. That at least gives me some insight on where to begin.” Clearing her throat, Y/n reached into her satchel and removed a silver metal tin. It was in great condition despite evidently being from the 1910s. “Do you mind?”

The question confused Bella, who didn’t know how to respond until her gaze landed on the now open tin, revealing five pristine cigarettes on either side. “Oh,” her eyes widened in surprise. Not sure how to respond since this was new information to her. Instantly questions popped in her mind. ‘Can vampires even smoke?’ ‘Does anyone else in the Cullens smoke?’ ‘How does that work?’

Bella shrugged, “my dad smokes cigars in the living room at times. And my step-dad is a smoker so I don’t mind, help yourself. Whatever makes you comfortable.”

“Thanks,” Y/n plucked one from the tin, placing it between her lips before looking in her bag again to fish for her lighter. “You know, it pleases me that there are still some cigarettes from my time available. These are Camels,” she gestured at them with one hand while the other pulled out the lighter. It matched the tin. Silver, vintage, and in pristine condition. “I preferred Fatima’s back then, but these will have to do. I hate Malboro’s,” her thumb flicked the lighter open, the flame igniting.

“Never tried them,” Bella commented with a small smile. Frankly she was quite stunned with how Y/n was speaking to her as though they had been friends for decades. Just telling her the favorite cigarettes she used to smoke gave a little insight into her past.

Bella pictured the young woman on the terrace of a New York cafe, cigarette in hand with a martini in the other while gossiping to her friends of the latest scandals within their socialite circle. Pearls around her neck, diamonds on her ears. Standing in the powder room with said friends to reapply her rough lipstick and adjust whatever pillbox hat she chose to wear that day.

Thinking of what Y/n’s life might have been before becoming a vampire saddened Bella. The possibilities, the opportunities. Would she have married and have children? Would she have gone on to do great things?

“It doesn’t do anything to me, obviously.” Y/n explained, bringing the flame to the filter. The glow of it made her golden eyes brighten in color. Once lit, she flicked the lighter off and tossed it and the tin back into her satchel. Bella stared at Y/n with fascination as she inhaled deeply before tilting her head back to blow out a thick cloud of smoke. “But it makes me feel….human. I used to do it so much that having one in my hand became second nature. It was common for the times. Plus the taste of it reminds me of bitter coffee,” That distant look in her eyes returned, but was then replaced by annoyance, “Carlisle hates it--as does Esme but they tolerate it so long I do it on the terrace. Emmett and Rosalie will indulge me by partaking to get under their skin,” a light chuckle leaves her lips, taking another drag. “The others say nothing. As I said, it doesn’t affect us.”

Bella laughed under breath, “Honestly I can’t see Edward smoking.” Picturing it felt foreign, and Bella wondered if he had before turning.

Y/n laughed with her. “I’ve tried tempting him, but he never breaks. Still tries to use the excuse that it is a bad habit.” Y/n scoffs, “believe me, I know. He just hates the smell of it--enhanced senses to blame for that.” Blowing smoke out, Y/n finished with, “Alright, enough of my bad habit.”

Y/n began to take Bella back to April 10th, 1912. To the day she and her family boarded Titanic to set sail to New York from Southampton, England. “Before they were the Los Angeles Dodgers, they were the Brooklyn Dodgers. And before that, they were the Brooklyn Superbas. My father co-founded and owned the team in 1883 as the Brooklyn Grays prior to all the name changes and eventual move. His father,” she took out a small antique ashtray from the satchel, tapping off the ash from the filter. “had accumulated wealth after hitting big during the Gold Rush. My father then used his part of the inheritance to go into business with Charles Byrne, Joseph Doyle, and Ferdinand Abell.”

Now it made sense for Bella why whenever the Cullen’s played baseball Y/n sported Dodger merchandise and would find her watching the team play on T.V during the season. She also was a fan of the Brooklyn Mets, but not as enthusiastic as she was with the Dodgers. Not to mention the intense rivalry with Edward for his love of the Chicago Cubs.

“Now you know how my family’s fortune came to be,” Y/n waved the smoke she released away, “and as you can imagine, he was friends with some very rich, influential people in New York. The whole reason we were in England to begin with was to attend the wedding of one of those people. As for Titanic,” she swallowed the imaginary bile in her throat. “He wanted to have the ability to tell everyone that he and his family were amongst the ship's first passengers. To brag or whatever--I don’t really know. But it happened that the wedding took place around the time she was set to set sail to New York. Extending our trip to last three weeks instead of the two we planned. All because he managed to snag the tickets by talking to the right people at the right time…..”

“I do not understand why we couldn’t have left on the Lusitania last week,” Y/n complained as the car neared the boarding docks. Trying to peer out the window but was annoyed by the crowd of people taking up every inch of the pavements, making their journey last longer than planned. “We’ve taken the liner twice now--surely it would have been up to satisfaction. We’ve had no trouble traveling on it--why go through the hassle of staying a whole week longer just to be on this ship, father?”

Not looking up from the newspaper in his hands, Y/n’s father sighed and shook his head. Irritated by her complaining as she had yet to stop since he told her the news. “Because, daughter, this is no ordinary ship. The White Star Line has spent years crafting the perfect vessel for the sea and we are in an extraordinary position to be able to be amongst the first passengers aboard. How could you not be excited by that?”

Y/n secured her coat tighter around her shoulders, frowning while keeping her gaze on the scene outside. “Forgive me for not being comfortable at boarding a ship that is set to make its first voyage across the Atlantic.”

“Oh for heaven’s sake, Y/n. There is no need to be dramatic and consume yourself with worry. The White Star Line has assured Titanic passed every safety precaution and is unsinkable.”

That did nothing to lift her unease, “Is that not what they said about the Tayleur? It sank three days into its maiden voyage?!” Her father grumbled, closing his paper to fold and place in his lap.

“That was over fifty years ago. Times have changed. Technology has changed.” His hand waved dismissively, “That ship was doomed from the start despite what the papers make of it. Look, it would be foolish of them to not have learned from their mistakes. I’m telling you there is nothing to worry about.”

“But that feeling never left me,” Y/n put out the cigarette, blowing out the last bit of smoke. “Even after meeting the crew and the captain, there was an odd heaviness in my stomach. Telling me that something would happen. No matter what I did to distract myself--whether that be playing cards or chatting with other young girls my age aboard, thinking about my fiancé back in New York….it never left my mind.”

Bella let out a gasp, eyes widening at the revelation, “Fiancé?” At the vampire’s nod, Bella felt her heartbreak.

“Alexander Mason,” there was an airiness when Y/n exhaled, reminiscing at the memory of her lost love. “His father was a real estate mogul and big fan of the Dodgers. Our fathers met at a banquet, not long after they were invited to watch a game from our private viewing box and introduced us. Alex was a doll,” Another cigarette was lit, the woman shifting in her chair. “Handsome, intelligent. Beautiful eyes you could get lost in. Had a sharp tongue but a quick wit. I honestly wanted nothing to do with him,” Y/n chuckled at Bella’s gaped expression. “He talked my ear off that night.”

“And that was a bad thing?” Bella giggled.

“No,” Y/n defended, her own smile threatening to peek through. “It’s not a bad thing. It was just….odd. Took me off guard--especially because the conversation was centered around me. Which--,” her finger not holding the cigarette lifted up for emphasis, “most men in the 1900s of that class were not interested in the hobbies and interests of women. They desired a wife who would be a shiny doll to hang off their arm and keep the house in order.” The cigarette went between her lips.

“I was not like that. I had dreams. Aspirations. I wanted to go to school, become a writer, and maybe see a little of the world before settling down.” The small, albeit sad, smile appeared. “He supported me--encouraged it actually. Then after several dates I was smitten. Alex was the first man to whisk me off my feet and make me believe there were truly good people out there. He was so sweet. So kind. Loving.” If her heart could beat, Y/n was sure it would have died on its own from being broken. “I knew I’d never find another like him. Which is why I said yes to marrying him after four months of courting. Under the condition we’d wait until I completed university--we were seventeen after all and the idea of marrying that young, despite it being common, unnerved me.”

“And he was okay with that?”

“He was. He agreed that it was too soon to get married, but he told me he’d rather refer to me as his fiancée than telling people we were going steady.” It was then Y/n peered down at her left hand. Bella followed her gaze, landing on the dainty diamond ring on the finger reserved for when one commits their life and love for another person until death do them part. Realizing what the ring was, and seeing how she never saw Y/n without it, Bella felt her eyes water.

“Is that…?”

“Yes.”

“It’s beautiful,” it truly was. Timeless and the type of ring that belonged on display in an antique museum. It suited Y/n.

“Thank you,” she beamed, lifting her hand up to inspect it. “His words when he proposed was he saw the ring and it reminded him of the way my eyes sparkled when I laughed.” Y/n tightened her lips, emotion flooding her. “Little did he know the only time I genuinely laughed was with him. He was the reason for that sparkle.”

A pregnant pause fell over the two. Y/n shuddering as she blinked away the tears that would never fall. God if there was one thing from her human days she wished she still had, it was the ability to cry.

“What happened to him? If you don’t mind me asking,” Bella’s tone was gentle, hand nudging slightly forward as if to offer Y/n comfort.

“He lived a long life,” Y/n resumed smoking, though the sadness never left her tone and her gaze remained on her ring. “I watched over him for many years--even after joining Carlisle. He can attest to the weekends I’d go missing and return with a tortured presence.” The heaviness in her chest heightened, she quickly reverted the story back to Titanic knowing at some point Bella would ask more about her relationship.

“Anyways, we boarded Titanic the morning of April tenth and I kept to myself most of the time. If I wasn’t in my suite, I read in the lounge or sat on the deck drinking tea. Played cards with wives and daughters in first class. Chatted with the crew whenever I had questions.” Y/n inhaled sharply, eyes turning narrow. “It wasn’t just the ship I was worried about--Twas the main reason for my anxiety, yes, but there was a sense that I was being watched. You know the feeling?”

Bella nodded, heat rising to her pale cheeks as she thought back to the first weeks she lived in Forks and first met Edward. Even when she could not physically see him, the feeling she was being watched hovered over her. Then of course the incident with James, and now with Victoria still out there, Bella kept looking over her shoulder believing she’d catch a glimpse of red hair. “I know it quite well.”

“Then you know it brings the hairs on the back of your neck up,” Y/n snarls, clutching her fists together. “And it is frustrating because you feel as though you are going crazy scanning your surroundings every second hoping to find the one responsible.” Unclenching she shook her head and took a deep drag of the cigarette. Letting the nicotine, a placebo to her, linger in her system before releasing. “The entire time on that ship I knew I was being watched. On the deck--in the lounge--in the ballroom, God, on my way to the powder room, I felt like a deer being hunted. My father dismissed my concerns, naturally, because I had no evidence of this faceless individual stalking me aboard. My mother, God rest her soul, at least listened and advised me to not wander on my own after nightfall.”

“I’m assuming this faceless individual is the vampire who…” Bella trailed off nervously, her suspicions confirmed by the firm nod she received. “Who was he?” This time she got a scoff.

“To this day I’m unsure if the name he gave me was in fact his real one. Hours prior to the sinking he introduced himself to me--Called himself Arthur Deveroux. Said he was an investment broker out of London.” The sneer returned on her visage. “And that he was on his way to New York to do business with Rockerfeller. I’d never heard of him, and to this day the name Arthur Deveroux is not on the list of first class passengers aboard Titanic. He was a stowaway,” Y/n explained with a grimace. “Snuck on minutes before the ship departed Southampton and imposed as a member of London’s elite. In reality, Arthur--or whatever his true name was--was a man who’s greatest power was the ability to deceive.”

A chill ran down Bella’s spine. Enough to make her shift in her seat. It wasn’t hard to picture the kind of man Arthur was based on the fury laced in the vampire’s tone. And as Y/n relayed the story of the night she met her creator, Bella felt as though she were there with her.

“What did you say your name was again?” Y/n’s brows pinched, observing the man with skepticism as she removed her hand from his after he’d taken it to kiss her knuckles. Just before he approached her at the table where she had been retrieving a plate of custard for her mother, that inkling of being watched had pooled in her stomach. Sending off alarm bells when she turned to find a beautiful man appearing not much older than her with the most unusual eye color.

Red. Deep like the rouge lipstick she wore. The sight of them made her take a cautious step back.

“Arthur Deveroux, madam.” Never had she heard a voice like him. Smooth and echoey. Unique and the type one would hear singing on the radio. Or beckoning prey out to sea.

“Arthur,” Y/n repeated, scanning his physique which was donned in a crisp suit. Matching the men around them present for dinner. “You’re from England I assume? What brings you to New York?”

“Business. My company hopes to collaborate with Mr. Rockerfeller.”

“Fascinating,” she wasn’t really. Many men attempted to get their hooks into the millionaire and turned up short. Y/n thanked the waiter handing her a martini, taking a sip while eyeing Arthur, who declined the waiter’s offer of making him a drink. “How come I have not seen you before tonight, Mr. Deveroux? Are you not one to mingle?”

His chuckle sounded like wind chimes. “I’m afraid not. I tend to stick to the walls during these gatherings and observe. The people here are far too ostentatious for my liking.” If he’d been anyone else Y/n would laugh. Agreeing with the statement. But something about Arthur screamed that he was hiding something.

“Well, do enjoy yourself these last days Mr. Deveroux.” She began to excuse herself, sneaking a glance to her table to find her parents watching the scene. “I hope New York is up to your standards.”

The smirk that appeared sent goosebumps along Y/n’s arm. And not the good kind she’d get when Alex looked at her. Everything about the expression was eerie. As though Arthur was calculating an idea--and Y/n was at the center of it.

“I believe you might be right, Y/n. I think New York is going to be everything I envisioned.” Taking her hand once more, Arthur’s smirk never left as he felt her shudder at the touch. Cold lips pressing to her knuckles. “Perhaps we’ll see each other there.” Before she had the chance to reply, Arthur backed away slowly then turned on his heel. Striding toward the exit amongst a sea of guests, and Y/n let out the sigh of relief she’d been holding.

When he disappeared from her view, Y/n realized she’d never given him her name.

As it came time to recall the final minutes of her humanity, Y/n was on her fourth cigarette and the golden color of her eyes had dimmed. Bella’s heart skipped and she swore to herself knowing Y/n heard it. The last thing she wanted was to dishearten the young woman further.

“I’d got separated from my parents during the initial chaos,” her voice was barely over a murmur. Gaze fixated on the surface of the table. “Titanic had just struck the iceberg and the impact woke me up. My parents went to the deck for information and I was trying to find them when I was suddenly pulled into a storage closet by a force so strong I remember it knocking me off my feet. Dragging me into the darkness. I couldn’t see and the grip on me prevented me from moving--I let out a scream but then a hand covered my mouth causing me to freeze. That’s when I heard his voice.”

“I’m sorry it had to be this way, Y/n.” his icy mouth caressed the side of her ear. Y/n whimpered against the rock solid hand holding her still. “I’d hoped to continue our conversation in New York, but it appears this ship will not be arriving. Now I have to improvise, but rest assured….this will only hurt for a little while.” And before Y/n could react, a pinch on her neck turned to a searing, excruciating pain that exploded in every cell in her body as Arthur sank his teeth into her skin.

Ensuring Y/n L/n was listed among those lost at sea when Titanic greeted the bottom of the Atlantic on the early morning of April 15th, 1912. Her name missing from the list of survivors recovered on the RMS Carpathia. To the world, the beautiful young socialite died along with the thousands Titanic took with her. Never knowing she was reborn into a creature of the night, destined to walk the Earth for eternity as a living reminder of the ship of dreams that was believed to never meet her end.

“By the time I awoke Titanic was all but a memory. A blur. He kept me in that closet for most of the transformation as the ship took on water. Slowly descending further and further into the icy waters of the Atlantic,” Y/n finished the last of her cigarette, putting the nub out and curling her hands into her elbows. “I heard everything. The screams. The cries. Women and children saying goodbye to their fathers. The violins from the band who refused to stop playing.” The melody filled her ears, bringing Y/n back in time. “I focused on the music. Ironically enough, it brought comfort despite the chaos unfolding and served as a distraction for the torment I was going through. Mentally and physically.”

Bella wiped away a tear with a sniff but she remained quiet.

“When the upper deck flooded, that's when Arthur moved us. Edward might have told you before that when a vampire bites a human, the amount of time it takes for the venom to course through all depends on where they bite them.” Bella nodded slowly, remembering the conversation from when she first went to the Cullen’s home and he told her that Carlisle suffered for days during the transformation because he was bitten on the hand. For Y/n, Arthur bit her neck. Closer to the heart and therefore it would only take hours.

“I was nearing the end--and he knew that, but it was minutes before the ship would submerge and he did not want us to get stuck. He gathered me up, hauled me over his shoulder and made our escape. To everyone on board scrambling to stay afloat it looked like a man carrying his lover to safety. What they didn’t see, however,” Y/n paused briefly to gather her emotions. “Was Arthur throwing us off the railing on the opposite side and swimming away. For miles and miles in absolute darkness. Until we finally reached the shore.”

Bella pictured a newly turned Y/n dragged from the waters onto the sands of New York. Returning home as planned, but without a beating heart and newfound thirst for blood. Scared. Confused. One minute she’s aboard a sinking ship, the next she’s on land. Life stolen by a man with sinister intentions. Depriving her of the future with Alex she dreamed of.

“What happened next?” Bella carefully asked.

Y/n’s expression remained dejected, offering a light shrug. “Arthur kept me hidden for days. Forcing me to feed on innocent humans. The RMS Carpathia would be arriving in New York and he needed to confirm if my parents had survived so he could blackmail me into stealing my inheritance.” Pushing away from the table, Y/n gathered the ashtray and discarded the remains into the trash. Running it under the faucet before wiping it dry with a paper towel.

“What the bastard didn’t anticipate,” she said with a tone Bella couldn’t decipher, but it sent a wave of unease through her. “Was the level of rage I experienced when I finally got a hold of my mind. It’s easy for creators to manipulate newborn vampires, but they have to be precise and hope that the person does not remember what preceded the bite. Unfortunately for Arthur, I remembered everything.” Y/n returned to the table, tossing the ashtray in her satchel and Bella saw the darkened expression that had encased her. “And once I realized what he’d done to me…let’s just say Arthur should’ve thought twice about taking on a newborn vampire for the first time.”

Bella didn’t have to hear the words to know what Y/n was implying. Gulping as she muttered, “You destroyed him. Like Edward did to James.”

Their eyes locked, and Bella felt her breath hitch by the blankness in Y/n’s. “Does that bother you?”

“No,” there was no hesitation. How could Bella blame her for wanting revenge on the man who stole her life. Y/n deserved her revenge and from the sound of it, Arthur had never turned anyone prior to her. Leaving him unqualified for the intensity a newborn experiences adjusting to their new life.

Y/n would’ve been stronger. Faster. Combine that with rage and the taste for vengeance and Arthur was no match for her.

“Carlisle found me three months later--in July of 1912,” Y/n wrapped up the story, fiddling with the cuff of her sleeve before moving to play with her ring. “I knew immediately he was like me, but his eyes were different and I wanted--needed--to know what my future was like. Considering I didn’t really give Arthur the chance to explain,” A sheepish look came over her. “Carlisle had this aura, and I knew I could trust him.” A soft chuckle escapes her, “It’s funny, you know, my intuition never failed me when I was human. It was so strong even then and becoming this only enhanced it. Just look at how the entire time on Titanic I could not shake the feeling it wouldn’t reach America. Then Arthur….Carlisle believes it to be my gift and If I’m being honest I didn’t believe it myself until decades later.”

Bella instantly became curious, “What made you think otherwise?”

Y/n tensed, and the crushing expression replaced the somber one. Folded hands going in her lap, but her thumb still stroked the ring. “Remember how I said I used to watch over Alex?” Bella nodded slowly, chest tightening at the implication, followed by confirmation. “Well I always felt,” her left hand went to the part of her chest where her heart lay. Unmoving. “In here, beckoning me to be near him. That I needed to see him--even if it was for a split second. And so, for seventy years--,” Bella’s mouth parted with glistening eyes. Y/n mirrored her, but unlike Bella the tears wouldn’t fall. “I would go to him. Observing from afar of course I could never…get close.” Y/n squeezed her eyes shut, placing her hand back in her lap. “There were times he saw me.”

A gasp left Bella before she could stop it. “He did?”

“Yes,” Y/n murmur was more of a whimper, and Bella let the first tear fall. “I knew it was wrong, but I’d let our gaze lock. Then the second he blinked or turned I bolted. I know,” she huffed, “It was selfish of me. I hated myself because I was quite literally a ghost haunting him. But God I just needed to see his eyes--they were always my favorite thing about him.”

Y/n cleared her throat loudly, rubbing her arms as she gathered herself. She knew telling Bella about Alex her years watching over him would come to this moment, but nothing could prepare her for the pain surfacing within her.

“The uh--the last time I saw Alex was on his deathbed,” her eyes were closed but she heard Bella’s reaction. From the stutter of her heart to the sharp inhale. “In the days leading up everything felt off. I knew he was sick--he’d been for awhile, but I hoped he’d pull through like the other scares. This was different.” Her hand went back to her chest. “My intuition never failed me,” she let out a watery laugh, “and this time…it was warning the inevitable. Then Alice gave a look I’ll never forget, and I knew I needed to get to him as fast as I could.”

Bella couldn’t even imagine, just envisioning it made her heart sink into her stomach and throat dry up. Before she could ask the million dollar question, Y/n answered for her. “I got to say goodbye. It’s what Alex deserved. After everything I put him through he deserved to have closure.”

“Why did you never…?”

“Turn him?”

“Yeah,” Bella frowned, immediately regretting the question upon Y/n’s look of torment.

“Same reason why Edward has yet to turn you,” it was harsh and Y/n knew it. But Bella needed a wake up call, if she could be the one to deliver then so be it. Yet at the same time, Y/n finds it aggravating that Edward would put this much effort into a relationship with Bella to not turn her. With Alex, Y/n never pursued him and kept her distance for a reason. Yes, she tortured herself by constantly checking on him, but at least she committed to it.

A flash of hurt was evident on Bella, but she recovered as Y/n continued, “Alex lived a long life. Maybe not always happy, but he went on to do great things. He became an engineer, and dedicated his career to advancing ships for cross-Atlantic travel. Because he never wanted another disaster like Titanic to happen again,” a small smile curled up on her lips, a proud look in her eyes. “Eventually he married a nice woman, had a daughter, and three grandkids. Turning him would’ve taken that all away.”

Despite feeling broken-hearted for Y/n, Bella understood her reasoning, even though she herself desires becoming a vampire to be with Edward. Unlike Y/n, who sacrificed her chance at having her love with her to give him the ability to live a full life.

“Did you,” she bit her lip, leaning her elbows on the table after wiping a stray tear. “Did you at least get to talk to him? Before he died?”

Y/n was silent. Gaze drawn down to her lap where it focused on the diamond ring. And while her undead heart broke for the man she’d never see tending to his garden or placing fresh flowers on her ‘grave,’ ever again, Y/n smiled at knowing he was in a better place.

“I did.”

“I-I knew--I always knew,” the old man croaked in anguish as tears welled in his beautiful eyes that still held the color and sparkle they did when he was a seventeen-year-old boy. Now covered with wrinkles to match his withered skin and silver hair. He laid in a hospital attached to different machines, heart monitor picking up in pace at the rapid beat due to the emotions consuming him. But no matter his appearance, he was still the sweet, darling, Alexander Mason Y/n fell in love with all those years ago. “I-I saw you--after Carpathia docked I scoured the area for you.”

“I know you did,” Y/n whispered with agony. Grabbing his hands gently, making him gasp by how cold they were but he clutched them like a lifeline. Holding them to his chest because he feared that if he let go she’d disappear.

“They told me you were lost at sea,” the first tear fell, and Y/n felt a sob in the back of her throat. “They said you sank to the bottom and would never be recovered. They--they told me I was making it up--but I knew you were out there. I saw you.” He shook his head as more tears cascaded down his cheeks like a never ending waterfall. “I saw you at my graduation. At the cemetery when my mother died. At the docks when I left for France--when I was in France.” Y/n shuddered at the memory surfacing.

America had entered World War I and despite Alex coming from wealth where he easily could’ve dodged the draft, he enlisted and spent the year in Europe fighting. And the entire time Alex carried a photograph of Y/n in his pocket close to his heart. Removing it when he was about to go on the frontlines to take one last look at her face and press a kiss to the image. Men in his battalion often asked about the lady Alex held in his pocket, and each time they were met with shock and regret when he revealed she was on Titanic when it sank.

That was the longest time Y/n had been away from Carlisle. He advised her not to go as she did not know any of his friends that lived in Europe, but Y/n refused to be an ocean apart from Alex. Especially when there was the high chance he may never return home. No, she needed to be close to him. To ensure he was safe. Eventually when the war ended, and Alex was back in New York, Y/n tracked down Carlisle in Chicago. Discovering that during her departure he turned a 17-year-old boy dying of Spanish Influenza.

“I was there,” she breathed, confirming his statements as she stroked his hand and wrist. Aged skin contrasting with hers frozen in time. It pained her to see him like this. Pained her to have gone decades as a shadow in his life. Observing from afar while never drawing close.

“You were there,” He repeated with awe, the memories of each occurrence flooding his mind. She wasn’t a figment of his imagination, conjured by his grief. She was real. “At the docks.” Y/n nodded. “At the hotel opening.” Another nod, this time slower. “At my wedding.”

Y/n couldn’t take it anymore. Her head dropped between her shoulders, leaning forward to press her forehead against their conjoined hands. The tearless sob released, echoing along the walls and hitting her straight in the chest. Her undead heart breaking into pieces. “I’m so sorry, Alex. I am so so sorry. Please forgive me--I couldn’t come to you no--no matter how much my soul begged for me to put an end to the suffering.”

“What happened out there, my darling?” He brought her attention back to him. Not wanting to go another second without looking at her face. The beautiful face he fell in love with as a boy. The face that haunted his dreams. That he swore he saw on a crowded street and when he looked out his window on every birthday and anniversary that passed. The face he thought of when fighting for is life in France--praying he’ll see when he was called to the heavens.

Now that face was in front of him after decades of mourning. When people called him crazy for always believing Y/n to be alive and forced to hide away. “You’re still as beautiful as the day I lost you.” One hand let go of hers to caress her cheek, wrinkled thumb stroking the area below her eyes. “Except your eyes have changed. They’re not the color they were when you left New York.” His hand rested on top of hers, still perched on his chest right by his heart. “But nonetheless, still beautiful.”

Y/n swallowed thickly, trying to find the right words to say but none of them seemed appropriate. “You remember all those stories of creatures in the night we used to read about that our parents said were incongruous?” His nod was slow, but attentive.

“Like Dracula?”

“Yes,” Y/n choked out a laugh, “Like Dracula. Turns out all those stories are not fairy tales.” His sharp intake filled her ears.

“Are you saying…?” This time Y/n was the one to nod. “Good Heavens. You--you are a--.” She shook her head roughly, not wanting to hear him say the word.

“I’m not the same I was when I left for England all those years ago. There are things--dark things, that exist in the world, and unfortunately I’m one of those.”

Alex rescinded her words, “No. I don’t believe that for a second.”

“It’s true, darling.”

“You might have different eyes, but you’ll always be my Y/n. You’ve been my guardian angel all these years. Any--anytime I felt lost, you were there. Anytime I-I felt like I was forgetting your face, there it was in the distance.”

Y/n let out a pained sound, but it was so soft Alex couldn’t hear it. His words struck her. Like lightning hitting a tree. How could he still have devotion to her after all the suffering she put him through.

“You still wear it?” He brought her attention to their hands, where his frail finger traced the ring. “After all this time?”

Y/n stared at him with absolute love, “I’ve never once taken it off.” Bringing his hand to hers, she kissed his weathered skin. “And I never will.” For a moment they just sat there. Staring at each other while the beep of the monitor filled the room. Getting slower and slower to the point Y/n felt herself starting to crumble. “I’m breaking all the rules coming here,” she eventually said, wanting to hear his voice until the inevitable arrived.

“Rules?”

“Things in this life are not so different from yours. There are rules to follow and the reason why I had to stay away from you. It would’ve put you in danger--and I couldn’t let that happen.” Alice assured Y/n her visit with Alex would remain hidden from the Volturi, but part of her still worried. Thankfully her intuition wasn’t screaming at her, otherwise the situation would be different.

“Will you get in trouble if you’re caught?”

“Yes. But I don’t want you worrying about that. Alright?”

“Does anyone know you’re here?” The fact Alex was concerned made her smile.

“The man who took me in does--and the family he and I found along the way.” One of her hands came up to brush away a silver hair that had fallen in front of his eyes. “He found me shortly after I…became this. He knows I would've moved mountains and fought my way through anyone who got in my way to prevent me from being here with you.”

Alex sighed, eyes fluttering shut as they fought against the sleep his body desperately craved. Y/n saw it too, and the look of anguish overcoming her made Alex understand why she waited until now to make an appearance.

“This is it, isn’t it.” Not a question, a statement.

“Yes,” she whimpered, scooting closer so she was sitting beside his torso rather than his legs. Leaning into his space as he kept her palms pressed to his slowing heart.

His smile was gentle, “I guess I should find some solace. Dying with the last thing I’ll see being the love of my life I lost a lifetime ago.” Another groan left her. “I always regretted not coming with you to England. That damn Yale interview.”

“I’m grateful you didn’t,” she defended, tone serious as though appalled by his confession. “Had you who’s to say we would’ve made it on a lifeboat. And if they refused to let you on, I would’ve leaped off.” The chances of him surviving would’ve been slim. The lifeboats took women and children first and therefore the majority of those who died aboard Titanic were men. Including Y/n’s father. “You would’ve never done the amazing things you accomplished, Alex. You would’ve never got your Nobel Prize--or had your family.”

A sigh left him, knowing she was right, and another wave of tears fell as he whispered, “I would’ve joined you.” He would’ve become a vampire for her. Traded in his future of living to remain unmoving in time with her.

It devastated her. “I know you would have,” her bottom lip trembled, “But Alex, you deserved to live. You deserved to do all those great things. You’ve embedded your name in history--thanks to you, there hasn’t been a commercial passenger ship to sink in seventy years.”

Alex let out a snuffle, “I didn’t want--I didn’t want anyone to experience the pain I did. Losing you that way…I never recovered, Y/n.”

Now that destroyed her. Worse than she ever imagined. Y/n audibly reacted as the pain tightened and exploded in her chest. “Oh, Alex.”

“You’ll stay, right?” The monitor decreased in pace. Alex used what little strength his heart had left to stay alive to treasure the last moments the universe afforded him with Y/n. His time was coming, and he was ready, but he needed to see her face, hear her voice, and feel her touch, one last time. “You’ll be right here.”

Y/n leaned forward, holding her weight up but still keeping her body close to his. “I am not going anywhere,” She vowed, lacing their fingers together, pressing them into his chest so she could feel the light thump of his heart. “I’ll be right here every second.”

And Y/n did. She sat there, holding his hands until they went limp. The beeping decreased. Alex’s breathing turned into soft pants, eyes fluttering as the darkness beckoned him. The last thing he felt was cold lips pressed to his forehead, and the melody of her voice in her ears sending him off to the Heavens, “I love you, Alexander Mason, I will love you until the end of time. And when the day comes, I’ll meet you at the docks.”

April 14th, 2012

The Cullens stood together in silence as the cool wind breeze passed them and clouds drizzled light rain above. The smell of salt from the sea filled their senses, the sound of the waves crashing against the rocks, causing the boats docked to lightly sway.

Bella, now possessing golden eyes and skin so pale and cold, leaned into Edward’s side while brushing a hand down their daughter’s hair. Like her family, she remained silent as she watched her sister-in-law stand alone at the edge of the docking port. Staring ahead into the deep, quiet ocean.

In the middle of the night one hundred years prior and 1,300 miles away, the ship of dreams known as Titanic sank to the bottom of the Atlantic. Carrying 2,240 souls on her maiden voyage to New York, only 706 made it to their destination. The rest were lost to the sea.

Y/n L/n may have survived the sinking, but she died aboard Titanic. As the ‘unsinkable’ vessel took on water, her heart stopped. Never to beat again. Becoming frozen like the waters consuming them, she went on to outlive the 706 survivors rescued on the RMS Carpathia. The last one leaving the docks forever in 2009.

Flowers in her hand, with the same face that boarded Titanic, Y/n approached the edge of the dock. The wind breezed past her, stronger this time but she remained afoot. Crouching down so her knees hovered over the wood. And when she leaned over to stare at the water, the reflection of that 17-year-old passenger stared back at her.

With a shuddered breath, Y/n gently lowered the bouquet, watching as the current grasped the flowers, allowing them to drift away in the direction Titanic would have traveled when she reached her final destination.

Golden eyes followed the flowers as they grew smaller and smaller in the distance until Y/n barely made out the color. When it was gone from her vision, she tilted her head up to the sky, smiling at the sight of the sun breathing through the dense clouds.

They’d have to go indoors eventually, but Y/n rejoiced in the feeling that the universe was sending her a sign. They might be gone, but they are never forgotten. The people we love are always watching over us. Sometimes it’ll feel like a gentle touch to the shoulder. Or comes as a whisper. Or in a crowded room you might find their face.

However it may come, they are always there.

And as Y/n began to stand, wind picking up once more, she felt the caress of a hand on her shoulder, a gentle murmur filling her ears.

“I’ll always wait for you at the docks.”

#Spotify #twilight fanfiction #twilight imagine #twilight fluff #the twilight saga #titanic au #titanic imagine #titanic fanfiction #edward cullen x platonic!reader #bella swan x platonic!reader #bella swan imagine #cullen!reader #vampire!reader #twilight angst #twilight au

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talxns · 4 months ago

Note

Just for a little bit of fun, what are your favourite Bruce and Dick interactions in canon?

Ooh! Okay yeah! Sorry the order is going to be pretty random, spanning across many comics and continuities.

Performing trapeze together in Batman/Superman: World’s Finest #6, how legendary!

Nightwing 2006 #117, Bruce admonishing Dick over his suicidal behavior. The angry face grab is great.

Forever Evil #6 when Dick is in the murder machine, that face caress, the way Bruce goes insane when Luthor stops Dick’s heart.

Dick touching all over Bruce in Nightwing #89 (2022). I just like how he can just poke and prod and pull on Bruce

The confrontation scene from Batman #416 ! Bruce unmasking and being painfully vulnerable about his reason for taking Jason in.

Can’t have a best-of-Bruce and Dick-interactions list without the classic from Batman (2011) #11

BONUS GOLDEN AGE MENTIONS

just going to add 2 because i could make a whole other list of golden age interactions that i adore but it’s tiring to look up all the exact issue numbers lol so just a couple that i have saved

Batman (1940) #13, the whole story is gold but the very end when Bruce reveals he’s been holding onto Robin’s photo the entire time he’s been working alone!?

Batman (1940) #21 Bruce tearfully consoling Dick after he’d been drugged and on the brink of death, just a very sweet panel of them holding each other.

#bruce wayne #dick grayson #would have added the entirety of Bloodborne but since Bruce is unconscious for most of it i didn’t think it was an interaction per se

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dokonicamarinealsocamronmoxley · 6 days ago

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still remember that cute golden age x homestar runner art request that i send to an artist to draw (IT'S SUPER SWEET)

#non-reblogs #homestar runner #golden age #2006 #golden age 2006 #the cheat #agere

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scotianostra · 6 months ago

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Thomas Sean Connery was born in the Fountainbridge area of Edinburgh on 25th August, 1930.

Big Tam, as he was affectionately known around Fountainbridge in his youth, well he was Tommy until his teens, when he shot up in height and stature, at one point he entered a bodybuilding contest, he was 6'2″ at the time, weighed around 14 stone, had a 48-inch chest, 25-inch thigh, and his arms were 15.25 inches.

His first job was as a milkman with the St Cuthbert’s Co-Operative Society in Edinburgh. I would think he would have delivered the milk on a horse drawn carriage, the stables for these horses was in the are he grew up, were in Grove Street, where I used to live the main offices for St Cuthbert’s still stands round the corner on Fountainbridge.

Connery also played football at junior level for Bonnyrigg Rose, my cousin played for them too for several years.

A few more facts about Sean are he has a tattoo on his arm that state “Scotland Forever” he got when he enrolled in the Merchant Navy, he was discharged from that job due to stomach ulcers, between jobs he was a nude model for art students at Edinburgh College of art, again not to far from Fountainbridge. Other jobs he took up were, a lorry driver, a lifeguard at Portobello swimming baths,a labourer and a coffin polisher!

I think it is interesting Connery never strayed far from Fountainbridge in his younger days, indeed when he decided that acting was a career he was going to pursue, it was the nearby Kings Theatre he got a job helping backstage, he was also competing in bodybuilding competitions at this time and while at an event in London he learned that there were auditions being held for South Pacific, he was picked to appear on the chorus line but as the production toured the country he was making his way up the ladder.

By the time it hit Edinburgh he had the part of Marine Cpl Hamilton Steeves and was understudying two of the juvenile leads, and his salary was raised from £12 to £14–10s a week, when the production was reprised the following year he had the lead role on the tour, taking over from the actor Larry Hagman, who played the part in London’s West End.

Connery never looked back from there and of course the role of James Bond catapulted him to international stardom, Ian Fleming though was against him getting the part initially, he said Sean was “unrefined” and not what he had in mind, Sean soon won him over though and Fleming later admitted he was an “ideal” Bond.

A few of the parts Sean either didn’t get or turned down are Gandalf, in the Lord of the Rings series of films, he said he never understood the books and also wasn’t keen on 18 months of filming in New Zealand. He also turned down the chance to play the role of the Architect in The Matrix Reloaded and The Matrix Revolutions. Sean was asked to portray King Edward I in Braveheart, but was too busy working on Another film at the time, Patrick McGoohan took the role instead, I’m sort of glad he never played Longshanks.

His 93rd and last film was 2003’s The League of Extraordinary Gentleman - although he officially retired in 2006, although he was temporarily tempted back to do the voice of Sir Billi in the animated adventure comedy of the same name.

Sir Sean Connery passed away in his sleep on 31st October 2020 at his home in the Bahamas, his son said he had been unwell for some time. The official cause of death was pneumonia, heart failure and old age, his death certificate revealed.

In a career spanning over 50 years, Connery earned an Academy Award, multiple Golden Globes, including the Cecil B. DeMille and Henrietta Awards, as well as two British Academy Film Awards (BAFTA) awards.

I've posted more pics than I normally would, firstly to show that Sean was much more than the first Bond, but also because the Scottish public, had and still have a big connection and love for the big guy.

Sean Connery 25th August 1930 – 31st October 2020.

#scotland #scottish #history #edinburgh #actor

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hypocrisyofandrewdobson · 22 days ago

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what is Lady in the Water, and why would Dobson like it?

Lady In the Water is a 2006 movie by M. Night Shyamalan in which an apartment owner discovers a water nymph(called a Narf in the film-yes, really) who needs to be protected from a wolf monster made of grass(called a Scrunt in the film-yes, really) so that she can inspire a writer. Shyamalan claimed it’s a fairy tale he made up for his kids.

What the film is ACTUALLY about is how M. Night Shyamalan, who plays the writer character in the movie, is so super talented and amazing at writing that his book will inspire a child to be President who leads the world into a golden age, but is so amazing that he(the writer) will be assassinated for his writing and ideas. It also features a character that is literally a strawman of all of Shamalamadingdong’s detractors and critics, called The Critic., who only exist to be shown how lame and stupid he is before being killed by the aforementioned grass wolf demon.

It’s one of the most self-indulgent, self-fellating nonsense movies you can imagine, so you can imagine why a movie about a super amazing “artist” looked down on by the evil smarmy critic would appeal to Dobson.

#andrew dobson #tom preston #lady in the water #m night shyamalan #adobsonartworks #adobsonart #ask #vicholocow

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bambitae · 1 month ago

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Sense and Sensibility: Prologue

➥ Synopsis: You reminisce about the summer of 2006, the time you were stranded in Santa Barbara with no company but your friend's stepfather, and the secret affair that had blossomed in the absence of the friend who had invited you to visit.

⇁ Pairing: Kim Seokjin x Female Reader (ft. Taehyung)

⇁ Genre: Drama, Angst, Smut, Age Gap!AU

⇁ 3.5k

⇁ Author's Note: this is finally done!! i've been working on this for a year and the prologue is finally done TT this work has seen me move six times before i was finally able to post it! i'm so excited! i hope you enjoy my blood, sweat, and tears and the 'call me by your name' influence left imprinted on me after finishing the novel - i am so happy that i could hug each one of you !!! ♡♡♡

“Well then.” The curt words, the bored sigh that came beforehand, the attitude.

You’d never heard someone use “well then” to say goodbye before. That’s what he’d told you on the day you met him, as he placed the one dented suitcase you’d brought before Maya’s bedroom door; a long, loud step back, bare foot slapping against the terracotta parquet. Then he disappeared down the high-ceiling hall, behind a potted palm, lustrous floor spidery with his own lanky, distorted shadow.

It is the first thing you remember about him, and you can still hear it today, “well then,” just the thought of it transporting you back to Santa Barbara, last summer, stepping out of the train to see him before the station, tan pillars rowed with arches and a flat, clay roof, colossal palm trees and the unclouded sky; and he, a stranger, with his billowy blue shirt, wide-open collar, opaque blazer limp on his arm, skin everywhere. Suddenly he’s shaking your hand, taking your suitcase, telling you Maya is staying a few days longer in Los Angeles with her aunt.

It may have started right there and then: the shirt, the rolled-up sleeves, aviator sunglasses gliding down his nose as he looked at a passing salaryman, palm up for a greeting.

The occurrence was a startling and gnarly one, and most of the ride to Riviera you remember by being terribly stiff and silent, perplexed whether you looked to the cigarette hung from his mouth or the soaring hillside through the window—the vistas of white stucco walls nestled in the mountains becoming closer and more tangible the farther you climbed up the twisty roads.

Stepfather you had known from the stories, the college friend who’d invited you there in another city: a strained scenario no matter which way you’d want to twist it.

You were a bit uncomfortable, after the diatribes you’d heard, having to do with his conceit and bestial cruelty toward Maya, and you were mad at her too for being too lazy to ring you and set you to arrive a few days after. You wondered, as the breeze mussed your hair and you squirmed on the burning seat, if you would even withstand those six long weeks you had promised her.

It was impossible in the first days you didn’t scorn and fear the stepfather a little bit, even as he drifted in and out of the house like a shadow, unobtrusive, remote from it for most of the day. Images conjured by Maya’s tales came alive every time you were in the same room as him, the first of many a tableau of him at the breakfast table: robed in velour, morning paper in hand, whipping you with a stare over the rim of his spectacles as soon as you stepped over the kitchen threshold.

Everything was similar to how you’d imagined it, the hostile air and white mug from Saks he began using after smashing his favorite in an argument they had, but instead of the silvery codger in your fantasies, senile and swivel-eyed, he was a man who couldn’t have been past thirty, slight in the face and alabaster skin stretched taut over his jaw and clavicle. Only at glimpses did it catch the golden Californian tan: a bit on his cheeks and forehead, over his jutting metacarpals and lithe fingers, on one of them a pale hoop you sometimes saw when his wedding ring slipped.

Looking back at that morning, the first breakfast you ate at his house and by far the most miserable, the worries plaguing you were vague and paranoid ones, spiraling like tentacles into the abysmal nothing. You remember eyeing the coffee he’d brewed to you, too afraid to ask where they kept sugar, and feeling like you’d made a terrible mistake when the jam slipped off your toast and made an ugly, crimson splotch on the china. When he’d apologized for not having a proper breakfast ready, “I don’t eat it myself, you see,” impersonal and hidden behind the text-condensed pages of The Wall Street Journal, your reassurance came much too quick and petrified, bubbling out of your mouth through a slew of unchewed bread.

Maya had made him out to be a brute, a tetchy old man; it was wise for you to be wary. For the whole meal, you thought of the broken mug, pitying Maya for having to call such a man her father.

Your spoon kept clanking against the plate. He put his mug in the exact same spot each time. Your legs touched once before he stood up and put his mug in the sink. Before he’d left for work, he told you smoking wasn’t allowed in the house, and he said it absently, looking at his watch, one foot already out the door.

Memories of the first time being alone in the hacienda are now murky, muddled with the sludge and sloth of forthcoming events, but the awe you felt exploring remains fresh. It was hard to believe you were in California, with the wood beams for a ceiling, endless archways for doors, the lord-like coastal view from the living room window.

Without having anything better to do, you meandered for most of the day, stopping to admire every painting hung on the white walls until an old Baroque piece beside the garden archway startled you. It was a Diego Velázquez, the portrait of little prince Baltasar on a horseback, and you knew selling your kidney wouldn’t have made you nearly enough to buy it.

“It’s a fake,” he had told you one morning, later, as he watched you gape at it from the patio. “But a good one. Even the slightest detail on the clouds are identical.”

“Have you ever seen the real one up close?” you asked as you studied the details on the plump horse, the billowing military sash wrapped around the boy’s chest.

“I have.” He was stubbing a cigarette, sinking into the embroidered pillows of the velvet-upholstered sofa. “It’s displayed in Prado.”

But you had already known that.

As it happened, he’d caught you on the patio, on the same sofa, when he came home that first day, curled up with a book you had stolen from his study, a cigarette in his mouth and tie so loose it bent clumsily to the side. He was much too sluggish for your apologetic fervor to faze him. “It’s alright,” he said and sat across from you in a wicker chair, dumping his blazer over the arm. “You must be bored.”

It may have even started then, with the way he lit his cigarette: good, bared forearms on his spread knees; eyebrows rumpled and smoke curling out his mouth.

“Have you called Maria?” he said after a time, and looked at you over the eyebrow.

“No,” you were stuttering, not having expected he would talk to you, “my phone has no credit.”

He dug into his pocket and fished out a cellphone, typing away on it as he blew smoke to the side. Afternoon sun streamed directly into his face, in such a strong light most people looked washed out, but his surly, angular features lit up with the warmth of near sun-down until it was a shock to look at him. He had leaned into the shadow of hacienda’s roof before you finished admiring him, eyes squinted as he handed you the phone with Maya’s contact on it.

“I’m sure you have a few things to talk about,” he’d told you and stubbed out his cigarette, and then he told you to ask if you ever needed the phone and, if he wasn’t there, to take the landline one in the hall, and with that he went into the house, not to be seen again until dinner. Even through the haze you can recall his curt murmur as he passed the prince Baltasar, “Well then.”

Prior to the first weekend in Riviera, the pictures arranged in your mind seem disjointed and hazy, but it is on that first Sunday when they come into razor sharp focus and he morphs from a discreet, eldritch figure floating through the hallways into a creature of flesh and blood, a real person with a beating heart. You too appear as somewhat of a stranger in these memories: gauche and oddly elusive because of all the anguish of being stranded in a foreign state and the chilling stories Maya had bashed into your head for the past year. It had taken you days to look him in the eye and speak without odd, wary pauses; and now all those times you had ducked into a room at the sound of his footsteps only embarrass you, especially because you now realize, long after the fact, that your attempts to evade him were far from discreet.

Maya’s stepfather didn’t appear to be the monster she had led you to believe, and only after the six weeks together and the long time after you parted, which you spent scrutinizing and obsessing over him, did you realize he too must have been frightened and bewildered, waiting for you to make the first move with hands folded on his lap, politely as a maiden aunt. You were an intruder in his house, a strange girl who seemingly had her mouth sewn and fell into long spells of staring directly at him. You were every bit of an anomaly to him as he was to you; an alien who was all of a sudden curling up on his patio and leaving breadcrumbs on his table in the mornings; a complete disruption. And still he had made every effort to host you until Maya came, despite not wielding any responsibility towards you.

After that first morning, the refrigerator had become plump with breakfast options and a warm pastry awaited you by the bread box after his early cigarette trips to the store, and it was often he recommended books, asked if you needed to use his phone, or otherwise apologized for Maya’s absence—something even she failed to do once you managed to get a hold of her. But all this he did with such a sour face, spoke in such an enervated monotone, that you were certain he only saw a huge bother in you. It was that first Saturday when this fear began to gradually dispel.

You had never realized, of course, that the hacienda would not be completely desolate on the weekends. You remember now, looking back, how on that first Saturday morning he was up and writing letters, not in his usual uniform but a pair of swimming trunks and a robe coming undone at the waist, and when you got downstairs, he was nearly finished and placing them into thick, cream-colored envelopes, a cigarette hanging at the corner of his mouth.

He swiftly plucked it upon noticing you in the doorway. “Don’t mind me,” he said; “this place should air out fine in a minute with all the windows this room has. Not that you should smoke inside just because you saw me doing it. The coffee and the hot dishes are on the sideboard, feel free to help yourself.” You said something about not minding the smoke, how all right with all of it you were, but he did not listen, he was looking down at a letter, frowning at something.

He didn’t seem to notice you, in fact, even when you sat across from him at the table, a little overawed at the brilliance of the breakfast presented to you: dishes of poached eggs, of bacon, and another of sausages and fried bread. There was tea in a grand porcelain tureen, and coffee, piping hot, in a similarly wonderful urn with two huntsmen in acryl, chasing after a deer. A cluster of grapes dangled from the dessert stand, surrounded by a ridiculous diversity of fruits—guavas and figs and pomegranate slices—but the tower paled in comparison to the one beside it, adorned from top to bottom with various cakes. It didn’t seem possible that he could prepare all of this by himself, and his disregard for the feast was perplexing. From the entire table he had taken only a cup of coffee for himself. And, it seemed, some grapes. The twigs lay barren on the saucer by his hand.

“Is today a celebration of some kind?” you said, unmoving at first, wary of bad manners. You didn’t know how hungry you were before you sat down.

But, “No,” he replied simply, unsheathing his pen. “It’s just a Saturday.”

It was strange to you to think that Maya, who back in Portland shared a dorm with you and bathed in communal showers, should sit down in her home on the hillside of American Riviera to a breakfast like this one, day after day, for her whole life probably, and find nothing absurd about it, nothing wasteful. You couldn’t fathom why she would enroll into a public university at all when she was accustomed to such banquets, but you now understood why she sometimes scrunched her nose at supermarkets and people dressed in secondhand, and were a little bit flurried.

You noticed he poured himself more coffee. You took a slice of ham. And you were afraid to wonder what would happen to all the rest, all that meat and fruits and the chocolate gateau, and the tea once it went cold. There were no menials in the house, no one to wait for the gift of breakfast other than the dustbins.

“Why even try to argue with a woman of such a feeble mind,” he said suddenly after a time, during which he wrote furiously, the paper all a sharp, messy hand. He set down his reading glasses, not looking you in the eye. He waited for you to raise your head. “It seems Maria is coming next Sunday, after all. She banged up her phone and lost her train ticket. Her aunt will drive her back here, and she’s not free until the weekend.”

The announcement startled you. “On Sunday?”

“If Maria’s aunt is to be trusted—and she’s not. I don’t understand why everything has to become so complicated.” He got up from his chair and lit a cigarette. “I’m sorry about this, I really am. You’ll have to make do for another week even though it’s uncomfortable.”

“It’s all right,” you said, sounding quite small. Suddenly your appetite was lost.

“I mean this very seriously.” He was looking out the window, into the courtyard and pool, at the indolent rose bushes swaying slightly in the wind. His robe was open now as he leaned on the windowsill. “She’s being extremely irresponsible, I can’t begin to imagine why she left you here all alone.”

“It’s all right,” you repeated. “Did she leave some sort of message for me maybe?”

He shook his head, a cigarette upon his lips. “If she did, her aunt omitted it.”

Neither of you said anything for a moment.

“So, what are you going to do?”

“Pardon?” Finally, you put down the heavy silverware.

“Are you going to wait for her until she comes?”

The question boggled you. Did he want you out of the house? But it would be a long way back to Oregon, and you had barely caught a glimpse of California. “If I’m not a burden on you,” you said, spineless.

He said nothing before coming to the table to put out his cigarette, the robe fluttering behind him. “Understood.” He took his papers, the conversation having seemingly left him sour. “Enjoy your meal.” Then he strode out into the hall, leaving you in the thick silence of the kitchen, alone among the plates of meat and dessert stands.

You tried not to be too curious, and after abandoning breakfast amused yourself with plans of taking a long walk to the East Beach, or reading, or even having a drink in West Mesa, on the terrace of a cafe with a good look at the ocean. It wasn’t until you were coming up to the bedroom to get dressed, sometime before noon, that you glanced through the window and realized he hadn’t left for work still.

Instead he lounged in the courtyard, along the edge of the pool, with his eyes closed and his back turned to you, and it startled you, what broad shoulders he had, the bare and wet skin, the slight quiver of muscles as he rested on both elbows, foot gently caressing the pool-water. For a moment he held it there, on the surface, unmoving, only to let it fall limp with a splash. Hair was sticking to his face; his swimming trunks clinging to the skin. Beside him lay his robe and his cigarette packet, as well as an empty glass, all scattered, and he seemed to care very little about the mess, instead tranquil, dreaming, slowly swaying backward as he soaked in the sun. He was a different person to the man writing letters in the morning.

For the first time it had struck you how handsome he was, and although you may have known this before, you were too afraid to think it. It would have been far more noticeable had his posture been less stiff or his gaze, behind the glasses, less shrewd. He looked almost young now as he stretched across the cantilever deck, younger than he already was, lingering for another moment before he dove into the water. There was a splash, a ripple. It all seemed very beautiful to you, how it danced and glittered in the sunlight.

You caught yourself by the window, peering at him from behind the curtains, and were promptly humiliated. You drew the curtains, the skin on your neck hot, and the back of your ears, and you didn’t know what to do with your hands or your feet or your reflection in the wardrobe mirror, prancing around half-undressed and with a wire poking out of your brassiere. You thought about how he could’ve looked up and caught you: the unwelcome guest, spying on him in nothing but her underwear. And what shabby underwear it was! You unhooked it the same moment and threw it in your suitcase, still burning.

The impression of looking battered was stuck on you even as you picked out your least worn swimsuit and a dress to go with it, which prior to coming here seemed rather Californian to you. Now it looked childish, too flowy, like a little girl’s dress. What did it matter if you looked silly? You didn’t know but you feared it, and as you twirled around and picked at the threadbare stitching, you only thought of how flustering it would be for him to notice the cheapness of the material, the slightly frayed hemline with a thread sticking out from beneath. Maya would have made fun of the dress, if she were here to see it. The thought alone made you swear not to wear it around her, perhaps never wear it again at all, and instead you dressed in a shirt and shorts, both fitting loose and boyish; they made you look plain but they at least didn’t make you look stupid.

You had just been packing your beach bag when a knock came at the door; it was him, changed out of his swimming attire and a towel on his neck. “Going somewhere?” he asked after a brief gust of silence, in which you stood there, staring stupidly at his face, and it wasn’t until he had spoken that you became aware, with a rush of color to your face, that you had blundered irrevocably in thinking he had come to reproach you, had noticed your watching him. You had made a fool of yourself looking so scared.

“Yes,” you said, stammering, your words tumbling over each other. “Yes, I’m going to the beach.”

“That’s nice,” he said; and he knew, you thought, he guessed you had done something wrong and inappropriate in his house, or in the very least finally pegged you as an odd person. It was in his eyes, the gentle, perhaps slightly pitiful scrutiny. “One of my nephews phoned me earlier. He and my sister will be coming for lunch and he asked for some sort of bracelet he borrowed to Maria. I thought to ask you to look for it, but it seems like you’ll miss them.”

“Oh. Yes, of course.” You were overly relieved, overly eager. “I’ll look for it. It’s no problem.”

“You don’t have to inconvenience yourself, it was my mistake to bother you,” he said, his voice even. “Go to the beach.”

“I have the whole day, it’s really no problem.” You were already pushing the door into a close.

He put his hand on it. “It would be easier to find, I think,” he said, reaching into his pocket for a photograph, “if you knew what it looked like.”

There was a ghost of a smile on his lips, fingers grazing your as he handed it over. And you knew that, by then, it had already begun.

#seokjin x reader #kim seokjin #seokjin fic #seokjin fanfiction #female reader #seokjin fanfic #seokjin angst #bts fanfic #bts fic #seokjin x you #seokjin x y/n #candy writes #bts imagines #i hope you enjoy #love you guys!!#♡

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