#the southampton plot

[une-sanz-pluis]

All three parties to this plot were found guilty and on the face of it, they received similar sentences: ‘As traitors…they should be drawn, hanged and beheaded.’ Elements of this punishment were remitted for Gray and the earl of Cambridge, but Lescrope – the conspirator perceived to be closest to and most beloved of the king – was subjected to the worst punishment. He was drawn, beheaded and his head displayed on the gates of York. In Lescrope’s case, it was because of his status as a Knight of the Garter that he was treated more harshly, an interesting contrast to the treatment of the Garter knight Sir Simon Burley. The trial record explains: The aforesaid Henry, Lord Lescrope, is however a knight of that illustrious and excellent military Order of the Garter…; the same Henry, therefore, despite being in the same order, should be lawfully punished for his crime, without allowing any person to presume to malign or think ill of that illustrious order for those who wear it worthily. This condemnation of Lescrope seems to contain a sense of unease about falseness that might lurk even within that most idealised model of manhood, the Garter knight, and about the ever-present potential for corruption of homosocial bonds of love that were so crucial to the performance of chivalric masculinity. The admonition that no one ‘should presume to malign or think ill of that venerable Order to those who wear it worthily’ suggests an awareness of this potential and an attempt to foreclose dangerous interpretations of Lescrope’s execution. It was Lescrope’s profound violation of knighthood that made him more blameworthy and therefore deserving the harshest punishment. The degrading process of drawing, public beheading and the display of his severed head was intended to mark him out as an anomaly, a debased inversion of true manhood who had been emphatically excised from the masculine body politic. However, the warning that no one should interpret Lescrope’s fall as a reason to malign men who remained members of the Garter implies an underlying anxiety about the tenuous nature of a gendered identity that was constructed and performed through structures of masculine chivalric intimacy.

E. Amanda McVitty, ‘False knights and true men: contesting chivalric masculinity in English treason trials, 1388–1415′, Journal of Medieval History, 40:4, 2014.

[swforester]

Wrought ironwork surrounds a family plot. What's really crazy is this tree probably grew inside the fence after this family was laid to rest.

Southampton Center Cemetery 3/16/24

[nbbkatherine]

Come home, the kettle’s whistling

I Saw The TV Glow, 2024 Jane Schoenbrun movie. Our Wives Under the Sea novel by Julia Armfield; 1899 tv show; Piranesi novel by Susanna Clarke.

xxx

You have forgotten something very, very important. You are lost and you are loved, you have wandered far and don’t know the way back and somewhere someone begs: “come home.” This is a story arc that is extremely dear to me. 

Jane Schoenbrun’s I Saw the TV Glow is an homage to classic horror rendered in gorgeous color, it’s a coming-of-age story about transformative media, it’s a harrowing allegory for the trans experience with a warning. It begins as Owen and Maddy, teenagers in a small town, tentatively become friends via their shared love for The Pink Opaque, a tv show about the supernatural. As the film progresses, it forces the audience to confront the absolute horror that is never becoming the person you were always meant to be. And when I say force, I mean this movie grabs you by the throat and makes you cry about it. I watched it in theaters twice in a week because I simply could not stop thinking about it.

Of the main character, I have this to say—she’s a coward, and she’s the bravest person I know.

xxx

You have wandered far, and in that wandering, you have changed. Our Wives Under the Sea by Julia Armfield is also queer horror, but this time centered around a married couple, Miri and Leah, switching between POVs and timelines in deliciously detailed and unsettling prose. Leah, a marine biologist, has finally returned after what should have been a three week deep sea dive stretches out for months; Miri is desperate for answers and wondering if Leah’s technical return to land is a return to home at all.

You are lost and you are loved and somewhere someone begs: “wake up.” While en route to New York City from Southampton, all the compasses on board steamship Kerberos break—and it just gets weirder from there. Netflix tv show 1899 features passengers and crew speaking a dazzling array of languages at each other, each with their own secrets, all trying to figure out what the hell is going on. Deeply ominous and meticulously plotted, this show will keep you guessing start to finish.

You have forgotten something very, very important, but the House is beautiful, and you are comforted. It is the Fifth Month in the Year the Albatross came to the South-Western Halls, and Piranesi wanders the Vestibules and Halls of the House, documents the Tides, and occasionally meets up with the Other to discuss Secret Knowledge. The story unfolds as you slowly start to realize just how Piranesi came to live in the House—strong contender for best book I’ve read this year, Piranesi by Susanna Clarke broke my heart.

[averagewriter-inthedark]

My Heart Will Go On 🤍 | Bradley Bradshaw Imagine | Titanic AU

Set where Bradley falls in love with a first class passenger aboard Titanic

TGM Masterlist

Characters & Pairings: third class!Bradley ‘Rooster’ Bradshaw x first class!female reader (romantic), Natasha Trace x Jake Seresin (romantic), Robert Floyd, Mickey Garcia, Reuben Fitch, Javy Machado, OCs for family members.

Content Warnings: fluff, major angst, profanity, classism and mentions of sexism & misogyny, historical event disaster, death, emotional, light smut-Minors DNI! | female!reader (she/her) wc: 18.3k (this is long be warned)

Requested 📨 yes/no (rules for requests)

Premise: On Wednesday April 10th, 1912, RMS Titanic set sail from Southampton, England on her maiden voyage to America. She carried thousands of passengers from across the world, including 21-year-old American socialite Y/n L/n. No one could have predicted the outcome the ship they said was unsinkable would endeavor. And for Y/n, never did it come to her she’d be boarding a ship with a path of leading her to her soulmate.

Note: Y’all I literally was a MESS during the final few scenes I wrote—I literally had to stop because I was crying. It didn’t help I was playing the Hymn of the Sea and My Heart Will Go On and envisioning the scenes as I wrote them. It was too much really—and I always cry at the end of the movie so it felt the same. Please not this is NOT an exact retelling of the movie plot, i referenced a lot but also did research on the real story of titanic (for example how it was a moonless night so it was very dark). Anyway I’m sorry if this made you a mess like it did to me….we can cry together.

———————————-

1958

“Grandma, can you tell us the story about how you met Papa?”

Crickles rose next to her eyes when she softly smiled, bringing the bed sheet up to tuck in the children. Only the dim light from the candle lit the room. Down the hall, the faint sound of Frank Sinatra’s “Fly Me To The Moon,” on the record player could be heard. She didn’t even hear her daughter, the children’s mother, come in.

“Honey, you both need to sleep,” the woman knew the subject was a sore one for her mother and father, despite being why they met. In her nearly forty years of life, she’d only heard the story first hand from them once. Any other information was the lectures in history class of the historical tragedy. “We have a long drive ahead of us tomorrow so you need to be well rested,” her look was scolding, causing the children, ten and twelve, to pout.

“Pleaaase.”

“Amelia.”

“It’s only half past eight, mama.”

“Yeah, please just one story,” Rebecca pleaded with her sister, “You said they met on a boat like the one we went on last summer!”

Their mother hushed them, “No, I said they met on a ship—that’s very different from the little steamboat your uncle and aunt have.” Her voice goes lower, careful to not to disturb her father from down the hall, “and what did I tell you about asking such things?”

“Sweetheart, it’s alright,” the older woman finally stepped in, casting a soft look to her daughter.

She didn’t look convinced, aware of the painful memories the story would bring up. Losing friends and family so suddenly on what was supposed to be the journey of a lifetime. “Mom…..”

“Trust me, Cynthia, it’s okay. You need not to worry about me,” she turns to her grandchildren who appear confused and a little ashamed for causing their mother to scold them. “I think it’s time these little ones get a little history lesson about your father and I. How the Bradshaws came to be.”

“Are you sure?” Cynthia stepped further into the room. She didn’t want to admit it, but she too wanted to hear the story again. The first time had been when she was eighteen, confronting her parents after she found newspaper clippings and the ticket for a first class passenger reading her mother’s name, Y/n L/n, stashed away in a box when they were moving. That’s when they sat her down at the table detailing everything from start to finish.

By the time her parents finished telling the story Cynthia was in a puddle of tears. She understood why her parents always had a haunted look in their eyes whenever April 14th rolled by. It never left them until the 16th, since the 15th was just as significant. Her older sister by eight years, Caroline, warned her to refrain from asking their parents about how they met and she soon realized why. After doing the math, her sister’s birthday was exactly nine months to the day, born on the 14th of January in 1913.

As she got older Cynthia met more children like her. Those whose parents, grandparents, uncles, and aunts were among the nearly 2,300 passengers and crew aboard. Children whose family members survived had the same look when the anniversary passed. Just like Cynthia’s parents.

“Mom,” she took a seat on the armchair in the corner of the room, “I don't want you to relive it if it’s too much.”

“I appreciate your concern, honey,” Y/n smiled at her, “but I’ve learned to cope and manage. Your father has too,” she watched Cynthia visibly relax. “In fact, he and I have talked about it a few times since you left home. And I promise to keep it short—and not go into detail about….you know,” she didn’t have to explain further for Cynthia already knew what she implied.

With a nod from her daughter, Y/n adjusts her position so she’s seated more comfortably, allowing the children and Cynthia to see her better. “To tell you the story of how Papa and I met,” she begins, the flicker of the candlelight reflecting against her. “We have to travel back forty-six years. To April tenth, nineteen-twelve…..”

“Hurry, Y/n, we’re gonna be late for check-in!” Her father shouted from in front of her, moving at a fast pace with her mother and younger brother. Clutching a bag in each hand, Y/n tried not to trip while apologizing left and right to people she bumped with. The dress she had on was tight, the skirt brushing against her ankles and Y/n wished she opted out of wearing the pillbox hat her mother insisted she wore.

“Sorry!” She said when she caused a man to drop his basket of apples. “I’m so sorry!” As much as she wanted to help she couldn’t, the whistle of the luxurious ship sounded off in the near distance, resulting in more stress to consume her. Her family was supposed to be dropped off right in front of the dockway, but due to a rough start in the morning they ended up getting caught in traffic just before the turn into the lot. Now they were running with little time until the ship would set off for Cherbourg, France, the first of two stops before sailing to New York.

It wasn’t a classy sight for such a wealthy family. Surely their fellow first class passengers were watching them with disapproval. But then again they always did.

The L/n’s were not your average high class family. While the majority of the first class aboard came from generations of money, Y/n’s father built his real estate business in New York from the ground up after being in the working class for thirty years. They were what you would call ‘new’ to the high class scene and still did things working class people did. She and her brother went to public schools instead of private institutions. They didn’t have an army of maids and butlers in their home, her mother preferring to do the housework herself. Y/n was in her last semester of NYU with passions of being a writer. And her father was very involved in his business despite making it big to the point he could just hire a bunch of people to run it for him.

To them, money was a privilege that could easily be taken away at any point. They were humble in their wealth, sharing it by putting resources into the low income neighborhoods they once lived in. Unlike their newfound peers who’d rather stockpile it away for safekeeping.

Yeah, even with money you hide away from judgment.

Out of breath already, Y/n finally reached the corner her parents had just turned to arrive at the docking platform. There was no stopping the awe-struck expression in face the second her eyes landed on the giant vessel. The smell of fresh paint struck her nose, gaze drifting to the large lettering that sent chills along her arm.

Titanic.

The rumors did no justice when describing the beauty of the ship. Titanic was magnificent. She wondered if her parents were as captivated as she was.

“Y/n! Come one!”

Scratch that thought. Maybe they weren’t.

Picking up the pace, Y/n hauled up onto the platform with her ticket in hand, amazed she didn’t drop it in the chaos.

“Ticket please,” the man dressed in a White Star Line uniform said with his hand out. Her parents and brother were standing off to the side, now taking in the beauty of the ship since they made it on time.

Handing over the paper, the man read over her information and stamped it, allowing her to pass where another man was waiting to escort them to their suite. Settling in Y/n unpacked her gowns and nightwear, hanging them up to prevent wrinkles. Makeup and what little jewelry she had filled the vanity, school books claiming the nightstand. When she finally finished her back hit the bed with an audible huff of relief, sinking into the mattress adorned with fine silk sheets.

“Don’t get too comfortable,” her father said when he found her just a short moment later. “Lunch will be served and my colleague wishes for us to join him and his son. He’d like for the two of you to meet.”

Instantly Y/n bolted up from the bed, suspicious in her eyes, “Why?” There was no denying the possible reason. At 21 years old, finding a suitor to settle down with was expected of her. Personally Y/n wanted to focus on her studies. Not finding a husband. Her parents never pressured her to find someone, but now it seems her father was suggesting such.

Her mother comes into the room, wearing the same expression as her. Her eyes go straight to Y/n’s father, “I told you, I don’t like that man—nor his son. He has no respect for you and you know that!”

“I know that, dear,” he sighs, exhausted in his tone. “Believe me I’m very aware. Look, I’m not trying to set her up on my own accord—in fact, I’ll be happy to decline a proposal if that is what he’s seeking. But he invited us to have lunch with them and I accepted because that’s how things are done. Honey,” he faces Y/n, giving her an assuring gaze, “I’m not pressuring you into anything. Okay? If I said no to this he’d likely pester the entire journey to America and I did not want that for us. So please, give me an hour of your time to get through this meal? Bore the man if you have to so he’s less interested.”

Y/n was eternally grateful she was blessed with a father who did not engage in the typical high class behaviors. Any other man would be presenting her hand in marriage like an auction. She’d seen it with the few friends she’d made. It always started with a ‘meeting’ arranged by the fathers of two people and before they knew it a rock was on the girl's finger.

Her father respected her. He warned her before she sat at the table and found out for herself. Even given his blessing to scare the man off or assuring he’d say no to a proposal. Not many fathers would do that.

“Thank you for telling me in advance, dad. I’m starving too so let’s get this over with,” she makes a face, knowing what he was going to ask of her next. “And I promise to watch my tongue.”

That didn’t last long. She knew the second she sat at the table it wouldn’t. Not only was her father’s colleague the most arrogant man on the planet with no respect for his peers, but his son was as equally the egotistical maniac as he was. Throughout the entire lunch, Y/n didn’t know who exactly was trying to win her affection. Both men seemed to be trying to one up the other. How odd of the father for doing such when it was thought he planned for his son to hopefully become her suitor.

Not the case really.

One comment from Richard to undermine her intelligence had Y/n bolt from the table with a sneaker remark, disregarding the looks of disdain from the two men and others. Her parents remained invested in their meal, shooting a smirk of approval to their daughter.

“You promised me this would be a mutual agreement!” The man shouted in frustration. Her father simply sipped his champagne.

“I promised no such thing, William. I said your son may meet my daughter, but I made no commitments for her to agree to anything more.”

The fresh air and sound of the sea hit Y/n as she stepped onto the deck, overlooking the rear of the ship where the second and third class decks were. Closing her eyes she took a deep breath before slowly letting it exhale. Men like Willam and Richard were not the first she’d interacted with. Unfortunately most of the male population in high class shared personalities in similar nature.

Egotistical, arrogant, narcissistic. The list goes on. Very little respect for women or those of lesser wealth. Y/n prayed she’d never settle for someone like that. The marriage would be a disaster.

Opening her eyes, Y/n rubbed her hands along the smooth railing before slightly leaning over to get a better look. Murmurs filled her ears, children laughing from the lower decks, the band playing a light melody. It was a pretty scene with the sun high in the sky and seagulls flying overhead. They’d be docking in France soon before stopping in Ireland until finally crossing the Atlantic.

As her eyes drifted over the area, Y/n locked gazes with a man who made no attempt to hide he was staring at her. It caught her off guard, but the young woman couldn’t let but stare herself. He was the most handsome man she’d laid eyes on. Brown hair with almost a golden hue to it. Though it was hard to see the color of his eyes from the distance she assumed they were as beautiful as the rest of him. He was tall—even with the distance she saw in the way he towered over the railing he was beside.

And he was looking at her like she was the only girl in existence.

Blinking, her admiration was cut short by the sound of a cheerful voice shouting, “Y/n!” Spinning around, Y/n was met with the dazzling smile of her best friend, Natasha Trace. Surprise etches her expression.

“Natasha!” The two embrace in a hug. “What—you didn’t tell me you were returning to America. I thought your studies were to finish in London.” Natasha was the only genuine friend Yn had made since her father hit the money pot. Maybe it was because Nat’s family was of humble beginnings like the L/n’s.

“I discussed the potential of finishing the semester early,” Natasha explained, beaming and looking radiant with the way the sun was hitting her. “My father sent a ticket through the post once I told him the news.”

“When was this?” Y/n had recently visited the woman when her family were in London. Her father had a business convention and with the finishing of Titanic, he wanted them to be one of the ships first passengers. During her visit, Nat revealed no indication she’d be joining the maiden voyage to New York.

“Shortly after you departed for Southampton. I only had few exams remaining and my professors were very forthcoming with allowing me to do them early. Plus I missed home. My mother has been writing me daily it seems—waiting for me to come home. I think my father spent all his fortune to get the ticket to me in time.”

“I’m amazed he managed to get one,” Y/n commented, taking her arm in hers as they begin to walk away from the railing, but not before casting a second glance to the man on the lower deck. A swarm of butterflies filled her to see he was still looking at her, his friend having to wave a hand in front of his face as though to pull him from a trance. Another gentleman beside him appeared to be staring at Natasha. She must’ve noticed, a faint blush appeared on her cheeks as Y/n escorted her away. “I heard many had to trade services and goods to get one.”

“I can see why,” Natasha waved to the beautiful vessel surrounding them. “This place is magnificent. Almost as though it were a ship made of dreams.” They continued to walk along the deck, nodding to passengers and crew members who greeted them.

“What are your plans once we arrive home? Off to visit your family I presume?”

“Yes,” Natasha confirms, waving to a small child. “I’ll spend a few days with them—my sisters cannot wait to hear of my adventures in England.”

Y/n hums, turning her head slightly with a knowing gaze, “And what of Alan?” She watched a tired sigh leave Natasha, face becoming defeated.

“He expects an answer from me as soon as I return.”

“Have you thought about it?”

“Of course,” Natasha replies, stopping to face her. “I’ve weighed in the advantages marrying him would bring me and my family—my mother is sure to remind me in every letter she writes. He is kind, generous, not like the other men my father wished me to court.”

“But….” Y/n trails off, eyes sympathetic.

“But,” her friend sighs again, “I do not feel what a woman is supposed to feel for her potential fiance. I can’t bring myself to love him. I like him, Y/n, I truly do. But I’d only be hurting the both of us by accepting.”

“Then tell him the truth,” Y/n tells her, bringing a comforting hand to Natasha’s shoulder. “Alan is an understanding man—you’ve been a friend of his since grade school. I doubt he would fault you for not being able to return his affections. Why subject the both of you to pain and a miserable marriage? What happens if you marry him and then fall in love with another?”

Natasha didn’t answer, glancing to the floor with heat coating her cheeks. Y/n squeezed the shoulder she was touching, “Come, let us have a drink,” she began to lead Nat to one of the many lounges in first class, “Take your mind off things while I tell you all about the father and son I recently had lunch with.”

“That sounds interesting…and a little concerning.”

“Trust, dear friend, it was.”

Later on in the evening, Y/n was pulling Natasha to her room to hand over clothing for her to change into.

“This is a horrible idea, Y/n!” She spoke in a rush, untying her dress and moving to be hidden from view.

“Oh it’s not so bad,” Y/n laughed, tossing the clothing she wore on the bed before pulling on the slacks and shirt. “Have some fun. Were you not the one who wanted to explore the ship earlier?”

“Not by sneaking into the third-class compartments!” She waved a hand like it was obvious, “We’re not allowed down there. What if we get caught?”

“That’s why I told you to have your ticket with you,” Y/n reminded her, placing her own ticket into the pocket of her trousers. “And your identification card. If we get caught we show them and if they still do not believe us I will send for my father.”

“You’re awfully confident about this.”

“Natasha, who’s to say we’ll get the chance to travel this ship again once we dock in America? Let us make the most of it while we can.” Placing a scarf around her neck, Y/n nods for Natasha to follow. “Follow my lead.”

Getting caught by crew members when passing between the class decks was what Y/n was prepared for when she first made the impulse decision to explore the ship. Running into the man she had a staring contest with earlier in the day was not something she had planned for.

“Hello,” she breathed out, hands clutching his biceps when he caught her before she could hit the ground after running straight into him without paying attention. He was even more beautiful up close. Hazel eyes boring into her with a small smile painting his lips. He must’ve recognized her too.

“Hello.”

“I think we lost them,” Natasha caught up to her, equally out of breath before freezing at the sight of the group of six men staring at them like deer in headlights. “Oh…”

“Ladies,” the blonde haired man, who Y/n caught looking at Natasha that afternoon tipped his messenger boy hat at them.

“S-sorry,” Y/n stuttered, flickering between the men but always coming back to the one holding her arms. Finally she broke away, embarrassed to have been seen in such a state. “I should have been watching where I was going—.”

“It’s alright,” he replied, voice as soft as his eyes. “No trouble at all, ma’am. Are you both okay?”

“We’re—.”

“There you are!” A shout captured all’s attention, Natasha and Y/n groaning before shooting apologetic frowns to them. “Stop them!”

“We have to go!” Nat grips onto Y/n’s forearm, pushing her to move. “Y/n, I’d like to make it back home and not be forced off this ship in Ireland!” Frantic sounds of approaching footsteps could be made out by the two crew members pursuing the women.

“We know a way,” the man she had yet to learn the name of suddenly said, holding his hand out. “C’mon.”

Maybe it wasn’t wise for two ladies to be following a group of strangers. But considering they’d be facing the wrath of their parents if caught they impulsively agreed, Y/n’s hand taking his. The blonde offered his to Natasha, the woman looking hesitant before accepting and the two led them away from the deck and towards a corridor. With the remaining of their group following from behind, it made it easier for the crew members to lose sight of them.

Music filled their ears, as did the chatter of a crowd the closer they got to wherever they were taking them. Y/n and Natasha shared a look, equally confused, concerned, and intrigued. When they turned the corner into a spiral stairwell, it revealed the source of the noise. Third-class passengers had gathered what appeared to be a celebration. Children and adults were dancing, drinking beer which had to have been smuggled in. A group of men were playing instruments while couples standing in corners displayed affection to one another.

A smile formed on Y/n’s lips. The energy was contagious, making her want to join in on the festivities. She’d almost forgotten what brought her there in the first place.

“They won’t come down here,” his voice brings Y/n out her thoughts, the young woman remembering she was still holding his hand. It felt warm in her own, bringing a heat to her veins that carried to her face.

“Are you sure?”

“They would’ve been here by now if they were that desperate to catch you two.” Pulling her further in, he and his friend let go of the women. “Apologies for being so forward—didn’t think you two would mind seeing you were in such a hurry.” A couple of the friends they were with already went off to mingle, leaving the four off to the side.

“We should be thanking you really,” Y/n replied, hand moving to run her arm nervously. “You’ve saved us from a load of trouble.”

“Looked like it,” the blonde removed a cigarette from his tin, lighting it with match. Offering one to them only Nat accepted, which would’ve been seen as scandalous to their peers above. “So…what brings a couple of first-class gals below deck?”

The two are instantly flustered, “H-how did you—.”

“Well, for starters there’s the fact we saw you ladies this morning on the first-class deck,” Green eyes drift over to Nat, causing her to blush. “And though you dressed the part to pass as someone like us, anyone could tell from the way you carry yourselves that you belong above.”

They didn’t know whether they should be impressed or offended.

“We wanted to explore the ship,” Y/n admits, arms going behind her back like a child caught doing something they weren’t supposed to. The man she was interested in raised a brow, “By dressing up like third-class passengers?”

Natasha made a sound, muttering, “I warned you this was a bad idea.”

“I realize that now, Natasha.”

“What are we supposed to do?” She groaned, “Wait it out till the sun rises? Or when we dock in Ireland when they’re easily distracted?”

“Do you want me to answer that with a plan or were those rhetorical questions to further prove you were right?” Y/n glanced around the place, aware of her friends' annoyed gaze compared to the men who looked amused. Huffing, Y/n faces them, “It’s come to my attention we have yet to know the names of our saviors. Mind telling us, and anything you could offer to help our situation.” Instantly the two straighten.

“Jake Seresin,” said the blonde.

“Bradley Bradshaw,” his hand extends to formally introduce himself. Y/n shakes it, mirroring the smile he gives her. “And about your situation, I’m afraid you can either attempt to sneak past the guards during shift change or like your friend mentioned, wait till we dock in Ireland.”

“That’ll be just before noon,” Natasha sounded like she didn’t like that option. “Your parents would notice you’re not in your room when it comes time for breakfast. We must return as quickly as possible.”

Bradley tilted his head, “Well if that’s the case then you better off with your chances sneaking past the crew, Miss…..” The trail off in his words made her realize she hadn’t given her name. But then again he may have heard when Natasha said it moments prior.

“Y/n L/n,” his reaction to her name was visible. As was Jake’s when she added, “and this is my friend, Natasha Trace.”

Both men shared a look. “L/n, huh? Like the name of that big building on 21st street?”

“That’s the one,” her lips tightened, ready for the judgment and assumptions about to be thrown at her.

Nat felt the same when Jake added, “And your daddy is the one competing with Rockefeller for king of the oil business. I remember reading something about it in the Times.”

“I wouldn’t go as far as to use the term ‘king,’” she crossed her arms, tilting her chin up with her walls already in place. “And I wouldn’t trust all you read in the papers. My father has high respect for John—he taught him everything he knows.”

Jake raised his hands in defense, “I mean no offense, ma’am. How about you tell me more over a drink?” The look of surprise had the man grinning, Y/n having to bite back a giggle to not embarrass her friend. She gave Natasha an encouraging nod that read, ‘he’s on the make with you!’

“While you two are chatting,” Bradley suddenly cut in, a determined look in his eyes as they set on Y/n. “Would you like to dance?”

“O-oh,” she began to stutter, now in Natasha’s shoes considering she had yet to accept Jake’s offer of a drink. They both were hesitant to agree to the offers. “Uh—shouldn’t we be looking to see when the night guards change shifts?”

“That’ll be towards dawn,” he assured, “plenty of time for you to return to your room before your parents wake.” At her still unsure gaze, Bradley’s voice turned softer, “just one dance. S’all I ask.”

Meeting Natasha’s eyes, who simply nodded in silent exchange, Y/n raised her hand and let it fall into Bradley’s grasp. “One dance, Mr. Bradshaw.”

“Did you really only dance with him for one song, Grandma?” The twelve year old girl, Amelia, was flabbergasted when her grandmother ended the story with, “and we lived happily ever after.” She yearned to hear more.

“That was the plan,” Y/n booped her nose, “but your Papa was a charmer back in the day—still is I should say. One dance became two, and then three. Before we knew it the sun was rising, Natasha and I were in a hurry to return to the first-class deck. Thankfully we made it before anyone could spot us,” lips curl up, a fond memory surfacing in her head, “though to this day I believe my brother knew what we did.”

“How?” Rebecca asked, earning a look from her mother.

Y/n chuckled lightly before responding, “He had that look in his eye that he knew something I didn’t. I never got the chance to ask him if he did,” a sad sigh leaves her, but she quickly masks it to not concern the girls, “but my brother and I had an unspoken connection when we were growing up. Able to know what the other was thinking or trying to imply with little to no words at all.”

“What happened after?” Amelia sat up straight, eyes full of hope. A hopeless romantic, even at a young age, she loved hearing the tales of how people found love. Fairytales were her favorite, where the princess meets the handsome prince and they live happily ever after.

The clock was pushing 9:30, well past the time she and her sister were supposed to be asleep. Amelia believed her mother would’ve stepped in earlier to cut the story short.

And it looked like she was about to do it just then. Standing from the armchair, Cynthia stopped her mother before she could answer, knowing the story was about to take a different turn if it went any further. “I think that’s a story for another day,” her tone was apologetic, but Y/n’s gaze assured her she was right to interrupt. The story would end on a happy note for the girls.

“But—,”

“You mother is right, sweetheart,” Y/n lightly pushed against Amelia’s shoulders to get her to lay down, bringing the sheet back up. Disappointment filled her granddaughter’s expressions, Y/n offering a small smile, “One day, I will tell you both more of my time on Titanic—and how your Papa and I fell in love in those short days sailing the Atlantic. But for now,” she goes to press a kiss to their foreheads, “sleep. We will have breakfast in the morning—I’ll even make French toast for you two.”

Though the girls wanted to hear more, the exhaustion soon took over, both releasing a yawn. Amelia drifted off, picturing Titanic and all its beauty from how Y/n described it, making a mental note to ask to see a picture one day.

Cynthia kissed her daughters goodnight as Y/n blew out the candle, the two exiting the room with Cynthia closing it behind her, leaving it slightly ajar. Approaching the kitchen, Cynthia debated on asking the question on her mind, growing bigger with each second. Everett, her husband of 15 years, had already gone to bed in the guest room they’d been staying the past weekend, leaving her father as the only person other than them still awake.

Y/n was handed her nightly cup of tea from Bradley, the man leaning to kiss her cheek. Sipping the hot contents, she released a sound of content, his arm going around her while he sipped his own. Leaning against the doorway of the kitchen, Cynthia admires the scene in front of her. The look of love in her father’s eyes while he gazed down at Y/n, his own wrinkles adorning his face. Both grayed haired with skin beginning to frail as they approached their 70s.

Cynthia pictured them at 21. Young and carefree with dreams and aspirations. Her mother, a timeless beauty and her father, the handsome charmer. Boarding Titanic to return home after being gone so long, unaware they’d meet their soulmate and experience an event regarded as the deadliest peacetime disasters in history.

They were one of the lucky ones. Surviving when so many were lost, yet they had their fair share of perished loved ones. Cynthia saw it anytime Y/n mentioned her father and brother. Saw it when her father discussed the days he spent with his best friends.

“Little ones finally in bed?” Bradley’s voice removed her from her thoughts, Cynthia nodded when she realized he was asking her.

“Yeah,” she rubbed her arms, “they insisted on hearing a story from grandma.”

“Oh really?” he looked intrigued, peering down at his wife, “which one this time?”

Y/n tightened her mouth slightly, “About how we met.” Instantly his expression changed, but it wasn’t like in the early years where Bradley would shut down at the mere mention of Titanic. Instead a hint of a smile found his lips, knowing it was his granddaughter’s wanting to know how they fell in love.

“Oh,” he hums, shuffling his feet a bit and tightening the hold on Y/n. “What all did you tell them?”

“Up to the morning of the eleventh.” A laugh leaves him, making Cynthia mentally sigh in relief.

“What a night that was,” the memory of him and Jake ushering Y/n and Natasha through the secret pathways they’d found that led straight to first-class replayed in his mind. Peering behind the corridor at the night crew relieving themselves from post, giving only three minutes for the women to cross into the deck without notice. Bradley catching Y/n’s hand before she could leave, “May I see you again, Y/n? If not tonight but the next?” The eye contact between them was intense, desire and what could only be described as the beginning stages of love swarming.

Y/n promised to return, noticing Natasha was promising the same to Jake and handed Bradley the handkerchief she had on her. A kiss to her hand and Bradley watched her go, dragging Natasha away until they disappeared out of sight, leaving the men to avoid being seen as they headed back to the third-class compartments.

“One to remember,” Y/n echoes, leaning more into him. The image of her and Natasha giggling when they made it to her suite flashed in her mind. “I cannot believe that just happened! Oh, Natasha, do you feel what I am feeling? It’s like walking on a cloud!”

“Mom, dad?” Cynthia suddenly spoke, nervous she was about to make them upset by asking the jarring question nagging her brain. When their heads turned the words flew before she could stop them, “Could…could you tell me again about that night?”

Sunday April 14, 1912 started out like any other aboard Titanic. Y/n rose early to accompany her family at breakfast before meeting with Natasha for lunch. Throughout the day they’d reside close to the railing of the first-class deck to oversee the third-class one where Bradley and Jake would wait for them. Subtle looks and waves would be exchanged, the men subjected to howls and whistles from their friends.

In the days leading up she felt like she was living in one of her fairytale novels. The night of the 11th she and Natasha were formally introduced to Mickey, Reuben, Javy, and Bob when they snuck back during the shift change between day and night crew. Y/n enjoyed being with the group. They were funny and outgoing, very different from the men she was usually surrounded by.

Together they’d drink whiskey and smoke cigarettes, dance to the music passengers played and tell tales of their upbringing. Y/n learned Bradley and his friends were all aspiring aviators with backgrounds as mechanics and had grown up in the same neighborhood. He was originally from Virginia and lived in New Jersey with his Godfather after losing his parents to illness when he was sixteen and had no siblings.

Y/n told him about her family, explaining how they were once working class citizens until her father had a leading hand in constructing The National Association of Realtors. Bradley appeared impressed when she told him, finding admiration in those who worked hard for their wealth and not had handed to them on a silver platter. She explained her studies at NYU, dreams of being a writer—a novelist to be more specific, and hobbies of hers such as horseback riding, reading, and writing.

“What type of novels do you wish to write?” Bradley popped some chocolate into his mouth, offering a piece to her which she gladly accepted.

“Thrillers would be interesting to do,” she walked with him along the deck, the sound of the water hitting the ship loud against her ears. Jake had dragged Natasha off God knows where. The others were likely enjoying the company of their new Irish friends they made who boarded during the stop in Queenstown. “A good mystery could be fun. Also who does not like a happily ever after when it comes to love stories?”

“Think this journey may inspire one of the sort?” Bradley’s voice took a different turn, Y/n glancing to see he was already staring at her, a look she could only describe as adoration. It made heat rise in her, butterflies pooling that were threatening to burst from her stomach.

‘Is this what they mean when you’ve fallen in love at first sight?’

Feeling confident, returning the same gaze as Bradley, Y/n replies, “It is too early to say, but if what I feel happening is the same for you…. I find it very well could be.”

That night ended with their first kiss. Shared before the sun rose and Y/n made her leave to her room. Though she was scolded by her mother for missing breakfast due to sleeping in longer than she should have, Y/n didn’t care. The tingling sensation from where Bradley’s lips met hers remained all day, making the young woman yearn for more. A light feeling in her chest as though she was walking on a cloud. It grew stronger with each time she was with Bradley.

Hours were spent together once the night sky took over. Y/n departing for bed right after supper to get a few hours of sleep. When she awoke Natasha was knocking at her door and the two would sneak off—careful not to draw attention to themselves. The night of the 12th Bradley and Y/n crept into the area where the motor vehicles were stored. It was like a candy store for the man, who worked on cars for a living.

They’d play pretend with Bradley acting like Y/n’s driver. “My lady,” he’d say while helping her into the unlocked vehicle. “Why thank you,” her giggle made his heart skip, wishing to hear more of it. Y/n would lean over the seat between them while he leaned back, the two sharing kisses between laughs.

Two young adults living in their own little world. Slowly falling in love as the day turned into night. Each time Y/n left there would be a gaping hole in her heart. Drifting off to sleep with Bradley’s face as the last thing she saw. When the cycle continued on the 13th, all Y/n could think about was coming clean to her family. She could no longer deny there was love between her and Bradley. Despite only knowing each other for three days, Y/n saw his love for her each time they locked eyes. Every little touch had her wanting more. The words he spoke to her were like a poem, her hand itching to write them down so they stayed with her forever.

She wasn’t worried about them judging Bradley for his status. They were once in his position not even a decade ago. Discriminating him for being lower-class would make them hypocrites and just like their peers they criticize on the daily.

Y/n knew her parents wanted her to be happy. Regardless of who or where the person came from, as long as they loved and respected her then Y/n’s parents would accept them. Her happiness was their priority. It was why they constantly turned down marriage arrangements from her father’s colleagues. And when looking at all the qualities Y/n desired in a life-long partner, Bradley possessed all of them.

“Are you going to tell them?” Natasha raised her teacup to her lips, eyes unconscious flickering over the railing to find Jake. They were seated at a table, discussing the feelings rising between them and the men who’ve caught their eyes. Raising her own, Y/n followed her movements and saw Bradley kicking what appeared to be a ball with his friends and some children.

“I don’t know honestly,” she sighed, placing the teacup back on its saucer. Tiny sunglasses framed her face, protecting her eyes from the sun directly in front of her. “Do you plan on telling your family about Jake?” Now it was Natasha's turn to sigh.

“I guess I share the same fears as you. While I believe my father would approve of Jake, I’m scared he will worry too much about his public image. Of my parents, he’s the one with the most hopeful I say yes to Alan’s proposal.”

“Your mother doesn’t want you to marry Alan?”

“She doesn’t want for me to end up like her. Though she grew to love my father eventually, their marriage stemmed from their parents pressuring them,” Natasha’s gaze wandered back over to Jake. “It wasn’t until they had my siblings and I that she felt the love a wife is supposed to have from her husband—and that was because of us. Truth is, Y/n, I don’t think I see myself falling in love with Alan even if we have children.”

“Then be honest with yourself and your parents, Natasha,” Y/n finally said, declining when a server approached with more tea.

Her friend gives a look of challenge, “only if you do the same.”

“I will,” Y/n spoke confidently, before making a face of unease, adding, “when we arrive in New York.”

“And have you discussed this with him yet?” Natasha didn’t have to say Bradley’s name for her to know he was who she was referring to.

“No, but I will bring it up when I see him tonight. We’ve only a few more days till we’re stateside, that gives me time to prepare.”

Y/n was late to meet Bradley that evening due to Richard visiting her unannounced. “Apologies for the interruption this late, Y/n. But do you have a moment?” It took her by surprise, casting a worried glance to Natasha who mirrored it.

“Um, of course. Nat, I’m going to step out for a minute. I’ll be right by the door,” a nod from her friend and Y/n stepped into the corridor, closing the door so it was slightly ajar. “Yes, Richard?”

“I wanted to apologize for my behavior on Wednesday,” the words shocked her, Y/n visibly reacting to them as though she was in disbelief he was actually saying them. “I mean no offense to you and feel as though I was misunderstood in what I was trying to say.” It took every nerve of her to not roll her eyes. Of course he was trying to pass it off as her not understanding him. He was only a few words shy of calling her over dramatic. “If you allow me, I’d like for you to reconsider my proposal of courtship.”

Y/n stated the obvious, “You never offered a proposal, Richard. I took my departure before any proposal could be made.” Naturally he didn’t expect her to point out his flaw, thinking he could get away with gaslighting her into believing she rejected him when in fact there was no rejection at all.

Quickly Richard attempted to improvise, “Well, then allow me to make one now,” he removed his hat, placing it over his chest in a slight bow, “Would you do me the honor of courting you in hopes a beautiful, highly respected marriage may blossom out of?”

Now she was put on the spot, heart increasing well over the average beats per minute. No doubt Natasha was listening in, equally as anxious to hear what Y/n would say. Mentally cursing, Y/n fumbled over her words, “I-I…I must discuss this with my father in the morning. Surely you understand, Richard,” of course she wanted to say no, but without her father with her Y/n feared the outcome. Even with Natasha behind the door, there was no saying Richard could react negatively to rejection. “I cannot give you an answer just yet. B-but you shall have one by tomorrow evening.”

Though Richard obviously didn’t like her answer, he did a job of concealing it, “Of course. It was foolish of me to come so late in the evening—and to assume you’d agree without consultation. Please, take all the time and I look forward to hearing from you tomorrow. Have a good night, Y/n.” Once he was gone, Y/n leaned against her door and released a breath she had been holding, Natasha bolting from her chair with a, “What the hell was that?!”

After explaining in depth the details Natasha couldn’t hear and a much needed vent to cool off, the two finally made their way to the third-class deck just after midnight. They found Jake and Bradley in the meeting spot they’d established, sharing a cigar and asking what took them so long. The nervousness in Y/n’s demeanor worried Bradley, who gently pulled her away to give them privacy, “What’s wrong?” The one question had Y/n spilling everything off her chest. From Richard and his stupid proposal to her wanting Bradley to meet her parents.

“I’m very overwhelmed and don’t know what to do,” she cried, eyes lining with unshed tears threatening to spill. “The man is already acting as though I’ve said yes and there’s no way in hell I am going to end up in a loveless marriage for my entire life—not when you’ve taken claim to my heart, though it seems foolish to think you could fall in love with someone in just three days a-and I worry my family is going to say absurd things about your status when it shouldn’t define you because you, Bradley, are the most perfect man I’ve ever met and I love you—.” Her last words are cut off when Bradley’s lips meet her. Large hands cupping her cheeks, the scuff on his face burning her chin as the kiss turns more passionate. Y/n’s hands fly to his hair, soft curls against her fingertips and the woman letting out a light moan when Bradley slips his tongue into her mouth in what people would call French kissing.

Pressing her chest further into his, Y/n feels his arms fall to her waist, lifting her slightly off the ground all while continuing to keep his lips on hers. The wind brushes through her hair, cool air sending chills along her otherwise flaring skin.

“I love you,” he finally whispers against her lips, saying it once more before retraining them to hers. Nothing is said for the remainder of the night, the two finding claim to a storage room where they make love until dawn. The only sound exchanged are hot pants of breath and sighs, Y/n’s nails digging into Bradley’s back while his arms cradle her like she was made of glass. He brings her to a climax so many times she loses count. Moans grew louder to the point she feared someone would walk by and hear them. Bradley swallowed each with a kiss, holding her hand and becoming lost within her. If cloud nine was what she felt when with Bradley, then at that moment she was experiencing euphoria. Feeling the reminisce of him lingering inside her well after they were done.

Basking in the afterglow, Y/n laid her head on Bradley’s chest and felt his fingers trail along her back, making her release a sound of bliss, “Where are you going when we dock?”

It takes a second for him to answer, sleep threatening to consume the man, “Back to New Jersey with the guys—see my Godfather and probably go back to working in his shop. What about you?”

“My studies end in late May so I will return to school for the time being,” she replied, lifting her head slightly to see into his eyes. They were the same as hers. Content, blissed, overwhelmed with happiness. “After that….I do not know. My father I think wishes for me to assist him and my brother with the business. But I’d like to travel—see different places on my own.”

“You know,” Bradley hums, a smirk forming on his mouth, “New Jersey is only a short drive from New York—actually it’s across the harbor, the ferry will get you there quicker.” Y/n’s own lips curled up.

“Are you implying I come visit you in New Jersey, Mr. Bradshaw?”

“Only a mere suggestion Miss. L/n,” he defended, cheekiness in his tone. He then becomes serious, hand cupping the side of her face, “I don’t plan on letting you go after this. My heart won’t allow it. It won’t go on without you.”

It was probably the most romantic thing Y/n had ever heard. Better than any writing on paper and forever engraved into her mind. “I don’t think mine will either.”

All throughout the 14th, Y/n was in a constant inner battle with herself. Wondering how to approach the topic of Bradley to her parents and declining Richard’s proposal. Once they learn she’s no longer a maiden Y/n worried about what their reaction would be. If her father would make Bradley marry her right then and there—not that she would mind honestly but she didn’t know if Bradley wanted the same.

“What is wrong today, my dear,” Y/n flinched from the sudden intrusion. Coming up beside her was her father, placing a hand on the railing in her typical spot on the deck. Natasha had stepped away to find a powder room, leaving Y/n to herself until her father appeared. “You appear to be in distress. I find it difficult you can be in such a state when you’ve got a view like this,” he gestures with his hand to the scene in front of them. Nothing but the beautiful ocean and clear skies, the scene straight from a painting.

“I am only deep in my thoughts, father,” Y/n fidgeted with the material on her dress sleeves, looking away when she saw Bradley as the memory of that morning flashed in her mind. “Thinking about my studies and what to do after.” She heard her father make a ‘humph’ sound.

“Nothing to do with your little admirer then?”

Instantly her stomach fell, heat flaring within her, eyes wide like saucer. Snapping her head to her father, she found his gaze forward and when she followed it, Bradley stood in her vision. Dread consumed her, quickly trying to play it off, “I-I…I don’t know what you mean.” A chuckle fills her ears.

“Darling, I may be getting old but I still have eyes and ears,” a hand rests on her shoulder, pulling her closer. “Do you not think I’ve noticed a shift in you these last few days? Ever since Wednesday’s luncheon you’ve spent every moment of your time on the deck. The knowing glances between you and Natasha—how you two come to this spot every day and spend hours watching those fellas over there,” he lifts his finger to point in their general direction. Crinkles appear beside his eyes when his lips curl, “Not to mention I checked your room the other night to find it vacant. Then when I went to have my late night cigar, I saw you in the distance creeping out of the stairwell with Natasha—but you weren’t alone. Those fellas were with you..” his voice becomes softer while Y/n’s heart picks up pace. “And I know the face of someone smitten. And that one over there—,” he points directly at Bradley, who stood frozen when he looked up to find them staring at them. “He’s smitten with you, my dear girl. Trust me, I know, it’s how I look at your mother.”

While she felt a sudden rush of calmness from her father’s implied approval, the linger of worry still remained. “Are you upset with me, dad?”

“What for, Y/n?”

“Because…” She struggles to find the words and lets out a sound of frustration. “Ugh—I know you are not one to invest your time in gossip but I still cannot help but worry. About how people will view you and all the work you did to give us this life—with these high expectations of who I’ll marry and for me to—.”

He stops her before she could finish, “do you love him?” She’s taken aback by the question, stuttering at his bluntness.

“It—it’s only been four days—.”

“I knew I loved your mother within two,” he tells her, still smiling to help put her at ease. “But let’s not make it a competition. And you didn’t answer my question. Do you love him, Y/n.”

“I do,” she falls to a whisper, finally answering when she locks eyes with Bradley. She could tell he was worried for her, slight strain in his face as though he was trying to decipher what the two were discussing. Offering a small smile in hopes to show it was all okay, Y/n says, “I think I knew from the moment I laid eyes on him he’d be someone important to me. But then talking to him every night since we departed England has only confirmed what I already know. My heart belongs to him.”

With the seal of approval from her father, Y/n spent the rest of the day avoiding Richard—even hiding when she caught him and his father walking the deck in a hurry, as though they were searching for something. More like someone.

She and Natasha had supper in Natasha’s suite, gushing over their newfound happiness with their lovers. Y/n wrote in her diary every single detail so as to not forget it when she got older, capturing the memories in writing. While braiding Natasha’s hair the two discussed the brunette's plans for when they docked. “I’m going to come clean to my parents,” Natasha declared, trying not to move while Y/n finished with the first of two braids. “Tell Alan I cannot marry him and let him know I’m spoken for. He’ll understand…I hope. And for my father he will learn to accept it if he has any objections.”

“I’m happy for you, Nat,” Y/n smiled at her through the mirror. “Truly I am. You deserve to be happy—and Jake is smitten with you.”

“As is Bradley with you,” Natasha smirked, causing her friend to look away shyly. “Oh don’t be shy about it now! I know what took place this morning.” At Y/n’s horrified expression, Natasha laughed, “You were way more tired than usual when we returned to our room. And I couldn’t help but notice a slight struggle when you walked.”

“Good heavens, Natasha!” Y/n let go of the hair to cover her face with her hands, cheeks hot from embarrassment.

“Was it nice?”

“Are you seriously asking me that?”

“I’ll take that as a yes,” eyebrows wiggled at her, Natasha giggling as Y/n playfully tagged at the braid before moving to the next one. Moving on from the subject the two finished getting ready until it was the typical time for them to leave, silently thanking whoever above that Richard did not find her. She’d have to confront him eventually. It was that or pray she could avoid him the remainder of the journey—which was only a couple more days.

Bradley lifted her in the arm when she met him, capturing her lips in a kiss before placing tiny ones over her face. It made her giggle, his scruff tickling with each kiss. “Everything okay today?” was the first thing he asked, “I saw you and who I assume to be your father this afternoon. Looked to be a serious conversation.”

“He’s aware of our endeavors,” she spoke truthfully, not wanting to lie or sugarcoat the inevitable. At his anxious eyes she was quick to explain, “He knows I’ve been sneaking at night to see you—he caught me returning to my room. He doesn’t know about this morning….” She watched him bite back a smile, her own forming as the memory resurfaced. “But from our conversation, my father has no objections about us. He wishes to meet you once we dock.”

“He does?” His tone was surprised, Y/n nodding to show she was serious.

“Yes. I told him about your work and he was impressed. Is….is that okay with you?” Her voice goes low, fearful of his answer. A hand cupped her face, holding her gaze to his and Y/n felt her heart nearly stop at the love in his eyes.

“I would be honored to meet your father, Y/n. It disappoints me we have to wait, but I would wait longer if it means I get to receive his blessing.” Before she could say anything else he kissed her, thumb brushing over her cheek making Y/n sigh with bliss. There was no way she could let go of Bradley after they arrived in America. Even if her father had disapproved of them she’d find a way to see him.

Chills run along her body causing Y/n to shudder, the air suddenly dropping in temperature. The reaction has Bradley pull away, “Are you getting cold?”

“A little,” she mentally cursed herself for deciding on a dress instead of trousers and a coat. It was one of her old ones from when she was fifteen. It was ivory colored and a little worn out from wearing it so often as it had been Y/n’s favorite until she got the privilege of purchasing high quality clothing. Though a little tight on her figure it still fit rather good on her.

Removing his jacket, Bradley pulled it around her shoulders before fixing her hair and ignored her protests. It was freezing outside, their breath visible. Surely Bradley would freeze to death as his long shirt would do nothing to combat the cold.

“There you go, doll.” Her reaction to the nickname had him grin, “That should warm you up. Though I could think of another—.”

“Shall I remind you, Mr. Bradshaw, you’re in the presence of a lady and you should refrain from insinuating such scandalous remarks.” Biting his lip, Bradley leans down to hoarsely whisper, grinning at the gasp she releases when she feels his breath hit her ear.

“I don’t recall you reminding me this morning…”

The heat Y/n felt rivaled a fire in a chimney. Consuming her with every inch of her being, she could do nothing but grin while Bradley hid his face in her neck, peppering kisses throughout.

For the next hour they laid on one of the benches, talking of what their lives would be together as the stars danced above them. Y/n pointing out constellations from time to time, making a point to identify Sirius, the brightest star of all. They laughed. They kissed. They dreamed of the future. What their house would look like, “At least two stories. With a big backyard and a dining table to fit ten people.” How many kids they’d have, “Two would be nice, but I wouldn’t mind three. A little mini you and me running around.” If they’ll have animals, “a dog of course. Ooh—a chicken to have fresh eggs for breakfast and possibly a couple of goats.”

It was perfect. Complete and utter bliss.

But that disappeared in the blink of an eye. Right as the clock struck 11:40 pm.

“What’s happening?” Y/n lifted off of Bradley’s chest, sitting up straight by the sound of people shouting on the decks above. Following her suit, Bradley made a motion to stand when he caught sight of Jake and Natasha running toward them.

“What is it?”

“It’s hard to tell,” Jake was out of breath, face red with worry. “But I think I heard someone yell about an iceberg—.” An ugly sound rocketed before Jake could finish his sentence. Jolting movement on the ship deck had them all stumble, Y/n clutching onto Bradley’s side as his arm met her waist. Moments later an intimidatingly large iceberg appeared in their view. Slowly moving as the ship literally whined with effort to avoid collision. But it was to no avail as more striking sounds of ice hitting metal echoed in the night. Pieces fell onto the deck, the four moving slightly aback.

Moments later the ship's engines stopped. Dazed and confused by what they witnessed. Titanic had hit an iceberg. A large one at that. The sound alone was an indicator of how bad the collision was. Stressed shouts of crew members only further confirmed it.

They were left to wonder what would happen next. Were they waiting for the crew to assess the damage before restarting the engines? Would they even be able to? Were they already sending signals to other ships about their collision?

Leaning over the railing, Y/n found the reflection of Titanic’s lights staring back at her. The water was eerily calm, no doubt below freezing. Several other icebergs could be made out in the distance surrounding the ship if she squinted her eyes. With no moon in the sky it made it difficult to see.

Y/n anxiety increased when the thought crossed her mind, ‘Are we going to sink?’ She removed the thought as it appeared. No. There’s no way the Titanic would sink. She was deemed unsinkable by everyone involved in the making of her. She was designed to remain afloat even if four water compartments were flooded.

‘It’ll be alright,’ Y/n thought silently, trying to convince herself more than anything.

But that didn’t last long when Bradley and Jake’s friends rushed over not even twenty minutes later, their nightwear drenched in water and fear coating their eyes. “It’s flooding down there,” Mickey huffed, “all over the floors.” Passengers filled the deck, families huddled together as they awaited information. Mickey’s news sent dread to the young women. Flooding was never a good sign.

Something in Y/n’s gut was telling her to find her family. “I-I need to go,” she glanced at Natasha first and then Bradley, “I should find my father. T-they may know more on the upper deck a-and are not telling us how serious it is down here.” Bradley looked hesitant to let her go, Y/n’s voice turning softer, “I’ll come back. I promise I will—a-and I’ll find out what’s happening.”

“I’ll go with you,” Nat removed herself from Jake, the man wearing the same face as Bradley. “We should go now while the crew are distracted.” Without consulting further, Y/n picked up the skirt of her dress and hurried away with Natasha trailing behind. They made it past each deck, racing up the grand staircase to the level Y/n’s parents were to find them in evident distress. Several other members of their circle were also there.

One look at her father and Y/n’s heart dropped to her stomach. “Dad…” it took everything to remain calm, realizing her hands started to shake when he took them in hers. “What’s happening?” He didn’t want to admit the truth she already knew, but as she squeezed his hands the words left him, confirming the worst.

“Titanic’s taking on water,” the choked gasp was audible no matter how hard she tried to hide it. Her father squeezed her hand, “They’re preparing the lifeboats—you two should go gather some belongings to take with you.” At the mention of lifeboats Y/n mentally thought back to the ones she’d seen lining the ship deck. Counting, her heart further shrieked at the number she summed.

“There's only twenty,” she whispered, horror on her face. “T-there’s got to be three thousand people on this ship. Wha-what—how are they going to save everyone?!” Her voice grew louder with each word. Suddenly she went quiet, the realization hitting her. Behind her Natasha gasped, also realizing the obvious.

All the lifeboats were on the boat deck. Right above the first-class one.

“O-oh my God. They’re not going to be able to save everyone.”

“Y/n—,” her hands slipped from his grasp, “Y/n!!” She was running, skirts dragging along her ankles as she hurried down the path she’d just come from. Urgent footsteps behind her signaled Natasha following, the two women bumping into people without apologizing. Tears lined her eyes the entire way, wishing it was all a horrible nightmare she was going to awake from at any moment.

When she finally found Bradley she collided with him, oblivious to the fact his trousers were soaked in water. Too frantic she made no mind to ask where it came from. “We’re sinking,” she cried against his chest. Even in his arms it did nothing to ease her fear. “The ship’s sinking.”

“Wh-at? No, that’s not possible.”

“She’s unsinkable!”

“It must be a mistake—I’m sure they are working it out as we speak.”

It was utter chaos from then on out. Minutes passed where slowly the passengers would realize the extent of the situation. Cries of children and babies were heard, their parents attempting to calm them despite their own emotions surfacing. Y/n rushed to her suite with Bradley, the man unable to contain his awe at how luxurious the first-class compartments were. He stood like a fish out of water as she flung open her small makeup bag to place her diary, ticket, the few photos she had, and whatever small compatible items Y/n thought were valuable. Clothing and anything else could be replaced.

The door flying open caused her to shriek, Bradley stepping back when Y/n’s father appeared in the doorway. He let out an audible sigh of relief when his eyes landed on her, “Where have you been?” He stepped further into the room, Y/n’s mother and brother trailing behind. All froze at the sight of Bradley standing with her, her father being the only one to recognize him.

“Who’s this?” Said her mother, not shying from looking Bradley up and down. It made him blush, glancing at Y/n for help. But she was also at a loss for words.

“This is the boy I was telling you about. Now as much as I wish we were meeting in any other circumstance,” her father strolled up, closing the bag for Y/n and pulling into his hands while using his free hand to gently push her toward the door, “We need to get to the boat deck this instant.” As they were coming out they met Natasha and Jake, Bradley asking his friend where the others were.

“I don’t know,” Jake stressfully removed his messenger boy hat to run a hand through his hair, “Mickey went to find that girl he’d been shacking up with and Javy I-I thought was behind me.” Bradley gulps, sweat pooling at his hairline.

“We’ll find them,” he firmly states. “We’ll find them all.”

When they reached the boat deck they were faced with the grim reality. Less than two dozen lifeboats would not be enough to get Titanic’s 2,500 passengers to safety. She was going to take many down with her. Time was their emissary. Slowly ticking away by the second.

Coming to the end of the first hour since impact, Bradley brings Y/n’s attention to him when he sees they were only allowing women and children into the boats. Crew members were telling passengers it was only minor damage and they were only putting them in the boats for precaution. Sparks from flares shot into the sky, with hope neighboring ships would notice.

Bradley stared deeply into the eyes he loved, “Marry me.” The question stops the world around them, Y/n’s eyes becoming wide as saucers.

“W-what?”

“Marry me, Y/n,” his tone is serious. “Right now on this ship. Under the stars you love while in front of your family and our friends—i-if tonight…” he trails off, voice becoming shaky. It brings tears to Y/n’s eyes at what he was trying to say. “If tonight is my last night I don’t want to waste another second.” The reason he said ‘my’ instead of ‘our’ last night was knowing deep in his heart Y/n would likely survive instead of him. She would get on a boat and hopefully be rescued.

“Yes,” she whispered, no sign of hesitation in the answer. All the love she felt emitting with one word.

And so the unthinkable happened not a mere ten minutes later. Y/n standing in front of Bradley, hands entwined as the ship’s Chaplin read off vows they repeated. Y/n’s family had tears in their eyes, as did Natasha, Jake, and their friends—who managed to find them at the right moment. Other passengers stopped and stared, some looking on with unreadable expressions, mostly women who found the sight bittersweet. It was almost fitting considering Y/n was wearing a near-white dress.

When asked about exchanging rings Y/n went to say, “no rings,” but Bradley stopped her.

“I have this actually,” his hand goes to his trouser pocket, “It’s not a ring but I think it’ll do.” Removing what could only be described as the most beautiful necklace Y/n had laid eyes on, her mouth parted in disbelief. Diamonds lined the chain, coming down to surround a large blue heart-shaped gem. “It’s a diamond,” Bradley said softly, making Y/n’s eyes widen even more. Wondering how he acquired such a magnificent piece of jewelry that looked like it was worth more than anything she owned.

He must’ve read her mind because Bradley was quick to explain, “My father gave this to my mother when he proposed to her. He got it from his mother, who received it from his father on their wedding day. He never told me how our family came into possession of it, but I once heard him refer to it as the ‘Heart of the Ocean’.” How fitting when they were in the middle of the ocean, and Y/n had become the owner of his heart. “It’s been passed down from Bradshaw to Bradshaw as a gift from a husband to wife. My mother made sure to give it to me before she died,” bringing the necklace around her neck while still facing her, Bradley secured it into place, adjusting it so the heart laid on her chest. Above her own beating heart. “And now it’s yours.”

Hand coming up to her chest, Y/n felt the smooth cut edges of the diamond, tears falling from her eyes. “It’s beautiful,” she croaked, sniffing from the overwhelming emotion. “Thank you. I’ll protect it with my life. H-how did you—.”

“Before you came back to find me I made sure to grab it from my room.” So that’s why his pants were soaked. He went to get the necklace before the compartment flooded.

“I-I,” she stuttered, glancing behind to peer at her father. “I don’t have anything—.”

“Worry not, my dear girl,” the watch he always wore unclipped from his wrist. It was his favorite one, the only item he splurged on before they became wealthy. And now he was given it to Y/n’s husband.

“I can’t take this,” Bradley goes to object, but her father silences him. Y/n kisses the older man’s cheek, whispering “thank you,” as she takes the watch before placing it onto Bradley’s wrist.

“By the power invested in me,” the two hold hands once more, letting the tears fall freely. “I now pronounce you husband and wife,” the Chaplin turns to Bradley, “You may kiss your bride.”

Warm hands cup Y/n’s cheek, lips meeting in the middle to seal the act. No longer was she kissing the handsome stranger who caught her eye aboard the ship of dreams. She was kissing her husband. The man she was to grow old with. To explore the world. Raise children together.

Their fairytale was only beginning. But tragedy was on the horizon. Ending the journey before it could start.

Their friends clapped and cheered, her mother cried. Passengers and crew members witnessing offered nods of congratulations. Before long the happy moment was gone and replaced with the dread once more at the reality facing them. At first Y/n thought Jake and Natasha would marry next, spotting a ring on her friend’s left hand.

“It’s his class ring,” Natasha softly said, admiring the jewelry with glistening eyes. “I told him I’ll marry him once we reach land.” Taking her hand, Y/n squeezes and offers a small, encouraging smile, “We’ll make it the wedding of your dreams.”

The hour reached a half after one, almost two whole since the iceberg struck Titanic. They all gathered to the edge of the boat deck, Y/n’s father ordering her, her mother, and Natasha to put one on. As they did they could hear the crew member shout the same thing he’d been shouting the last hour and half. “Women and children! I need women and children!”

It was then Y/n realized why her father and Bradley were slowly moving them closer. “No,” she whispered, turning fully around. Over Bradleys shoulder she spotted her father speaking to her mother. Behind her children were crying out for their daddies. “I’m not going without you.” His hands met her shoulders. “Don’t ask me to get in that boat, Bradley.”

“You have to.”

“No.”

He squeezed her jacket clad shoulders, “Y/n, please do this for me. Get in the boat with your mother and Natasha. You guys will be safer there.”

“And leave you here!” She shouted, not caring who heard. Here was her newly wedded husband saying goodbye. “You married me not even ten minutes ago—a-and you’re already telling me to leave!?”

“As your husband I’m ensuring you make it off this ship safely! That is my priority—that you’re safe!” His own voice raises, hand going to Y/n’s jaw to force her to look at him when she fights his hold. Bradley was doing his best to keep calm for her sake, not wanting her last image of him to be where he’s scared out of his mind. Though the crew made efforts to conceal the truth, Bradley wasn’t blind. The water was rising closer to the deck, submerging the lower floors past the point of fixing.

Titanic was sinking.

“Don’t ask me to leave you,” Y/n closed her eyes, lip trembling to hold back the sob threatening to escape. “My heart won’t go on without you, Bradley.” It wouldn’t allow her to. Bradley was the keeper of her entire soul. Losing him would destroy her.

“Look at me,” his thumb caressed her cheek, running over her bottom lip to wipe the stray tear. When her eyes opened, Bradley brought her into a kiss. “I’ll find you,” he said pulling away, “Get it in that boat and I promise I will find you when this is all over. I won’t stop till I do.”

“N-no—.”

“I promise you, baby,” he says again, tightening the hold on her. “I will see you again.”

A choked sob left Y/n, pressing her lips to his desperately, the taste of salt hitting her tongue from the tears mixing in. “O-okay.”

“Okay,” he repeated, offering a watery smile. “Hey, I’m the luckiest bastard in the world. You’ve made me so.” They kiss once more, Y/n being passed to her father. She leaps into his arms, shaking against him when he tells her he’ll always love her and to take care of her mother.

“Thank you, daddy,” she cries, nuzzling her face into his chest and not wanting to let go. She didn’t have to explain because he already knew the meaning behind her words. ‘Thank you for trusting me. Thank you for always believing in me. Thank you for letting me open my heart to him and giving your blessing. Thank you for loving me.’

“I love you, my dear girl,” his lips meet the crown of her head. “I’ll see you soon.”

After hugging goodbye to her brother, who was refused by crew to board with them since he was seventeen and viewed as a young man rather than a child, Y/n followed behind Natasha and her mother onto the lifeboat. A crew member assisted, taking her hand, “watch your step, madam,” Y/n’s heart raced with each step, falling to the seat on the edge of the aisle, closest to where Bradley stood.

“I love you!” He shouted to her, going as far to lean over the railing of the ship, Y/n rising enough from her seat to offer one last kiss. It was brief, but she poured all her emotion behind it. A shout from the man in charge of the lifeboat yelled for her to sit and Y/n unwillingly listened. All the way down Y/n kept her eyes on Bradley, briefly meeting those of her father and brother. Jake was next to her husband, no doubt watching Natasha seated next to her.

Even when they landed on the water Y/n could not relax. As the crewmen paddled them away, the sight of Titanic was more frightening than she imagined. Growing worse by the minute. The dark blue section of Titanic lower levels were nearly submerged leaving only the decks above the surface.

“I thought it was unsinkable,” a lady gasped, making murmurs of worry echo among the passengers. Y/n shared a look with Natasha, finding the same emotion etched in the other's eyes. It increased when an unpleasant noise filled their ears, snapping their heads to see the rear of Titanic rising in the air, the front completely foregone in the sea. Without realizing it Y/n had stood from her seat, face wretched with horror.

“Oh my God.”

Hands flew to her mouth, gasps radiating behind at the sight of Titanic going dark. Barely could Y/n make out the vessel due to little light without the moon. It made Y/n strain her eyes, desperate to see what was happening. Praying to whoever above Bradley and her family aboard was on the side of the ship still afloat. Y/n’s breathing increased, feeling Natasha stand beside her.

Everything happened so fast after that. What sounded like gunshots rang out mixed with the screams of those still aboard fighting to make it in time to the rear of the ship. Metal and wood crunching caused bile to fill in her mouth, feeling nauseated by the overwhelming panic.

Whimpers escaped Y/n, becoming full force sobs when a horrible *crack* echoed in the night. Titanic had been split in half. And though hard to see in the dark, the sound alone of the moaning ship sent her into despair. Within minutes the rear half of Titanic lifted once more, fully disappearing out of view forever, leaving the cries of her passengers stranded in the 26 degree water desperately fighting to stay alive.

Y/n dropped to her knees, cries mixing with everyone else. The scene was too much to handle. Screams echoing in the darkness, utter misery to show the terror. She didn’t want to imagine how many people were trapped when the ship sank. All she pictured was Bradley’s face. His smile when the lifeboat descended. That one last look of love.

Then Y/n thought of her father and brother. Were they already at the bottom of the ocean? Or were they part of the hundreds screaming in the distance? The sound that was slowly becoming lower signaling their battle was with cold water was ending. Whatever the case Y/n didn’t want to picture their dead bodies—the thought only made her more devastated.

She cried for her mother. She cried for Natasha—who was in the same state as her. She cried for those on the lifeboat. But mostly Y/n cried for herself. For what could have been

For what should have been.

The screams soon drowned out. Leaving a ghostly silence as Y/n’s sobs returned to whimpers. Soon the exhaustion took over and she fell asleep against her mother’s chest. The cold air was a painful reminder of what had taken place. When Y/n awoke it was to the sounds of engines and for a moment she thought it had all been a nightmare. She’d find herself in bed with the sun peering in from the window. Hearing the footsteps of passengers leaving their suits to attend breakfast. And she’d go about her day the same way until it came time to see Bradley.

But it wasn’t a dream. Confirmed when her eyes opened to the dark skies turning an array of colors from the sun rising in the east. First she felt panic, then came the anguish and soon she was silently crying as her heart broke in two, hand coming to hold the diamond on her chest.

RMS Carpathia was their saving Grace. Y/n was pretty much a walking shell of a woman, reluctantly allowing the crew to help her onto the ship. A blanket was placed around her shoulders, a hot tea in her hand, the saucer shaking from her slight tremor. Guiding her mother and Natasha to a spot away from others, Y/n made no effort to drink the tea. She had no energy even though it would warm her up.

A piece of her was missing—forever lost in the ocean.

People stood at the entryway of where passengers were coming in. Hoping to find their loved ones among the survivors. Seeing Natasha peek around to get a better look, Y/n plainly said, “What are you doing?” Her tone was void of emotion, depicting her mental state.

“I heard someone say one of the lifeboats went back—they were searching for survivors in the water.” Instantly a wave of hope rose within her though Y/n was careful to not let it grow. Scared it’d only be met with heartbreak.

But then sandy hair caught her vision causing the teacup to fall from her hand, contents splashing onto the deck. “Y/n?” She ignored her mother, moving to stand on top of the bench a few feet away to overlook the crowd. Heart racing, she desperately searched for the owner of the sandy hair. She didn’t have to search too long.

“BRADLEY!!” The strangled cry escaped her, the man that stood roughly thirty feet away spinning around in a flash he nearly broke his neck. Y/n could see a girl resembling her beside him, Bradley possibly thinking it’d been her and was disappointed to find it wasn’t. Their eyes met, a mix of astonishment and relief, but most of all pure love pouring into their expression.

“Bradley!” Y/n yelled again, dropping from the bench just as he started to run in her direction. It was like slow motion. Y/n pushing through the crowd, frantically keeping her eyes on him to not lose sight.

“Y/n!” She heard him yell. The crowd between them separated and not a moment later Y/n was leaping into his arms, a sound mixed between a cry and laugh falling from her mouth.

“Oh God,” it was really him. He smelled of sea salt and shook like a leaf, but it was him, Y/n pulling away from the embrace just to make sure. “It’s really you.” His hands cupped her cheek, the feeling all too familiar.

“It’s me.”

“Y-you….I thought you were dead!” A tear trailed her cheek, his thumb moving to wipe it. “I saw the ship sink—and I could not see where you’d gone. How—?”

“The boat that came back,” he started to explain, voice shaking from the cold making Y/n stop a man with teacups, handing one to her husband. “I-I was on a piece of driftwood. It kept me from being…being in the water—.” He gulped, flinching as his eyes watered before closing them. Like he was trying to avoid the painful memory.

Now it was Y/n’s turn to hold his face, offering comfort in the best way she could.

“I-I tried get-getting them on but it was too small for a-all of us. Y-your….” He didn’t want to meet her eyes, shame and guilt visible in his face. “Your father wouldn’t get on—no matter h-how much I told him to. Your brother…” he trailed off, tears spilling from his eyes and Y/n brushed them away while fighting her own. Understanding what Bradley was trying to tell her. “And the others…..wh-what they held onto wasn’t enough to keep them out. I-I thought they’d be okay—I kept calling to them when I saw the boat—b-but they wouldn’t—they wouldn’t answer.” The last word ended with a sob, Bradley’s head dropping down onto Y/n’s shoulders as she held him.

They cried together, Y/n cradling the back of his neck with a hand and feeling the rock of his shoulders against her. Mourning the loss of their friends and family. Y/n grieving the death of her father and brother. When her mother and Natasha arrived, both with hopeful eyes turning into despair in seconds. Seeing Bradley in her arms knowing he was on the boat with the other survivors pulled from the water. Neither Jake nor Y/n’s father and brother with him.

Y/n felt Bradley remove himself from her hold. He looked broken, a shell of a man. Placing a hand in his pocket, they watched him take out an item they couldn’t make out. Only when he unfolded it did they realize what it was.

Jake’s hat.

Natasha let out a gut wrenching weep, covering her face with the hat when Bradley handed it to her before falling to her knees. “I’m so sorry,” a fresh wave of tears threatened to escape, Bradley unable to look at her without feeling the guilt for not saving the man she loved. Y/n moved to hold her friend, Natasha clutching onto her forearm while her mother silently grieved beside them.

All around them was a similar scene. Haunting and dreary. Completely different from the joyous celebration not even a week prior when Titanic sailed off on her maiden voyage. Carrying close to 2,300 people across the Atlantic. Some traveling to America for the first time or were on their way home. Now at least 700 of those passengers were on the Carpathia while the other 1,400 belonged to the sea.

The ship’s crew went around to collect names. Recording them to make it easier when going through the logs when they docked to account for all who survived and persisted. Y/n nearly forgot what name she was supposed to give. Boarding Titanic as a L/n but leaving as a Bradshaw. At the crew man’s confused eyes by the hyphenated name she gave Y/n simply stated, “We married as she sank, but the records will show Y/n L/n.”

Three days. It took three days for Carpathia to arrive in New York. The Statue of Liberty greeted her like an old friend, the people she carried unable to enjoy the scenery they’d been anticipating for so long. The sky rained as though it were crying in mourning. Grieving the lost souls instead of welcoming them.

When the ship docked, Y/n held onto her bag in one hand and Bradley’s arm on the other. Her mother and Natasha followed behind, displaying their grief in every movement. Stepping foot onto the pavement, Y/n let out a breath she’d been holding, feeling only a glimmer of relief at the fact they were home. “What now?” Bradley squeezed her hand, conveying everything in the simple gesture.

“We go on,” he admires the skyline briefly, settling his eyes on hers. “As best as we can we go on. We go on for them.”

“My mother was never the same after that night,” the cracking of wood in the fireplace echoed behind Y/n’s words while she sat on the couch beside Bradley in their sunken living room. Cynthia was across from them, wiping at her puffy face from time to time. Unable to control her emotions.

Y/n’s left middle finger unconsciously traced over the jewelry on her right hand. Her mother’s wedding rings. And nestled beneath her blouse was the necklace worth more than what remained of her family’s fortune.

“She nearly sent herself into an early grave trying to stabilize the business my father built from the ground up. Difficult to do back then when men wouldn’t respect a woman's authority,” Y/n smiles fondly at the memory of her mothers strong willed temperament. “My mother was an intelligent woman. She always prepared for the worst at times. And when deciding what to do about the company, she wanted to make sure our family would be okay if disaster were to strike again. It was like she predicted the fall of the stock market—-preventing us from being affected by selling our shares and interests years before the crash even happened.”

Cynthia thought of her grandmother. How hard it must’ve been to lose her husband and son so suddenly then having to become the face of the family. Her daughter discovering she hadn’t bleed since the week prior to boarding Titanic, the family doctor confirming the pregnancy not a day later. Never remarrying despite the many suitors itching to get a hand on the L/n fortune. Cynthia thought of how her grandmother would wake up bright and early every morning to watch the sunrise. Remembering the smell of her perfume and taking Cynthia and her sister to her favorite bistro for afternoon tea. Teaching them how to be independent women. Even on her deathbed as the illness consumed her right as America joined the Second World War, Y/n’s mother never lost her strength. Thinking of the memories had Cynthia missing her.

“And what about Natasha?” In all the years she’d been alive, Cynthia only heard her parents mention Natasha a handful of times. Each one was met with a distant look in her mother’s eyes, followed by grief until she thought of a happy memory associated with her, causing a small smile to form on her Y/n’s lips.

“She was never the same either,” the answer came with a sad exhale. “After reuniting with her family, Natasha spent several weeks at their family home. I visited her often while I finished my studies and did my best to comfort her in any way she needed. She ended up accepting Alan’s marriage proposal, but on the condition that they travel across America first before being wed. The journey would last several months, but in the end they wedded in Manhattan in the winter of 1913 and welcomed a son and daughter soon after,” the memory of Y/n holding Natasha’s son in the hospital flashed in her mind. “They were happy. As happy as they could be. But Alan, the amazing man he was, knew he couldn’t live up to what Jake was to her. The impact he made on Natasha’s heart. Yes, she grew to love Alan eventually—the birth of their children being the main reason she did—but he was not her true love. And he accepted that,” Y/n felt the lump form in her throat. As it always did when she thought about what came next for her friend.

Bradley’s hand rested on her knee, offering consultation knowing it was hard for her to think about Natasha. Her fingers interlaced with his, swallowing back the lump.

“After the end of the War—the first one—Natasha was traveling with her children home from a weekend visiting her parents. It was late and raining, difficult to see….a vehicle ran the sign and plowed straight into them.” Cynthia didn’t hear the soft gasp leave her mouth, her mother’s own tightening to prevent her lip from quivering. “She was gone instantly. Her children too. Alan was a mess as you can imagine—drowning himself in alcohol daily until I stepped in….”

“Wake up, Alan!” Y/n’s palm met his cheek after knocking the bottle from his hand. “What is the matter with you? Is this how you want to die?” She gripped the labels of his stained dress shirt to make him look at her, voice rising with each word. “By wasting away like some goddamn bum when you could be living for them. By continuing on instead of disgracing yourself or their memory. Natasha could have done what you’re doing when Jake died. And she watched him go down, unable to do anything and hear his screams go quiet as he lost his battle with survival. How do you think she dealt with that? She had every reason to not go on. Let the grief consume her and become the shallow of the person you’re on your way toward. But she didn’t!” Y/n let her emotion release. “She went on—she lived for him! And built a life with you—and you may not believe it but Natasha did love you, Alan. Maybe not the way you wished, but she loved you and you are disgracing it by doing this to yourself! Honor her and your children by finding the strength to live for them. Because so help me God, Alan, I will not watch you waste whatever is left of your life like this. You will die alone with no one to show up when it comes time to be there. The choice is yours.”

“Did he?” Cynthia couldn’t help but ask, “Did he eventually learn to cope?”

“He did,” Y/n smiled. It was a genuine one to show she was happy her friend made it through his hard times. “Alan moved to London about a month after that visit. He wrote to us often, telling about his adventures in England and even traveling across the channel to France where he continued exploring Europe. In 1921 he met a nice woman and married. They had a son and permanently resided in London,” Y/n’s tone went lower, the smile slightly falling. “The letters stopped coming in 1943–during the Second War. I do not know to this day what happened to him. If the bombings claimed them or if he died of disease,” she sadly shrugs, “I only hope he was happy with his life. That despite losing Natasha and their kids he was able to find peace.”

“I’m sure he did,” Bradley finally enters the conversation, having been quiet for most of the time and only adding input during the moments Y/n wasn’t there for. Keeping his experience in the water after Titanic sunk short and limited. While he learned to accept what happened and cope with the grief of watching his friends die in front of him, Bradley still felt the open wound in his heart. “You stepping in is what saved him. Had you not said what you did that day, I confidently believe Alan wouldn’t have made it to the next year. Going to London saved him. All he needed was a strong push.”

A moment of silence passed between them before Cynthia broke it. “Do you think they’ll one day find her?” At the confused looks she received her voice went softer, “Titanic. Do you think she’ll ever be located?” She watched her parents take a sharp breath, like they had never thought of the idea.

“Well…” Y/n brought a hand to rub her shoulder, unconsciously moving it to touch her necklace. “I predict she’d be in the place where she sank, at the bottom of the Atlantic. Either in two pieces,” she winced, “or held together by whatever was able to withstand the pressure.”

“I’m sure if the government or whoever is that interested would be able to locate her,” Bradley comments, rubbing Y/n’s knuckles with his thumb. “But I don’t know if we’ll ever see it happen.”

The rest of the evening was filled with Cynthia hearing stories of her parents' lives before Titanic. Laughter fell between them as Bradley relayed the times he and his friends had gotten into trouble on occasion. Y/n talked about her adventures with Natasha while in college and how her father went from a working class man to one made of riches. How her brother was a mischievous child, playing pranks on the higher-class members who would say mean things about their family. Bradley spoke of Pete, his Godfather, and of his parents who were the reason he went to England in the first place in 1912 to fulfill a dream they once wished of.

When it came time to call it a night, Cynthia kissed her parents on the cheek and departed to her room, thanking them for everything and being open with her. Once in their room Y/n removed her necklace, admiring it like she always did before bed and placed it on its holding, letting her thumb run over the smooth surface. On his side Bradley unfastened his watch, placing it next to the framed sepia photo of Y/n from their official wedding day that took place in May of 1912. Next to it were other photos, some black and white, of them over the years after Titanic. Y/n in her graduation gown. Their daughters as children and teenagers, on their wedding days and the birth of their grandchildren.

Tucked into the covers, Y/n smiled at the feeling of Bradley placing a kiss on her forehead. “You okay, doll?”

“I’m good,” she answered, leaning up to press her lips to his jaw. “Are you?”

“I am. More than what I thought I’d be. But you know,” his hand goes to take hers. “Having been so many years and with you by my side every day since, It’s made it easier. When I think about that night I still feel some guilt, but I don’t let it control me. Now when I have so much to live for. You, our daughters and grandchildren. Them.” He didn’t have to say their names for her to know who he was referring to.

Reuben, Javy, Mickey, Bob, Jake, Natasha, her father, her brother.

They didn’t get to experience the lives they should’ve had. So in their place, Y/n and Bradley live everyday like it’s their last. Making it count so when they reunite with them they’ll have plenty of stories to share.

“Me too,” she whispers, curling into him so her head rested on his chest. The gentle beat of his heart filled her ears, bringing ease to the old woman as she drifted off to sleep. Echoing the words Bradley spoke to her the night they docked in New York.

“We go on. We go on for them.”

54 years later. April 2012.

Amelia stared at the pictures lining the wall, under the giant lettering that read First-Class. Hazel eyes drifting over each, reading the words inscribed on the plaques before moving to the next. When she landed on the one she searched for, her gaze turned soft. The black and white picture depicted the woman at a young age, the most eye-catching detail being the heart-shaped diamond around her neck. A moment later Amelia felt movement on either side of her.

“Is that her, Nana?” Her granddaughter, Melody, asked from her right. On her left was Melody’s mother, Amelia’s daughter, Y/n. Named after the woman on the plaque in front of them.

“It is, darling.” Together they read the writing detailing her grandmother’s fate following April 15th, 1912.

Y/n L/n: February 14, 1890 — December 1, 1985

Daughter of New York real estate developer, Y/f/n L/n and his wife Y/m/n L/n. Set sail from Southampton with her parents and younger brother.

Boarded Titanic at age 21.

Passed away at age 95.

Married third-class passenger Bradley Bradshaw aboard Titanic on April 15, 1912 as she sank. Graduated NYU May 1912. Moved to Virginia Beach, Virginia. Two daughters. Published romantic thrillers and a best-selling autobiography. Returned to Titanic wreckage site at age 95 in October 1985. Died from heart failure two months later.

“Wow,” Melody breathed, letting her eyes admire the beautiful woman in the photograph. Her great-great grandmother. When the idea of going to the Titanic museum on the 100th anniversary of the wreck came to her for her school project, Melody had no idea of her linkage to the disaster until the night before when her grandma Amelia said she had a confession to tell her. The whole night was spent sitting in their hotel room with Amelia relaying the story her grandmother Y/n told her when she was 12 before revealing the events of April 15th when she was 18.

Amelia’s own daughter, named after the woman who made a lasting impact on her life, hadn’t heard the tale either. She was just as shocked as Melody to learn her great-grandparents were on Titanic when she sank.

Originally Melody’s idea for her project was to discuss the impact on society the disaster made. But after hearing the story of how her great-great grandparents fell in love aboard the ship, married while it sank, and reunited on Carpathia and lived their lives in memory of the ones they lost, Melody shifted her idea, Focusing on how even when all hope seems to be lost, love finds a way to break through.

“She was beautiful.”

“She was. My grandpa said she was the most beautiful person aboard,” Amelia chuckled. “Though I think his best friend Jake would say otherwise.” Natasha, her grandmother's best friend, came to mind. Amelia takes a moment to point out Natasha’s plaque where they read her unfortunate fate. “It was love at first sight—as cliché as it sounds, but it’s the truth. Four days was all it took for my grandparents to fall in love. Waiting every detail in her diary. Marrying during the moment everyone was in a panic.” Together the three women stepped over to the opposite side of the wall where the third-class survivor plaques were. There Amelia found her grandfather’s handsome face near the top.

Bradley Bradshaw: June 10th, 1889 — September 5th, 1985

Traveled to New York from Southampton with his friends from childhood. Only one to survive after being pulled from the water having climbed onto driftwood after Titanic fully submerged.

Boarded Titanic at age 21.

Passed away at age 96.

Married first-class passenger Y/n L/n aboard Titanic on April 15, 1912 as she sank. Moved to Virginia Beach, Virginia. Two daughters. Became a fighter pilot for US Navy 1914. Drafted into First World War 1915. Died in his sleep four days after the wreckage of Titanic was discovered 1985.

Amelia’s smile was bittersweet, “My mother told me shortly after I learned the full story that she discovered their secret when she found her mother’s ticket tucked away in a box of newspaper clippings about the wreck. NOt too long later my grandmother shared with her the diary detailing her first-hand experiences on Titanic. The night they told her was the first time they had told the story from start to finish—telling it once again the night my grandmother shared with my sister and I how they met. Only she left out the details of that night for the sake we were too young to understand,” Amelia paused, her gaze still on her grandfather’s image. “They told us the rest when I was eighteen. After that, I don’t think I ever heard them mention Titanic until the news broke out that the shipwreck had been discovered. Four days later, my grandfather died in his sleep. His heart just stopped,” Amelia went quiet after adding. “It was like he was waiting.”

Though quiet the entire time, Amerlia’s daughter Y/n was deep in thought. Thinking back to her childhood and the short ten years she got to spend with her great-grandparents. Having been named after Y/n, they two shared a connection and even got the chance to wear the beautiful diamond necklace she always had around her neck. Little Y/n had been shielded from the media attention the family was receiving in the months after Titanic’s discovery. First the death of Bradley, then the elderly Y/n went on a secret trip she had no idea was about. Ending the year by attending her funeral that winter.

Knowing what she did now, Y/n understood why her family reacted a certain way whenever the famous ship was ever mentioned in conversation.

Melody read over the information, frowning slightly. “Do you think she died of a broken heart? Your grandma?”

“Oh I’m certain,” Amelia traveled back a few paces to see Y/n’s plaque. Careful to not bump into other guests in the exhibit. The significance of the day brought many visitors to the museum.

“Being with someone for seventy-four years..how could she go on? My mother feared the journey to the wreck site would kill her, but my grandmother was adamant she’d go. She and my grandfather never believed they’d be alive to witness the ship be located. With his death four days after, my grandmother fulfilled an unspoken promise between them. So she went with my mother and aunt—ninety five years old remember, and saw the waters one last time. One thing you should know is my grandmother never crossed the Atlantic again after 1912. My grandfather did, because of the war, but I think Y/n was waiting until Titanic was located to travel the sea again. A part of her soul was left behind that night—losing the father she adored and her brother. Then you had my grandfather’s best friends.” She took another pause, hands moving to her pockets where she felt the leather bound diary.

Y/n’s diary.

The one she wrote in her will that was to be donated to the Titanic museum on April 15, 2012. Exactly 100 years to the day that the ship of dreams became one with the sea.

“Going to the site filled that final gaping hole in her. But the loss of her true love was too much for my grandmother. And so she passed in her sleep exactly three months to the day after Titanic was found.” Amelia removed the book from her pocket, hand softly touching the rough and dated surface of the leather. “Leaving me with this to fulfill some of her last wishes.”

“Is that…..” Melody leaned closer, her mother doing the same. Both were staring at the book with wonder and awe.

“Her diary,” the older woman confirmed their suspicions. “She wished for it to be donated here on the centennial anniversary,” Amelia gave her granddaughter a look, “I didn’t plan for you wanting to come here when I made sure to fulfill the promise. Having you two here is a bonus—especially now that you know everything.” Amelia could see in their eyes they were practically itching to open the book, wanting to see the contents that laid within.

Moving to a bench in the corner away from prying eyes, Amelia motioned for them to sit on either side of her. “The museum director is expecting me once we finish here so I must be careful with this. For preservation reasons, I’ll be the one to hold and turn the pages, but I’d love to share with you her words. And I know she would want the same,” glancing at the women, she received eager nods. “Alrighty then.”

Opening the cover, their eyes met the cursive writing that belonged to Amelia’s grandmother, her name in bold cursive, Y/n L/n. Amelia gently turned to the first page, dated one month before Titanic sailed on her maiden voyage.

“Monday, March 10, 1912. Father has come home with the news of his invitation to a conference in London next month. Not only has he informed my mother and I of his wishes for us to join him, but also he has purchased tickets for the White Star Line’s new vessel expected to set sail one month from today. They are calling her, Titanic…”

As Amerlia read off the words of her grandmother one last time, she wondered if her grandparents were back on the ship of dreams with their friends and family. Crossing the Atlantic in a place where time and space ceased to exist. Only the open ocean and the beautiful skies. Where Bradley was chasing a giggling Y/n down the corridors. Where Natasha got to live the life she dreamed with Jake. Their friends with them and Y/n’s family together at last.

It was a long wait full of patience. One seventy-four years in the making.

But as Y/n took her last breath on the night of December 1st, 1985, she was young and full of life, wearing the Heart of the Ocean as she ran to board the ship about to sail for a journey that would never end. Coming to the platform where a young Bradley stood, a spitting image of what he looked like the first time she laid eyes on him, his hand out for her to take. Behind him were the smiling faces of her family and friends—some of whom she hadn’t seen in seventy years, with the passengers of Titanic on the decks above. A beaming Natasha holding Jake’s hand, waving to Y/n as her children peeked from behind her legs.

Y/n locked eyes on her husband. The soulmate she had been without for three months. No words were spoken. Conversing everything they wanted to say in just the one look.

‘We’ve been waiting for ya, doll.’

‘I had to do something first.’

‘We know,’ a silent nod passes. ‘We were there with you.’ Gesturing his head to the ship as if to say, ‘You ready?’ Bradley stepped forward, hand still out for Y/n to take. Not even hesitating, Y/n grasped his warm palm in his, the feeling all too familiar as a spark of life shot through her chest.

Boarding Titanic together for the first and final time.

………………

TGM Tag List: @avaleineandafryingpan @caitsymichelle13 @poppyalice2001 @cutelittlepotatofry @luckyladycreator2 @americaarse @elenavampire21 @back-tooo-black @wildellaa

[thirteens-pocket-watch]

I've decided to compile all the small pieces of information about future episodes that RTD has given in his Letter from the Showrunner segments in DWM. I've only included things that can tell us something about the episode, so stuff like Bad Wolf investigating if using a certain title is permitted hasn't been included here. I've included the issue each point was given in and I will obviously update after future issues

(Last updated 14.09.24)

2023 Specials

The Star Beast

- Contains the words westerly, pelican and dreams (584)

- Page seven contains the line "Oh, Nerys and her big mouth!" (585)

- The reconstructed opening scene made from fan recordings of filming contains lines that were cut from the final version of the episode (595)

Wild Blue Yonder

- Contains the words wild, Southampton, vegetable, Flux, bean and starlight (585)

Extra

- RTD refers to a "terrifying scene with Sue" and two celebrity historical figures in the upcoming specials (596)

- None of the specials will air on the 1st, 17th or 23rd of November (596)

Series 14/Season 1

Space Babies (Episode 1)

- Contains the words roar, Glastonbury and conquistador (589)

- The title was said aloud in Star Trek: Picard 3 (590/591)

- Scene 11 is headed as INT. CONTROL ROOM and the stage directions say "THE DOCTOR and RUBY walk in to find a cool, sleek, metal CONTROL ROOM, full of CONSOLES" (598)

The Devil's Chord (Episode 2)

- Scene 10 is set INT. CANTEEN. DAY (585)

- Contains the words Liverpool, legions and non-diagetic (586)

- The title of the episode was revealed (598)

73 Yards (Episode 4)

- Had the line "I once went to the top of the Shard" cut from the script (589)

Rogue (Episode 6)

- Page 10 contains the line "I am ruined" and it is said by a character named Emily (598)

- When talking about watching the final mix of this episode, RTD threw in the quote "Live vivisection!" (602)

The Legend of Ruby Sunday (Episode 7)

- First line of the script is INT. COFFEE BAR, USA - DAY, 1947 (584)

- RTD said he recomends midnight viewing for this episode because "it's shocking, frankly, and there might be screaming!" (603)

Empire of Death (Episode 8)

- Contains the words kingdom, gold and Tigella (592)

- Contains the words terror, dust, pizza, Einstein, death and opera (598)

- One of the above words is also in the title (598)

Extra

- An unspecified episode had the word "sixpence" in the title before the plot about said sixpence was cut (591)

- There is a crucial scene, designated 27B, in an unspecified episode with an as-yet unannounced guest star (593)

- The aforementioned scene contains the debris of a fallen statue with an 8 foot tall head as part of the set (593)

- The last scene to be filmed for series 14 was a scene in the TARDIS in the "middle bit of the finale" (whether this is episode 7 or 8 is not specified) and the Doctor slides to the ground at some point during the scene (594)

- RTD says the following about the upcoming season: "Will we ever see Mondo Caroon? Where exactly is Bertie Lester? And how many people does it take to fly an asteroid hopper?" (603)

Series 15/Season 2

Episode 1

- Scene One features none of the regular cast (600)

Episode 2

- The episode features a guest star who's been in the show before but in a different role (600)

Episode 3

- RTD mentions that Ncuti Gatwa is rehearsing with a Special Guest Star for their 13th episode. I assumed he was referring to his 13th episode with Gatwa and didn't count the anniversary specials (597)

Episode 7

- RTD mentions a text message from Verada Sethu and says "(my reaction to Season 2, episode 7, Sc. 48 as her character faces... oh, you'll see!). I'd just said, what great rushes" (605)

Extra

- An unspecified episode contains the words garden, firmament and diploma (592)

- An unspecified episode contains the words radiation, moth and skiffle (597)

- The sets include a hotel, a chamber and a hospital (597)

- More sets are listed, including the UNIT OPs room, the Sundays' flat, "a set so real we could rent it out as its actual self" and an "absolute labyrinth of a set" (potentially an actual labyrinth based on a previous comment from director Makalla McPherson) (601)

- RTD confirmed that the 2025 season will not contain an episode celebrating 20 years of New Who (602)

- On the 8th March 2024, RTD claimed they were "shooting a scene that will live forever in Doctor Who history" (602)

- The "climax" of season 2 contains the words tinderbox, Croydon and threshold (603)

- RTD says "oh, I wish you could see that guest star" about the aforementioned episode (603)

- A "great guest star" is once more alluded to when RTD brings up Phil Collinson doing ADR with them in July (607)

- The director that the above mentioned ADR is being recorded for is Amanda Brotchie (607)

- RTD mentions a "particular shot of London (...) for FX work" and and "important drone shoot in a major city, thousands of miles away" for s2 (607)

[travllingbunny]

Hi! I love your posts and insights about the Wars of the Roses. Do you think you could talk a bit about Richard Duke of York? What do you think his character/life was like? Also re his and his sons appearance??

Hi! I'm sorry for taking so long to answer your ask, but I just couldn't find the time before. (I happen to currently have more free time than usual, due to particular circumstances.)

Thank you for asking about Richard, Duke of York, because I think he is a very interesting historical figure who gets usually overshadowed by his sons. If one day someone decides to make a new TV show or movie about the Wars of the Roses that doesn't just skip over the 1460s and start when Richard Duke of York is already dead, his life would make quite a compelling story.

As for historical books about him, I recommend Matthew Lewis' Richard, Duke of York: King by Right.(2016), which is a very detailed (but still very interesting, to me at least) account of his life. I read it a few years ago so I don't remember all the details, only the main points and overall impression I got from it.

My main impression is that, although he is often portrayed by pro-Lancaster writers as power-hungry, this is far from the truth. It seems unlikely that he ever wanted to challenge Henry VI and put himself forward as king, before the last year of his life - and this controversial act makes perfect sense when you look at the circumstances and the things that had happened to him and his family just before that. Besides, while Richard was for a long time - before Edward of Lancaster was born - Henry VI's heir, it seems more likely that he was hoping that his son would one day succeed Henry, rather than himself, since Henry was younger than him and in good physical health. Rather than the result of some evil overreaching lust for power, it seems to me that his conflict with the Lancaster/Beaufort faction was a result of the years of frustration over his treatment. As the conflict grew, staking his claim to the throne throne may have been an act of desperation (since, at that point, this must have seemed like the only way to protect himself and his family), but maybe he was also just really done with everything, and with Henry VI and unwilling to support him as King. Considering the context, I don't really think even pro-Henry VI people could really blame him.

But first I think we'd have to go back to the beginnings. I think that Richard's childhood and, most of all, what happened to his father, is what framed his whole life. Richard's mother, Anne Mortimer (great-granddaughter of Lionel, Duke of Clarence, the second of the sons of king Edward III who survived childhood), died soon after giving birth to him, aged only 22. His father, Richard, Earl of Cambridge (himself the grandson of Edward III through his 4th surviving son Edmund, the Duke of York), was executed - when Richard wasn't even 4 years old - for his involvement in the Southampton Plot to depose Henry V in favor of his brother-in-law, Edmund Mortimer (but since Edmund had no children, really in favor of his own son Richard, who would be his heir).

After all, the Lancasters, i.e., Henry V's father Henry IV , himself the son of Edward III's third son John of Gaunt, Duke of Lancaster, had deposed Richard II, skipping over the line of the elder son Lionel, so it could have been reasonably argued that the Mortimers's claim to the throne was stronger (sure, it was through the female line - but so was the English royals' claim to the throne of France - France had installed the Salic Law to bar the female lines from the throne of France - really to bar the English kings from it, but England did not). But Henry V was a crowned and annointed king, so trying to depose him would have been treason... (Even though he was only on the throne because his father had deposed, imprisoned and starved to death another annointed king. To quote one of my favorite TV shows, "Treason, like beauty, is in the eye of the beholder". But it's crucial whether you won or lost.)

Just a couple of months later, his uncle Edward, his father's elder brother, was killed without children, Richard became the heir to his lands and titles and became the Duke of York at the age of 4. Ten years later, after the death of his maternal uncle Edmund, he also became heir to the Mortimer estates.

So, young Richard grew up as an orphan but also one of the technically most powerful and richest people in England, and heir not just to titles and lands but also the claims to the throne from not just the 4th but also the 2nd son of Edward III (the latter being the senior line of succession after the deposition and death of Richard II) to rival the Lancaster dynasty. And at the same time, he lived in the shadow of the fact that his father had died as a traitor and rebel against the crown for pressing that same claim.

If I were to speculate about Richard's personality and how his upbringing shaped it, I think he was a person who tried hard to do everything right, to fulfil his duties in every way and be beyond reproach, exactly because he had so much responsibility and probably so much to prove. Something that really strikes me about Richard is that he seemed almost too perfect: competent, respected nobleman popular with the people, in a stable marriage, not known to have any mistresses or sexual transgressions, had seven children who survived childhood including four sons...What the contrast to Henry VI, a nice and pious man but notoriously disinterested in ruling (long before he started showing signs of mental ilness and became catatonic), prone to relying on favorites such as his extremely incompetent cousin Edmund Beaufort. and also, for a long time, unable to conceive a child with his wife Margaret of Anjou (and possibly uninterested in trying), before finally siring Edward.

And this is exactly why Richard must have come across as such a threat in the eyes of Queen Margaret, Edmund Beaufort and other people around Henry VI. How could they not be wary of his powerful man, Henry's cousin and heir, who had all the qualities you'd want in a king, which Henry lacked? However, if he was really power hungry and eager to replace Henry as king, he certainly didn't show that for many years. I think he must have been especially eager to prove his loyalty with the "son of the traitor" thing hanging over his head since he was a child. But he was nevertheless constantly under suspicion and distrusted by the Queen and her faction. I remember reading the details of his career, which come across as Richard constantly having to prove himself while being denied positions or sent away - his appointment in Ireland was really meant a virtual exile, to get him away from court (but it resulted in him and by extension the York dynasty gaining long-term popularity and stronghold in Ireland). (One of the common myths is that Richard was warlike and that this got him in conflict with the supposedly more peaceful faction - in fact, if I remember correctly, it was Edmund Beaufort who acted belligerent in France but made a mess of things, which Richard then had to clean up.)

It all must have been really frustrating to Richard - he was doing everything right, but it was never enough, and he had to prove his loyalty over and over. Maybe the Queen and the Lancastrians really created a self-fulfilling prophecy. Theoretically, I suppose Richard could have been binding his time and playing some really long con to depose Henry, but that seems unlikely looking at the details.

Instead, I think the most likely reason for his decision to start claiming the throne for himself in 1460 is that the conflict had become too harsh and the situation too desperate after he had been proclaimed a traitor to the crown and had to flee to Ireland. The attainder meant he was to be killed if he set foot in England again, and his family was disinherited. He had to successfully invade (ironically, he was in a similar situation that the future Henry IV before he deposed Richard II) and then either make himself Lord Protector again or even Henry's heir, or to proclaim himself the true king.

But I think the earlier loss at the castle of Ludlow, when the Yorkist troops were reluctant to fight the Lancastrian army when Henry VI himself was at its head (a puppet or not, ineffectual or disinterested, the annointed king was seen in an almost religious light and had enormous symbolic authority), and then the brutal sack of the castle, where Richard's wife Cecily Neville, his daughter Margaret and his two youngest children George and Richard (who was only 7) at the very least had to witness awful scenes of rape and pillage, by that same army with Henry as its nominal head... this may have been the straw that broke the camel's back and made Richard decide he was done with Henry VI. (Whether or not he had earlier really respected Henry or just respected his position as King.) And I really can't blame him.

I wonder how he felt when he finally made that decision, which would lead to his death less than a year later - followed by his eldest son's successful campaign and decisive victory over the Lancasters? Was it sheer desperation and survival, was he angry, did he decide he deserved the crown after all and was going to take it, did he feel any pride and relief that his decision would also basically mean an annoncement that his father was not really a traitor? I don't know, but I'm surprised there aren't more novels, movies and TV shows with him as the protagonist, delving into those questions.

Now, as for Richard's appearance and those of his sons.

There doesn't seem to be a lot of direct evidence of what he looked like (and the drawing that, for whatever reason, you'll find most often as a supposed portrait of him on Google definitely isn't reliable), but there are some indirect ones: Richard III was said to particularly look like his father. The phrase about Richard III looking like his father in face and figure has been often interpreted to mean that Richard, Duke of York was short, because Richard was a bit on the shorter side. However, there's no indication whatsoever that York was short, and we know that Richard III was shorter than he would've otherwise been due to his scoliosis (but still quite taller than some other men such as Niklas von Popplau, the German knight who was his guest and described him later). And to put things into context - Richard III was being praised for his similarity to his father and the mention of his figure seems more likely to be a reference to the late Edward IV becoming notoriously overweight in his 30s (while Richard was slim and lean), so I think it simply meant that their father Richard Duke of York was slim and in good shape when he was killed at the age of 49.

This miniature portrait of Richard Duke of York from the Talbot Shrewsbury book (around 1445, when he was 33/34, around the same age Richard III was when he died) shows a blond man with a strong chin - similar to that seen in the portraits of his sons Edward and Richard, an acquiline nose similar to Richard, and full lips (the one detail that doesn't match Richard that well and in fact seems more similar to Edward, going by their portraits).

There are a lot of myths about what the brothers looked like that were mostly created by historical fiction - including that Edward and George were tall and strong while Richard was small (in fact, I don't think we have any contemporary evidence of what George looked like), or that Edward or maybe George too were blond while Richard was dark (both Edward and Richard seemed to have medium brown hair) or that Edward and Richard looked nothing alike. I actually think there is quite a resemblance between the two brothers mostly in chin and face shape, which probably would've been obvious before Edward had gained weight and his face shape got much fuller.

[unusual-ly]

🧣❄️🧺🐶 + Gabrian for the emoji drabbles

I am yet again writing a prompt I got months ago. Sorry for another delay, I’ve rarely had all three of time, energy and inspiration at once to write and when I have, I’ve focused on working on Such Sweet Sorrow (which is coming along btw! I’ve got 2 chapters stockpiled and another plotted!) but here you go! I ended up writing it in less than a day *^*

Read on FFN

It had taken some time - years, in fact - but Ian and Gabriel had eventually made the decision to move out of Bill’s home and find a place of their own. It was small, especially compared to the house that had been provided by the Earl of Southampton, but it was theirs. They’d long since gotten used to the quiet, and the somewhat empty feeling that filled that place after Anne had taken the children back to Stratford, but now that even Bill wasn’t around, the emptiness had only grown. Still, though, it was theirs.

They’d discussed children again, not long before moving out. Ian had once suggested they adopt a child in need of a home, but with the rising possibility of that dream coming true, Gabriel’s nervousness about becoming a mother had only grown, and Ian assured her there was no rush. Maybe someday this space would be filled with a young voice’s laughter, and small footsteps running across the floor, but for now, it was theirs.

It was just theirs.

… It still felt empty, though. But what were they to do about that now?

The first winter in their new home was particularly cruel. Gabriel had thought she’d gotten used to England’s cold weather, but alas, it was still unkind to her. On the third day of rough snowfall, she dared to venture outside, bundled up in her warmest cloak and scarf, to retrieve a basket that had been forgotten in the small stable behind the house. She was sure that was where the missing blanket was and they certainly needed it. As she approached the stable, she spotted it on the ground, just barely sheltered from the snow under the roof, and sighed in relief. Then she heard a sound and stopped.

A soft, high-pitched whimpering. The woven basket creaked, as if something inside it was moving. Gabriel hurried towards it.

Inside the basket, half-nestled under the folds of the blanket she was looking for, was a dog; probably still just a puppy, from what she could tell. Its little paws kicked as it whined in its sleep, clearly dreaming, and Gabriel’s heart melted. She assumed it must be a stray, seeking shelter from the snow. She bent down and tentatively reached out to touch its head.

The puppy jerked awake, startled, and at the sight of a human looming over it, tried to bury deeper into the blanket, but Gabriel gently shushed the frightened creature and stroked its fur, hoping to calm it a little.

“Pobrecito…!” Poor thing…! she muttered, carefully coaxing it out from under the blanket.

It would be easiest to carry it inside still in the basket, rather than to try and carry them both separately, or take two trips. She carefully lifted the basket up, placing a hand on the puppy’s head to stop it from climbing out, and held her cloak over it to shield it from the snow on their trek back to the house, all the while muttering comforting words that it likely wouldn’t understand, but at least her gentle tone might sooth it a bit.

“Ian!” she whisper-shouted when she entered and she soon heard him coming.

“Did you find the blanket? I’m absolutely freezing my-”

“Hush! Not so loud!” she hissed, silencing him immediately as he came through the doorway, “Come and look.”

Ian frowned as he walked towards her, cautious of the wide grin on her face; it reminded him far too much of when she was engaged in some chaotic shenanigans with Bill. He looked down at the partially covered basket.

“Does this mean you didn’t find the blanket?”

Gabriel rolled her eyes, “I have the blanket, Ian, now come here!” she softened as she moved her cloak aside, “Someone was using it.”

Ian’s eyes widened at the sight of the puppy, now curled up and staring back at him.

“Oh…!”

“He was sheltering from the snow in the stable.”

He reached out a hand to scratch behind the dog’s ear, and it closed its eyes and leaned into his hand. Ian smiled sadly, “Poor thing’s starved for attention. And just plain starved, I’ll bet,” he exchanged a look with Gabriel, “I suppose he can borrow the blanket for now.”

“Only for now?”

He just nodded, “And join us for dinner.”

She stared blankly at him, “Ian.”

“… Gabby…” he was wavering.

Gabriel put the basket down and carefully lifted the puppy out, cradling it in her arms, and nuzzled its cheek with hers, all while pouting at Ian, and he was so easily breaking under their combined puppy-dog eyes. She persisted.

“I know we cannot guarantee we’ll be able to care for him in the long term, but if not us, then who? How can we just leave an animal to suffer when we have the means to help it?”

He had no argument, to be fair. It might cause a minor strain on their resources, but they could probably manage that. They could figure it out.

And Gabriel seemed so happy. He sighed, and smiled in defeat, and took a step closer to press a kiss to her forehead. She returned his smile, then held the puppy towards him expectantly, and he laughed lightly before kissing his forehead as well. Then he took him from her, holding him close.

“Come on, then. Let’s find you something to eat.”

Because now, he, too, was theirs.

[une-sanz-pluis]

If Sir Thomas Gray's letter of confession to Henry V can be believed, Cambridge in the summer of 1415 was entertaining fantastic delusions. He told Gray, who was staying at Conisborough castle on 17 June, that the Scottish regent, Robert Stewart (c. 1340-1420), duke of Albany, was willing to trade the pseudo-Richard II in exchange for one of eighteen prominent Englishmen, headed by Bishop Courtenay of Norwich (one of the king's most trusted councillors), and the head of the Nevill clan, the staunchly Lancastrian Ralph, earl of Westmorland, who was married to Henry V's aunt, Joan Beaufort. Needless to say, there was no possibility that men of high rank would put themselves at Cambridge's disposal or become available to be used as hostages in these bizarre negotiations. Perhaps the Scottish regent, unwilling to disclose that his puppet was no longer alive, and eager to keep up the pretence that Richard II still survived, had stated unacceptable terms to evade coming to an agreement with Cambridge. It should have been obvious to Sir Thomas Gray as he rode homewards that his host, the earl of Cambridge, had lost touch with reality, and memories of that astonishing conversation at Conisborough castle, when the two men rashly talked of treason, should have been enough to deter him from getting more deeply involved in such preposterous schemes.

T. B. Pugh, Henry V and the Southampton Plot (Alan Sutton, 1988)

[heartofstanding]

I think that's a very fair assessment. It makes a lot of sense for them to be linked. IIRC, the charges against Arthur and the other four members of Humphrey's household who were arrested appear to be that they were conspiring with Humphrey to free Eleanor and make Humphrey king and since they were arrested at the same time Humphrey was, it suggests that was the specific accusation of treason against Humphrey. So I think you can see Humphrey's and Arthur's arrests as an extension of Eleanor's case. Juliana Ridligo doesn't seem to have had any real connection with Humphrey or Eleanor (she wasn't part of their household or did business with them - at least as far as we know) but obviously her defence of them links her to their cases. In a rather weird twist, she told Henry that he would be the death of Humphrey. Which. Wasn't inaccurate.

But yeah, there does seem to have been a serious falling out between Henry and Humphrey, possibly driven by Eleanor's case though possibly also relating to a split between them earlier (possibly Humphrey's very public and vehement disapproval of the release of Charles, Duke of Orleans), and the accusations against Eleanor and the ecclesiastical court finding her guilty would have only further alienated Henry from Humphrey.

I absolutely think that the belief in Eleanor's guilt is just... convenient for a lot of historians. You often find the idea that she was "really guilty" in the work of historians writing revisionist histories of the Beauforts (like Nathen Amin), Suffolk (John Watts) and Henry VI (Lauren Johnson), because her innocence makes them look bad. It's a pretty gendered thing, really, because these same historians often declare that everyone was justified in going after Humphrey (or York or whoever) because he was, or had been, a "threat" to them, and it exists in this sort of grimdark medieval world full of macho posturing. To say that Somerset and Suffolk set Humphrey up to deal with the threat he posed characterises them as wily and badass and, simultaneously as victims acting in the name of survival. Humphrey, even though he was an ageing, sick man who posed no real threat to the regime, could be imagined to be a threat in masculine terms. He could raise and command armies, put his enemies to the sword, act with the authority of parliament.

But Eleanor, as a woman, is left with the weapons of soft power/influence and magic that she can't wield herself. She's a much, much weaker opponent and Suffolk and Cardinal Beaufort seem much more like weak bullies to deal with her in an underhanded way. And if the accusations are false, it makes Henry VI seem overly credulous and superstitious for not seeing through them and for his harsh treatment of her.

And of course, there's a big difference in the sense that the attack on Humphrey resulted in Humphrey's probably-natural death and the arrest and pardon of five of his household, while the attack on Eleanor left her alive but three people dead, two in horrific circumstances (Roger Bolingbroke was hanged, disembowelled and beheaded, Margery Jourdemayne was burnt to death - both at the centre of spectacles; Thomas Southwell died before he could be executed, possibly from suicide, possibly from the conditions he was kept in).

God, I know. And of course you have to filter things through a medieval perspective so you don't end up with "they believed in the divine right of kings, ergo they had narcissistic personality disorder!" type of reasoning. One of the things that I constantly think is John Blacman's life of Henry. He was quite close to Henry so he's a good source in terms of accuracy... except he was writing to promote Henry as a saint, so it is a hagiography and employs the tropes of hagiography so Blacman is probably not interested in recording the truth but crafting Henry's sainthood.

There's stuff in it like Henry fleeing from the sight of topless women dancers or how he had secret windows on which he would spy on members of his household and "keep a careful watch ... lest any foolish impertinence of women coming into the house should grow to a head and cause the fall of any of his household." And you read it and go: what's going on there? Is it a sign of him having a pathological fear of women? Is he sex-repulsed and asexual? Is it a symptom of a mental illness (e.g. as Cory James Rushton speculated, for schizophrenia; or as @shredsandpatches speculated for scrupulosity OCD)? Is it even a true story, since the trope of the male saint tempted by beautiful women and violently rejecting it is quite common (St Benedict rolled himself in a patch of briars and nettles to rid himself of temptation; there's also the trope of the mystical castration, Henry's fleeing and spying look positively well-adjusted next to that)?

And. Like. we're never going to know. And some people get more concerned with the idea that Henry couldn't have a Bad Mental Illness™️like schizophrenia than the ableism and continued dehumanisation of Henry (literally saw Lauren Johnson quote-tweeting a tweet calling Henry VI a muppet to chide the repliers defending Henry because it's "problematic" to say Henry had schizophrenia). She also wrote a blog declaring Henry couldn't have inherited his mental illness from his maternal family because Charles VI had a Bad Mental Illness (schizophrenia) whose symptoms include "murder". Murder isn't a symptom on the DSM last time I checked so...

(And I mean, I don't necessarily think Henry did inherit his mental illness from Charles (I don't think his paternal family were that mentally healthy either) but we don't and can't know for sure. I do think it's "problematic" to list murder as a symptom when the murder occurred within a psychotic break when he believed he was being attacked, and that to effectively act like Charles had the Bad Mental Illness as if he's somehow responsible for it.)

#it's been so difficult to find out if Henry had symptoms before the catatonic episodes#because all you get is 'oh he was so dumb'#(when he provably wasn't)#Idk this entire situation is so murky on all sides#it feels like it's all really simple or really not

I vote "really not". My hunch is that there were probably symptoms before his first known breakdown but there's really no real way to know. Some historians think he just suddenly had a breakdown in 1453 (and his recovery was just as sudden), some read symptoms into the surviving evidence. I've wondered if he had some minor breakdown or health crisis in 1440 or 1441 that led to the accusations against Eleanor - whether it threw the problems of the succession into fresh light (the childless Henry dying and leaving his childless and ageing uncle king, the fact that a lot of people were probably Not Happy about the prospect of King Humphrey I,) or whether the trial against Eleanor served as a distraction and a reassertion of kingly strength. But of course that's just me speculating about evidence. The astrological chart for Henry that Eleanor allegedly commissioned is pretty interesting in regards to Henry's mental health because from what I've read, it really doesn't paint a flattering picture of Henry (Frank Millard argues iirc that the accusations against Eleanor were really more about suppressing the chart than any political strike against Eleanor or Humphrey).

Why do you think Henry went after Eleanor? What little I've read about it explains everyone else's motivations, but not Henry's, which is strange to me considering the whole ordering a woman to be crushed to death for saying Eleanor is innocent. It seems very ooc for Henry being such a pacifist. I could see it being guilt if his motives were political, but I really don't know enough. I've been meaning to ask you for a while, because it's bugging me

OK, so, one of the biggest issues with Henry VI's reign is that no one agrees on when, if ever, he began ruling in his own right. So you have Bertram Wolffe and Ralph Griffiths who argue Henry was involved politically (albeit in differing terms) and K. B. MacFarlane and John Watts who argue that Henry was incapable of ruling and was entirely absent as a king. It's also just really hard to get a sense of when Henry was behind something. Contemporary criticisms of his rule tended to frame themselves as blaming people close to him (namely Suffolk, Somerset and Margaret) rather than Henry himself (which isn't that unusual - you also have the "blame the favourite, not the king" thing in Edward II and Richard II's reigns) so it's often easier to put them at the centre of what was going on and to talk about their motivations rather than Henry's, even if their motivations are ultimately a construction of propaganda.

That's a big part in why Henry's motivations aren't really discussed re: Eleanor. There's a lot more evidence of Humphrey Duke of Gloucester's feud with Cardinal Beaufort or potentially clashing with Suffolk so Eleanor's downfall is generally considered to be a result of those factors rather than anything from Henry's side. That's, of course, when the author isn't going "um have you considered Gloucester is everything wrong with Henry VI's reign and invented factionalism? so clearly his wife was guilty :) More importantly, there is NO EVIDENCE that my fave did anything wrong anyone but her own stupid ambitious female self had anything to do with it :) ".

There's no evidence of Henry's direct involvement in the accusations - but then, as I said, the same could apply to Suffolk and Cardinal Beaufort so I don't think we can rule it out entirely. I think there are a number of possible scenarios:

The witchcraft accusations were true, there was no plot framing Eleanor

The witchcraft accusations were exaggerated or false but Henry is not involved in their creation

The witchcraft accusations were exaggerated or false and Henry was involved in their creation.

In the first scenario, Henry reacts as he "ought" to and Eleanor is deservedly punished. Juliana Ridligo's declaration of Eleanor's innocence may be viewed either as ignorance or malignant. It is interesting that given Henry later pardoned unasked a man who spoke treasonably about him that he didn't intervene with Juliana's case, which might suggest he was particularly sensitive or felt Juliana was speaking on behalf of a much more serious threat that needed to be squashed.

The second scenario is one I tend to think is mostly likely (but then I would think that). I've personally tended to think Henry VI reacted emotionally, not politically, to the accusations. I think he believed the accusations and reacted in genuine fear, and that fear silenced any doubts he might have had about Eleanor's innocence. And then you get the guilty subconscious that violently shuts down any suggestion of her innocence because to doubt her guilt means to acknowledge some uncomfortable possible-truths about himself and his court. Like, if Eleanor was innocent, it means someone set her up and that person was probably someone who Henry trusted or was in the court. It's easier to accept the court corrupted by one bad person who is duly cast out than it is to accept the corruption might be widespread. It also means that Henry was ruled by fear and let innocents suffer because he couldn't see through the accusations. And Henry may well have felt relieved that Gloucester had the wind taken out of his sails so he could no longer be quite the thorn in Henry's side as he had been. Henry's non-intervention in Juliana's case is then about maintaining Eleanor's guilt and justifying his own reactions.

There's also a nastier reading of Henry in this scenario, brought to you by Bertram Wolffe who posits that the reaction to the accusations was an overreaction and links it to Gloucester's resistance to the release of Charles, Duke of Orleans the year previously. Wolffe's version of Henry tends to be motivated by spite so the treatment of Eleanor and Juliana may well be read as revenge against Gloucester's intransigence and against Juliana openly challenging him. I don't particularly agree with Wolffe's interpretation but it's worthwhile mentioning it.

There is no evidence that Henry was directly involved in the accusations as anything but a hapless and innocent victim and I don't think it's likely given that there are signs of Henry displaying anxiety around the accusations. But it is possible, particularly if we're building on Wolffe's spiteful Henry, that he may have been involved in their fabrication. If he was involved, it might have been for similar reasons given above - he wanted to punish Gloucester - or the motivations usually ascribed to Suffolk and Beaufort, i.e. he wanted to force Gloucester into retirement or to silence him.

It's also possible that the accusations were less about Gloucester than is usually supposed and actually about Eleanor. In the second scenario, where Henry's not involved, it might be that Eleanor was viewed as having too much influence over Henry or as a mediating force between Henry and Gloucester that needed to be gotten rid of if Suffolk or Beaufort wanted to shut Gloucester down completely. If so, Henry may have reacted in shock and horror, believing the accusations or at least not wanting to risk not believing them.

In the third scenario, the motivations may have been more personal than political. Henry might not have liked her and wanted her away from his court. He may have thought she influenced Gloucester in the wrong direction or, given the common reading of Henry as repulsed by sex and Eleanor's own reputation, it may well that he saw Eleanor as a malignant avatar of female sexuality that was best expelled from his court. Juliana Ridligo would also fall into the last category, a subversive woman to be silenced.

And all of this is changed if we take the McFarlane-Watts belief of Henry as the "inane child" as true. In this view, the third scenario is untenable - these readings have Henry incapable of so much it's impossible to imagine him being involved in fabricated accusations as more than an innocent patsy. Henry's reactions to the (real or fake) accusations and to Juliana, would be emotional rather than political. It's doubtful that this Henry would have any real impact on the official response to both Eleanor and Juliana except as the innocent victim of their evil and subversiveness, though.

As I said, my personal interpretation is that he reacted in genuine fear and belief in the accusations. I don't particularly like the more spiteful interpretations of him - the "he wanted her gone because she was a lady who had sex" in particular is strikes me as some Freudian bullshit. And while I've referenced Bertram Wolffe's take on Henry, it isn't a view of Henry that's widely accepted.

[ao3feed-darkrise]

Could go to hell but we'll probably be fine

https://ift.tt/JLGUpR2 by PreliminaryGayeties You pull on the reigns of your gelding, and I do the same, both of us slowing to a halt. Your eyes meet mine. I think you know. "What are you suggesting?" My eyes dart up the road, then back at yours. "There must be an inn nearby." ~ Missing scene from when Justice and Marcus are returning from their mission in Southampton. Words: 4377, Chapters: 1/1, Language: English Fandoms: Dark Rise Series - C. S. Pacat Rating: Explicit Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Categories: M/M Characters: Justice (Dark Rise Series), Marcus (Dark Rise Series) Relationships: Justice/Marcus (Dark Rise Series) Additional Tags: Angst, Pining, Anal Sex, Hand Jobs, Porn with Feelings, Porn With Plot, First Time

[ailendolin]

for the prompts, maybe 9 for Gabrian, please~?

Thank you so much for the prompt "Trust" for these two! I hope you enjoy this little post-movie ficlet!

List of prompts is here. Filled prompts are here, here, here and here on AO3.

Prompts are closed.

————

Chance Meeting

It was a coincidence, really, that Gabriel was passing by the Earl of Croydon’s house just when Ian was roughly being shoved out of the front door by a guard. She had been on her way to the market but all thoughts of buying fabrics for Bill’s latest play fled her mind when she saw Ian stumble down the stairs and land hard on his knees in the mud. A small bag of belongings landed next to him in the street.

“Now get lost!” the guard growled before he carefully locked the house behind him. He left without sparing Ian a second glance and Gabriel stood there for a moment, shocked. She’d known Croydon’s house was to be cleared out this week and that Ian, being Croydon’s former servant, had been tasked with doing the packing up – Bill had told her as much after his latest talk with the Earl of Southampton. She hadn’t known that Ian would be treated like a common thief, though. Seeing him get kicked out of what was, essentially, his home by a stranger as if he were no better than a common household pest made her blood boil.  

She had half a mind of going after the guard and giving him a piece of her mind when movement across the street caught her attention. Ian was shakily getting to his feet and the slow way in which he moved made it glaringly obvious that that poor leg of his hadn’t gotten a chance to heal over the last few days. It took him far longer than it should have to find his balance and when he finally did, his leg trembled visibly. He made quite a sorry sight as he stood there, dripping mud and with his few belongings lying at his feet. Gabriel had been in his place once, a long time ago, and when his attempt to retrieve his bag made him wince in barely suppressed pain her old back injury twinged in sympathy.

“Wait, let me help you,” she said and hurried across the street. She picked up the bag – it was awfully light – and handed it to him.

“You’re – you’re one of them,” Ian said shakily and took an unsteady step backwards. He looked as if he’d seen a ghost and Gabriel didn’t blame him. She’d still been an assassin the last time they’d met, and he didn’t seem to have heard that the queen had granted her asylum.

“Not anymore,” she said with her best reassuring smile. “I’m working for Bill now – Bill Shakespeare? The man who wrote the play?”

Ian swallowed hard and clutched his belongings more tightly against his chest. “I – I had nothing to do with what happened with Mr Shakespeare’s wife or – or Mr Marlow, I swear!”

He took another step away from her and his injured leg slipped on the muddy ground. Acting purely on instinct, Gabriel’s arms shot out to steady him.

“Careful,” she said softly and released him once she was sure his leg would bear his weight.

“Thank you,” Ian whispered without looking at her. “Are you going to stab me now?”

Gabriel laughed because otherwise she might cry. “Of course not. I tried to tell you: I work for Bill now – as a seamstress.”

“Oh,” Ian said and finally dared to look at her. “Congratulations?”

This time, Gabriel’s laugh was more genuine. “Thank you. They’re really good people – and they happen to be looking for someone to take care of their house here in London.”

Ian blinked. “You – you can’t mean me.”

“Why not?” Gabriel asked. “You’re a hard worker. I’ve seen that myself. And you’re out of a job, are you not?”

“Yes, but – I’ve worked for Croydon,” Ian said, resigned. “No one in their right mind would want to employ me after what happened. And Mr Shakespeare has more reason than most not to want me under his roof.”

Gabriel shook her head. “If Anne and Bill can forgive me for the part I played in the plot, they can certainly forgive you for just doing your job.”

“I’m not so sure about that,” Ian mumbled, looking down at his feet.

“Well, I am,” Gabriel said and, taking matters into her own hands – literally – gently took hold of his arm. “Please, just come and have dinner with us. Trust me: they’ll be glad to see you.”

“No one is ever glad to see me,” Ian muttered.

Gabriel knew what that felt like only too well.  

“That’s not true,” she said softly. “I was glad to see you, just now. We’ve been wondering what had happened to you – Anne, Bill and I.” She paused. “I did not lie when I said you would be welcome in their home.”

She knew it would take a long time for Ian to trust her – to trust anyone, really, after the way he had been treated by Croydon for years – but when he tentatively nodded and allowed her to lead him down the street, Gabriel felt her heart lift with hope. Hope that he would let them help him, that he might stay–

That perhaps one day, he would look at her and see a friend rather than someone he should fear.

[tortoisesshells]

top five 1899 characters and/or top five scenes from 1899!

unfortunately, I cannot shut up about 1899. to save your dash, it's all under the cut. tl;dr: I fucking love Maura Franklin.

TOP 5 CHARACTERS: (1) Maura Franklin: she's unhinged. she's the only sane man. she's suffered more than jesus christ. she's caused everyone else to suffer more than she has (maybe). she'll never let go. she has to let go. she accidentally keeps committing adultery with the walking talking open wound masquerading as an authority figure. stealth pants. possibly understands far more than she ever lets on. The most character of all time.

(2) Eyk Larsen: so far past his breaking point that it's almost comic. who put this man in charge of a ship and 1500 souls? If 1899 is a story about grief, then he gets so many of the great character beats about it. He'd practically dead himself. He's going to drink himself into an early grave. A shell of a man with a single, half-deranged thread of hope. A man who was saved from inspiring the worst kind of dad issues in his daughters by their horrible and premature deaths. If his story on the Kerberos is completely disconnected from his reality (whatever that is) I think he should be allowed to commit murder.

(3) Ramiro: I don't know what I can say about him that you and others have not said more eloquently than I, but: a man who is destined to keep secrets - not only his own; a man who deserves rest but is not allowed to, either by his own moral compass or the intolerance of the world around him. everyone wants him as a confessor and confidante, but he struggles to find that for himself! he shines in the crisis, but you wish he didn't have to. I hope there's a version of reality where he and Ángel get to sit in the open sun and enjoy a quiet afternoon.

(4) Jérôme: local man forced to abandon perfectly good Count of Monte Cristo plot by supernatural vicissitudes and his own sense of rights and wrongs. I think he should get to get Lucien with the hammer. I think he and Clémence should ride off into the sunset together. I have no idea how he and Clémence got out of Ling Yi's memories, but I think something horrible and plot-relevant happened in there and I'm raging against the heavens that we'll never get to see the full scope of their escape into the boiler room. He doesn't seem to be running away from his past as much as the others, and sets aside his sprint towards rightful vengeance as soon as he sees the miseries of his past playing out again. I still don't know what I believe his original plan was - murder? simply throwing the medal back in Lucien's face? Did he know himself? G O D.

(5) Ling Yi: I, too, enjoy hiding in small spaces, though I'm more partial to handy closets than miscellaneous equipment lockers. She's isolated from her mother by the great secret they're carrying between them, from any common ability to connect to anyone else, from her own sense of self. It's understandable that she tends to expect the worst, all things taken together. If all this has happened before, how many times has she not been able to say goodbye, either to Mei Mei or to her mother? How long has she been staring the end, not of her physical life, but her life as Ling Yi, in the face?

TOP 5 SCENES: (1) "Have you ever lost someone? It's like you're dying with them. They can move on. You're stuck." I've rambled at length in the tags but: Eyk Larsen's whole life as Captain of the Kerberos is one great circle between Southampton and New York, over and over, without end. He cannot escape it. He cannot, except temporarily, escape his grief over the loss of his family and his failures as a husband and father to have done something. And yet (as we know) none of this is real, and all of this is Maura's doing - maybe. Maura, rightly, looks as though she's been gutted: this is her grief reflected back to her. She cannot move on, and because of it, they're all stuck.

(2) I am a giant sucker for well-done SFX, and the Kerberos descending through the maelstrom into the archive left me gasping. Ling Yi's - resignation? - to seeing the impossible spooling out in front of her, when she's lost the only other person on the ship who cared at all for what she thought makes spectacle into tragedy.

(3) The multiple-way conversation between Ángel and Ramiro and Eyk and Eugen about the survivors aboard the Prometheus having need of a priest in the first-class hallway: the multiple conversations being had at once, the switching between languages, the claustrophobic framing, that Ángel, who has not exactly shown himself to have much care for Ramiro's opinions thusfar, shows himself instead to be frightened and a little desperate to not rock the boat (sorry, couldn't resist) and still concerned for Ramiro's well-being as the masquerade seems to be getting out of hand. There's so much going on in such a little scene!

(4) Maura, wondering where everyone on the Prometheus went, immediately asking Eyk how hot the boilers run - skipping right over that it would be significantly easier, perhaps, to throw bodies overboard than cremate 1500 people. I love how your mind works, Miss Franklin. You're terrifying. (actually, the whole sequence of Maura and Eyk immediately deciding to lie to each other rather than converse is a delight. for a given value of delight.)

(5) The fight on the stern of the Kerberos at the end of the mutiny: the lighting! the drama! the spectacle! the realization that all is lost before the significantly worse realization - they are so far beyond the boundaries of the possible, and whatever controls this place is not operating by known rules! The many reunions mid-fight! Iben wins by being willing to murder a child!

[farnwedel]

Samantha Young

King’s Way – Verlockende Berührung

Zum Abschluss dieses Adventskranzes tatsächlich ein...kann ich "Standalone" sagen oder fangen die Hauptfiguren dann an, infantil zu kichern? Jedenfalls hat das hier sowas wie einen Plot.

Kapitel 1 – Craig

Wer? Salisbury Craig?

Ah, nee. Der Typ, dem Braden mal eine reingehauen…egal. Craig ist ein Aufreißer, der ein Problem hat, dass seine Mutter sich mit 55 zum Onlinedating angemeldet hat. Abends im Club 39 (er ist Joss‘ Kollege) sieht er eine atemberaubende Frau, die gekleidet ist wie ein Pin-up-Girl aus den 40ern.

Kapitel 2 – Rain

Ja, davon gibt’s in Edinburgh genug.

Rain also kommt in den Club 39 auf der Suche nach dem Ex ihrer Schwester Darcy, einem Typen namens Angus York (ayyy. Cousin von Herbert Liverpool, George Southampton und Albert Norwich, nehme ich an), dem sie das Leben zur Hölle machen will. Craig flirtet mit ihr. Sie sagt, dass er sich das sparen kann, weil sie keine ONS mitmacht. Schreckt ihn natürlich nicht ab und weil er 25, damit ein Jahr älter als sie und unglaublich sexy ist (KINDER. KINDER SEID IHR), wird sie natürlich feucht. Allerdings geht sie nachts um drei alleine nach Hause.

Kapitel 3 – Craig

Craig geht sehr erwachsen damit um, dass seine Mutter ein Date im Speziellen und sexuelle Bedürfnisse im Allgemeinen hat. Nicht. Außerdem geht Rain ihm nicht mehr aus dem Kopf. Die heute Abend wieder in der Bar ist. Joss meint zu Craig, wenn sie ein Mann wäre, würde sie es auch mit Rain machen (Bisexualität existiert hier nicht!). Rain trinkt etwas zu viel, Craig bringt sie in ein Hinterzimmer und bietet ihr Wasser an. Dort erzählt sie ihm, dass Angus von Darcy und sich ein Sexvideo gemacht und das auf einer Party allen gezeigt hatte (ah. Er ist außerdem verwandt mit Hardin Scott). Darcy ist daraufhin nach Australien geflohen. Jetzt will Rain etwas über Angus herausfinden, um sein Leben ebenso zu zerstören. Craig beschließt für sich, sie davon ab- und gleichzeitig zu sich selbst hinzubringen. Dummerweise bleibt sie nicht bis Ende der Schicht in der Bar.

Kapitel 4 – Rain

Sie geht wieder in die Bar. Diesmal ist Angus tatsächlich da. Rain flirtet mit ihm, spürt dabei aber die ganze Zeit Craigs Blick im Rücken. Als sie auf Toilette geht, um Angus für ein paar Minuten zu entkommen, zieht Craig sie auf die barrierefreie Toilette, fragt sie, was zum Teufel sie da mache, und küsst sie, obwohl sie mehrfach sagt, er soll sie los- und rauslassen. Aber sie findet’s geil, also ist das schon okay. Hinterher flieht sie direkt aus der Bar.

Kapitel 5 – Rain

Oh. Ohhh! Sie treffen sich im Black Medicine Café. Das kenn ich! Gibt dort sehr guten Kaffee. Ist allerdings nicht barrierefrei.

Also, Rain sucht Angus dort auf, aber der taucht nicht auf, dafür aber Craig. Er warnt sie vor Angus. Sie erzählt ihm von dem Trauma, mit Darcy bei ihrer alkoholkranken Tante aufzuwachsen und dass sie sich schuldig fühlt, weil sie Darcy zwei Jahre lang mit ihrer Tante alleine gelassen hatte, als sie 18 war. Deswegen hat sie hohe emotionale Ansprüche an eine Beziehung und bisher konnte kein Mann diese erfüllen. Komischerweise schreckt das Craig nicht ab.

Kapitel 6 – Craig

„[Es gefällt mir, w]enn du mich Schätzchen nennst.“ Ihr Blick war voller Argwohn. „Ich dachte, wir wollten bloß Freunde sein?“ „Freunde flirten miteinander.“ Er tat es mit einem Schulterzucken ab. „Nur die Art Freunde, die vögeln.“ Lust flammte in ihm auf und schoss schnurstracks in seinen Schwanz. Er rutschte unbehaglich auf seinem Stuhl hin und her und musste einmal tief durchatmen. Rain, die das Glühen in seinen Augen bemerkt hatte, lehnte sich auf ihrem Stuhl zurück, als wollte sie zu ihm auf Abstand gehen. „Ernsthaft? Ich kann nicht mal das Wort >vögeln< sagen, ohne dass du durchdrehst?“ „Wenn du so ein Wort in den Mund nimmst, muss ich automatisch daran denken, wie du was ganz anderes in den Mund nimmst…“

JUNGE.

Ich bin zu ace für den Scheiß.

Sie beschließen, „befreundet“ zu sein und gehen spazieren. Auf der Royal Mile. Rain in High-Heels. Viel Spaß.

Auf den Meadows klären sie, dass sie beide später mal Kinder wollen. Dann bietet er an, sie nach Hause zu bringen, wo sie schon in Morningside wohnt. Auf dem Weg dorthin kauft er ihr in ihrer Lieblingsbäckerei ihre Lieblingscupcakes und geht dann sogar mit ihr in die Bücherei, weil das für sie ein Lieblingsort ist.

Kapitel 7 – Rain

Natürlich knutschen sie in den hinteren Regalreihen der Bibliothek. Dann bringt er sie erst nach und dann zu Hause. Dreimal. Es ist der beste Sex, den sie beide je hatten. Wie schön.

Kapitel 8 - Craig

Sie gehen edel essen. Paar Tage später kommt er nach der Arbeit bei ihr vorbei.

Sie trug ein dunkelblaues Nachthemd […], bei dessen Anblick […] sein Schwanz sich zusammenzog.

Ähm. Klingt kontraproduktiv?

Sie vögeln trotzdem im Flur. Am nächsten Morgen telefoniert Craig mit seiner Mutter und erzählt ihr, er habe „die Eine“ gefunden.

Kapitel 9 – Rain

Sie glaubt noch immer nicht, dass das mit Craig und ihr auf Dauer gutgeht. Craigs Schwester Maggie kommt zu Besuch und traumatisiert ein kleines Kind mit Gruselgeschichten vom Monster unterm Bett. Rain telefoniert mit Darcy und will ihren Racheplan wieder aufwärmen.

Kapitel 10 – Rain

Sie geht in die Bar. Obwohl er weiß, dass sie da ist, flirtet Craig mit anderen Frauen, was sie verletzt. Angus taucht auf und lässt nach wenigen Sätzen durchblicken, dass er sie durchschaut hat. Craig rettet Rain und haut Angus eine rain rein. Rain ist ihm böse und verlässt die Bar.

Kapitel 11 – Craig

Er rennt ihr nach, fährt mit ihr nach Hause, sie streiten in ihrer Wohnung über Vertrauen und vollkommene Hingabe und Trauma und Übergriffigkeit und Projektion und alle anderen Dinge, über die ich jetzt viel sagen könnte, aber meine Kapazitäten dafür sind grade etwas erschöpft. Dann macht sie Schluss und wirft ihn aus der Wohnung.

Kapitel 12 – Craig

Seine Mutter wäscht ihm den Kopf. Recht hat sie.

Kapitel 13 – Rain

Craig kommt vorbei, drängt sich in ihre Wohnung, entschuldigt sich und sie gestehen einander ihre ewige Liebe.

Kapitel 14 – Rain

Darcy ruft an. Sie habe in Australien wen kennengelernt und werde dort bleiben. Rain solle doch zu ihr ziehen. Rain kommt nicht einmal dazu, ihr von Craig zu erzählen, und sagt natürlich ja, weil sie ihre kleine Schwester nicht im Stich lassen will. Diesmal werden Craig und sie sich also einvernehmlich trennen – denn er will bei seiner Familie in Edinburgh bleiben.

Kapitel 15 – Rain

Rain fühlt sich in Sydney wohl, aber sie vermisst Craig. Darcy geht es gut. Darcy geht es sogar so gut, dass sie auf Rains iPad herumschnüffelt und Fotos von ihr und Craig findet, sodass Rain ihr gestehen muss, dass sie für Darcy ihren Freund verlassen hat. Darcy macht ihr klar, dass sie ohne Rain zurechtkommt bzw. die Distanz eines 24h-Fluges sie nicht auf ewig voneinander trennen wird.

Kapitel 16 – Craig

Seine Mutter und seine Schwestern organisieren eine Intervention und sagen, er soll gefälligst nach Australien ziehen und mit Rain glücklich werden. Sie würden ohne ihn zurechtkommen, egal, was er seinem Vater damals™ versprochen hat.

Kapitel 17 – Rain

Darcy schickt Rain zu einem „Geschäftstreffen“ mit einem „Modeeinkäufer eines Online-Kaufhauses“.

Es ist Craig. Awww.

Kapitel 18 – Craig

Romantisches Aufwachen zu zweit.

Frohes Fest. :D

[zoyalannister]

Fanfiction Masterlist

Since I was asked about my fanfics and where to find them, I decided to make a Masterlist. Maybe it will be easier for you and myself.

The Last Flowers

A series which integrates and corrects TLH canon. It comprises four long fics, a collection of missing moments one-shots and three oneshots as epilogues. I'm writing this series with @fimproda (A_WriterInSTEM on Ao3).

This series has many delicate themes, so, please, read all the TWs before reading.

Here are the single fanfics of this series:

Hydrangea: the 1st longfic, it's mostly about Gracetopher (kind of). Set between Chain of Gold and Chain of Iron. [Complete]

Daisy: the 2nd longfic, it's mostly about Jordelia, but unlike canon they can talk to each other like normal human beings. Set during Chain of Gold and Chain of Iron. [Ongoing, 5/6 chapters]

Chrysanthemum: the 3rd longfic, it will be a correction of all the nonsense that happens in Chain of Thorns. It will be about Gracetopher and Jordelia, but also AriAanna and Thomastair will have a minor role. (Not published yet).

Petals: a collection of one shots of missing moments from the rest of the long fics. [Ongoing, 3/6 chapters]

Geranium: I like to call it Hydrangea AU, it starts with the same premise but it goes in a totally different direction. It's mostly about Cecily and Grace having a mother-daughter relationship, but Gracetopher is a secondary relationship and AriAnna will have a minor role later on. It's independent from the rest of TLF and can be read separately. [Ongoing, 4/8 chapters]

Levander: the Thomastair epilogue, set after Chrysanthemum. (Not published yet).

Acacia: the AriAnna epilogue, set after Chrysanthemum. (Not published yet).

Night-blooming Jasmine: the Gracetopher epilogue, set after Chrysanthemum. (Not published yet).

Gracetopher

Exothermic: a Bridgerton-like fanfic that starts from the premise "What if Cecily got Herondale Manor instead of Will?" [Complete]

How (not) to end a feud: a fanfic where the clave is tired of the Lightwood-Blackthorn feud and decides to settle the matter down with a wedding. [Complete]

It's always been you: a collection of short one shots (500-1500 words) for the Gracetopher Week 2024. Mostly sports-related AUs. [Complete]

Endless Sunlight: a fanfic set after ChoT where Grace is obsessed by the idea of finding Christopher in another dimension, but once she arrives there she finds out that Christopher isn't the same kind and caring guy he was in her universe. Or, the self indulgent villain!Christopher fanfic. [Ongoing, 16/21 chapters]

What happens in the lab... : a PWP fanfic.

What happens in the carriage... : another PWP fanfic.

What happens in the hotel room... : the return of PWP.

Gabrily

Still insists she sees the ghosts: Cecily is accused of something she didn't do and her tale goes through two different parts of her life. [Ongoing, 4/8 chapters]

Bad luck: Morden!AU, it should be a commedy but my humour is broken and I can't gaurantee other people will find it funny. (Not published yet)

Across the PWPverse: a series of 3 PWP one shots connected with each other, but that can be read separately.

That one time in Chiswick Manor: a PWP where Cecily goes to Benedict Lightwood’s party and meets an interesting person.

That one time in the Institute: a PWP where Gabriel owes a favour to Cecily.

That one time in Southampton: a PWP where Gabriel is forced to admit that he’s wrong about something.

Lightwood family (Gabrily)

Balance: Modern!AU, no plot. Just Cecily Lightwood trying to balance work, marriage, motherhood and life in general. It will be a collection of short one shots (about 500/1000 words each) independent from each other. [Ongoing, 4/35 chapters].

Extra

A collection of the extra of all my fanfics. These posts will delve into some aspects if my fics.

Endless Sunlight: The planimetry of Chiswick Manor; The gardens of Chiswick Manor, Playlist, Random facts about Matthias Greene, Random facts about Oliver Whisperford.

[kingofpolynya]

Burnout or love?

Tumblr looks different now, but I'm still the same. Still working in academia, doing phytoplankton stuff, but not in Japan. I move back to the UK in December 2021 after getting offered a postdoc in Liverpool. Hopefully in January, I'll start my permanent job at the National Oceanography Centre - as a marine biogeochemical model developer. Funny how 11 years ago, I had my first interview to be an Oceanography student. Now I'm going to work there. Time flies..

Life in Japan was quite miserable. I cheated on my (now ex) boyfriend with a colleague. It was a short affair too, but he ended our relationship. I tried making new friends, but I feel sort of worthless that girls in Japan are all very skinny and very prim and proper. I stopped eating breakfast, which spiralled into not eating anything. I ran 5k every evening, and swam 3k 3x a week. I have never felt this pretty before, but everyone said I looked like a holocaust survivor. I still love my job, but I hated everyone (apart from my boss) there. So I need a way out, and I ended up applying for a postdoc with this famous professor, and thanks to divine intervention I got the post. My mother said I am allowed to move back to the UK if I got to normal BMI, so I tried. I even got myself a psychiatrist and a cocktail of mind altering drugs. I just cant stand being surrounded by skinny Japanese girl, so I tried my best. Eventually, I got back to normal bmi after 5 months, and I also got my (ex) boyfriend back, but not for long.

The first year in Liverpool was fun, I get to do 3D and very complex model with many state variables, and different nutrients and plankton component. People were impressed with what I have done, until I joined a cruise from the Falkland Islands back to Southampton in February 2022. It was a 6 week cruise. My (then) boyfriend wasnt keen on me joining the cruise but I enjoyed it a lot. I love the routine, and seeing different plankton swimming about, talking to different scientists, and do yoga almost every day. I have never felt like a scientist before. Almost every day I strive to do my best.

However, after the cruise, I feel like something snapped, and I cannot do science anymore. I feel like it's hard to go back to the normal routine of looking at model output and wondering what might be going on in 2100, under RCP8.5 scenario. My brain fried so hard I think I failed every task. My boss even snapped at me for not being able to ask the 'big picture question'. Perhaps I'm a bad scientist from the beginning and its just somehow lots of people have been carrying me around. I feel like everything is blank and bleak. Maybe I should quit science?

I started getting my 'consciousness' back a few months ago, and only started to grasp what is happening after repeatedly being told off by my boss (what a man with infinite patience). I am starting to grasp what I can do and slowly crawling back into the depths of hell. However, since I know my boss is not keen on me as a postdoc, I decided that I have to leave. So I apply for a different job, a permanent one, and a job where I, hopefully, does not need to ask big picture question. I like getting stuck in and do the coding, and plot my results so I can brainstorm with others to see what is wrong with plankton? Why are things happening like this? I suppose I will never be at my boss' calibre.

Now everyday feels like I'm just trying to survive. I'm starting to hate going to the office and make small talk. I used to enjoy swimming, now it feels like a chore. Eating or cooking isn't enjoyable anymore. Cakes taste stale. I am living on microwaved rice and instant noodles. I dont want to be too skinny again, because I have never swam this fast. The pills that kept me sane dont seem to do their job anymore. All I want is just lay in bed and not doing anything, and cry.

I initially thought that I am starting to lose my sanity because I met someone on the cruise, and fell in love. I split up with my (ex) boyfriend just before I stepped on to dry land, to be with this guy. It worked and fortunately he loves me to. He moved in not long after we finished the cruise. I have never been with someone I love, and maybe this whole 'my brain is broken' thing is because my brain chemistry is not in balance. But I dont know, with him around life do get a bit easier, but all i want to do is just joking around with him and go for long walks on the beach. I cant be bothered doing science anymore, or even just living in general. Have I been showing symptoms of burnout?

I hope my new relationship will last forever. I do hope that he can see me shine, and stays in love with me. I hope my new job will bring me a some happiness, and can make me shine brighter than before.

[themidnightcircusshow]

I'm sorry for inflicting Ian Mortimer on you but I found a thing from his introduction in his Henry IV bio that's like. deranged.

Nevermind the speculation about Richard setting the Lancastrian inheritance on Hal, Richard will be inevitably usurped!!!! And then we'd truly see what a failboat loser Henry V was and how Henry "David Beckham+Winston Churchill but better" IV is truly the great man in history!!!

Me reading this like

Breaking it down:

Just from the first line: why does he make Henry so petty oh my gosh.

Also no, just asking if things would have turned out differently if their roles were reversed does not automatically imply they were the same competency level.

Is it because I mostly look at 1413 through the lense of what was happening with Hal, or was the country really not that stable? A lot of the problems Henry V had in his early reign (i.e. the French, the Lollards, partially Southampton) were just carry overs from his father's reign. And a lot of the political factions that were dueling in Henry IV's reign either left or were fired at the start of Henry V's. That was either Hal cleaning house or Henry IV's supporters essentially leaving en masse, which doesn't suggest a whole lot of stability. And again, a lot of the credit for settling the Welsh rebellion is given to Hal, not Henry.

Why would Hal have usurped Richard though? Why is that inevitable? Richard could have adopted Hal instead, we don't know! And yeah, I was thinking that-- even if it wasn't the Duchy of Lancaster, Richard was trying to arrange Hal's marriage to a Valois, and I highly doubt the French would have allowed their princess to be married off to someone without a Duchy at minimum.

(The mental image of Richard taking the Duchy of Lancaster from Henry and giving it to Hal is hilarious though).

Also, as far as I can tell the Welsh rebellion had nothing to do with who was king (though it was probably taken as a good time to strike), so really wouldn't it have been Richard's problem? And the Scottish border was always an issue, even if it did get worse under Henry's reign. The French might not have been a problem at all for Hal if Richard had lived long enough to arrange Hal's marriage. Most of all, a lot of the Ricardians seem to have ended up on Hal's side, and he essentially had to deal with a repeat of the Epiphany plot with Southampton, so...