#yes I’m British yes I’m really off from May until March

[cupcakeatsea]

I think it’s lucky that rarely have both arms available to write at the moment, because it’s clear to me I’d spend a lot more time sharing my stupid fucking thoughts about a tv show.

And believe me, I’m going stupid because my brain can’t do clever. Sleep deprivation got me in a chokehold.

My arms are fine and I love sleep, I just have a baby in them a lot. I also often have just have one had free to scroll. I also keep reading fics because what else am I doing at 3am while feeding. Basically, so far my maternity leave has been sponsored by thinking of 911 and Buddie fics. I don’t go back to work until March, I WILL BE HERE TOO MUCH.

[bluefirewrites]

8 and 45 for juke pls!

8. roommates AU

45. pretending to hate each other AU

SEND ME A SHIP AND A NUMBER AND I’LL WRITE A SHORT FIC

*****

Julie and Luke collapse onto their couch, both looking worse for wear. But once the door shut behind them, and ensuring that the curtains are drawn, they let themselves relax into each other.

It’s a lot of work, running around and doing what they’re doing, putting on the theatrics to keep the whole world from finding out, but it’s all the more worth it- to come home and be with each other. 

Julie groans, kicking off her boots, not caring where they land on the floor,"One day...we're gonna tell them."

Her statement’s immediately met with a scoff, though it sounds more like a pained wince, given what they just narrowly escaped.

"Oh yeah, that'd be a good idea,” Luke grumbles, tugging Julie closer to him. He just wants to bury his face into her curls and let his worries slip away. 

But Julie, ever the realist, keeps prodding at the dreaded subject. 

“Can we keep this up though?”

“Alright, but what would I say? ‘I've been rooming with the girl who's always foiling our plans’?"

Julie untangles herself from his hold and gives her super villain roommate a pointed look, "They've already met me."

"Yeah. As Julie. They don't know you're Miss Butterfly." He nods at her purple leather get up. 

"But I know them as Alex and Reggie. Not your evil accomplices. Here's to- I don't know- hoping that when they find out, that they'll see me for me,"

The ‘like you did’ is very much there even if it has gone unspoken. 

Luke has to admit, he didn’t take the news very well when he found out about Julie’s identity. 

With the life he’s led- being one of L.A’s most notorious criminals, he’s always moving around, making sure his cover’s not blown. So when he got matched up with Julie on his hunt for a new roommate, he thought he hit the jackpot. 

Works late hours? Rarely home? Friendly but keeps to herself? That way he could keep doing his job. 

Little did he know it’s because Julie was hiding a secret of her very own. 

For Julie, as reputable hero Miss Butterfly, would keep running into Dark Riff and his band of thieves on her rounds. Actually fighting him almost every night. The papers had actually dubbed them as the arch nemeses, which had been true. For a while. 

That was until, they both caught the other one trying to sneak back into their apartment, still suit up no less. 

(The fight on their balcony had been intense- kinda legendary-until they figured it out). 

They had sat at their kitchen table afterwards, nursing their injuries. At point, Julie had tossed him a bag of frozen peas from the freezer. Which was the least she could do since she had given him the black eye to begin with. 

“So what happens now?”

Luke thought that now that Julie knows who he is, she would march him to the station and turn him in. Julie thought the same. 

“Sounds like a morning conversation,” 

And with that they dropped it, and headed to their respective rooms. They spend the whole night ruminating over what happened, trying to grapple with the fact that their lovely roommate had been their arch nemesis this whole time. 

Breakfast the following morning was normal. The sight of Julie, out of her costume, making pancakes for them like usual, is enough to knock some sense into Luke. 

He likes rooming with her. And he likes the area. He doesn’t want to up and move just yet. He could tell that’s the last thing Julie wants too. 

“No one else knows?” Julie had asked him over coffee. No handcuffs, no calls to the police just yet. 

“Let’s keep it that way,” 

“For both of our sakes,” 

And so the arrangement was struck. 

They keep up their hero-villain act at night, but in the day they’re just Julie and Luke, roommates. 

Somehow along the way ‘roommates’ turned to ‘friends’. 

Maybe it started when Julie found out Luke’s background. How he and his friends had been on the streets for the longest time until they joined up with The Magician, the city’s crime boss, and began their life of crime. 

Maybe it started when Luke found out why Julie became a vigilante in the first place. To help those like her mother did, the original Miss Butterfly, until her untimely passing. 

They started to understand each other more, though Julie never fully approved of Luke’s less than legal activities. But Julie has to admit that out of her villain roster, Dark Riff may be the least rotten of them all. He’s a thief but at least he’s not like The Magician (hence his knack for making people ‘disappear’). 

And ‘friends’ eventually morphed into- well... whatever it is they have now. 

On off nights, Luke would be waiting by their balcony, ready to tend to Julie’s injuries if necessary. On one memorable occasion, he pressed a kiss to her bandaged knuckles, with a warning to be careful next time. Julie must have turned a few shades redder from that simple act alone... 

And there was another time when Reggie’s cover was about to be blown, the closest he had ever been to getting caught by the police, and Miss Butterfly had ‘accidentally’ left her knife behind, which helped him escape. 

Luke had returned the knife to her, grateful. Because if anything were to happen to his boys-

“I don’t know what you’re talking about...” She merely said, “And is it your turn to pick the movie or mine?” 

He smiled and chose Dirty Dancing. Her favorite. They end up snuggling into each other on the couch. 

Then It happened at a museum heist. Finally. After nearly half a year of them living together. When she spotted him on the roof, humming that song he’s been working on- music being his true passion, much like hers. 

And so she kissed him, the skyscrapers and night sky as their backdrop, the wailing security alarms as their soundtrack. 

How romantic. 

Another secret to keep. 

Julie knows it’s been tough on Luke, hiding this, hiding her, from Alex and Reggie- who had nearly walked in on their personas making out an hour earlier before Julie took action and swiped at Luke’s feet and initiating a well convincing fight. (They always pull their punches). 

Now they’re back in their apartment and Luke is tired.

"Look, Julie. I want to tell the guys. Really. But it's not Alex and Reggie that I'm worried about,"

"The Magician doesn't scare me," Julie assures. 

He bristles at the mention of his ‘boss’, "I know you can take care of yourself, but I don't the bubble to pop. And he for sure would pop it."

If Caleb found out that he’s with Julie, then he would for sure exploit it. Blackmail, threaten her loved ones, not to mention what would be waiting for Luke since he had elected to keep this vital information to himself. 

"Or maybe you could... leave the life of crime behind?” Julie throws out there. She bats her eyelashes at him, “Join me?"

"But being ‘bad’,” He mimes the air quotations, “is all I've ever known.” 

“You’re not bad,” Reaching for his face, Julie peels the domino mask off of him, “You’re...” 

Luke leans in, eyes fluttering closed, “I’m what?” 

“You...” Julie does the same, but as she nears, her face puckers into a sour expression and recoils, “You reek!” 

Luke pouts, sniffing his own leather garb, “I don’t smell that bad!” 

“We fought at a cannery! You smell like fish”

With a chuckle, he ignores this and wraps his arms around her. She squeals. 

“No, no, no- ew! Luke!” 

Luke takes it a step further and tickles her into submission, and so now that he’s hovering over her on the couch. 

“I guess I found out Miss Butterfly’s weakness then,” he smirks before he kisses her.

Julie’s hands weave into his hair, drawing him closer, and with a smirk of her own, still in the kiss, she tugs on the strands, making Luke gasp and pull away. She takes the opening and rolls him off of her. 

“And I know yours,” she retorts. 

Luke groans, “Not fair,”

“You started it!” She sticks her tongue out at him and points to the hallway, “Go take a shower!”

“And then Great British Bake-Off?” 

Julie smiles, “Yes.” 

“Sweet,”

They both take their turns getting cleaned up. Now, costumes off, back to being Julie and Luke again, they flip on the TV. 

“One day,” Luke says as they scroll through Netflix, “One day we’ll figure this out. And we won’t have to hide anymore.” 

“Yeah,” Julie agrees, “One day. But for now, for me, this is good.” 

“Me too,” 

credit to @lydias--stiles for their super hero/ super villain names. 

[iam93percentstardust]

First of all, Happy Birthday Month!!! Many happy returns!! I have been reading fanfiction for e very long time, but this is the 1st time I have ever submitted a prompt. I kinda think Stuckony would be great but I am down with Winteriron or Stony, wherever the prompt takes you. You're amazing so I know it's gonna be fantastic! Thanks in advance!💜💜💜 “Is that your robot?” “That’s a rude way to talk about my husband.”

This was such a fun prompt to write, thanks for sending it in! And thank you for the birthday wishes!

As always, everything I write is also on ao3

~

Something taps against Bucky’s foot. At first, he ignores it, figuring someone just bumped into him, but then it happens again and then for a third time. He looks down, fully expecting to see a small child, only to see a small gold and blue robot run into his shoe, back up, and then run right into it again. It looks a little like an atom with a central core and three rings spinning around it in multiple directions. He smiles at the oddly charming behavior and bends down to pick the robot up, wondering if it came from one of the many glittering exhibits he and Steve have walked past today or if it belongs to someone.

“Hey, Stevie,” he begins, thinking to share it with his husband, but when he looks around, Steve isn’t anywhere near him. Bucky sighs and turns in a circle, hoping to spot him somewhere in the packed crowd. Who knew the Stark Expo would draw so many people on a Tuesday in the middle of March? “Stevie, you’re too small to wander off like this.”

He feels a tug on the hem of his coat and then a small voice primly says, “Excuse me, Mister Sir, that’s mine.”

“Huh?” He looks down again, this time to see a young girl of about six or seven years holding onto his jacket. “Oh! Is this your robot?” he asks, crouching down to her level.

“That’s a rude way to talk about my husband,” she informs him, holding her hand out for the robot.

Bucky blinks at her. He’s heard about kids playing pretend with their toys but that’s usually things like Legos or dolls, right? Not a whirring, circular robot that doesn’t even have a face.

“Can I please have Jarvis back?” the girl asks, insistently tugging on his coat again.

“Oh, sure, sorry about that.” He passes it back to her and then looks around, hoping to spot the girl’s parents before she realizes she’s left them. He’s dealt with plenty of upset kids at the school he and Steve work at, so he’s more than capable of handling any meltdown she might have, but he’d like to stave it off if he can. Unfortunately, he doesn’t spot anyone frantically looking for a lost kid, so he’s just getting ready to resign himself to dealing with a crying kid when Steve appears from out of nowhere.

“Hey, Buck, sorry about that, got sidetracked by one of the exhibits. The person works with sand and sound to make art, it was really—” He stops short at the sight of the girl hugging her robot. “Bucky. You didn’t pick up another stray, did you?”

“Excuse me?” Bucky asks, affronted. “I never—”

“No? So what’s Alpine then? Or Dodger? Or, for that matter, me?” Steve crouches down next to the girl and holds out his boney hand for her to shake. “Hey, kid, my name’s Steve. This is Bucky. What’s your name?”

She gives him a suspicious look, but must decide that he’s safe because she says after a moment, “Morgan.”

“Well, Miss Morgan, why don’t we see about finding your parents?” Steve offers. “It looks like they’ve gotten lost.”

Morgan turns one way and then the other, noticing for the first time that she’s alone. Her lower lip trembles, eyes welling up with big, fat tears. “I—”

Bucky, sensing an impending meltdown, quickly says, “Hey, it’s okay. We’ll find them. We grown-ups are pretty good at getting lost. It’s up to brave kids like you to help us get found again.”

Morgan sniffs, but nods. “I’m here with Uncle Happy,” she says, sliding her small hand into Bucky’s.

“Then let’s find Uncle Happy,” Steve says decisively. “Would you like me to hold your robot?”

She shakes her head, clutching the robot tighter to her. “You can’t take JARVIS,” she says. “He’s mine.”

“Okay,” Bucky says soothingly. “We won’t take him away.” He shares a quick glance with Steve. “Should we start at Lost and Found?”

“If I may, Sirs,” the robot suddenly says in a cool British voice. Steve yelps, jumping away from it. Bucky startles, dropping Morgan’s hand.

Morgan giggles. “Don’t worry, that’s just Jarvis. He’s an artificial intelligence.” She pronounces the words carefully, like it’s something she’s been taught to say. She holds the robot up, who lights up with every word he says.

“The tracker in this device has been activated. There will be no need to move from this location. Sir will be here momentarily,” Jarvis tells them.

“Jesus, Mary, and Joseph,” Steve mutters, taking a closer look at the robot. “It talks.”

“I am Just A Rather Very Intelligent System or—”

“JARVIS,” Bucky realizes. “It’s an acronym, not a name.”

“Quite so, though I was named for Edwin Jarvis, an old friend of Sir’s.”

“And Sir is…?”

JARVIS lights up like it’s going to talk again but before it says anything, they hear someone say loudly, “Morgan H. Stark!”

Morgan’s face brightens and she turns, running right into the arms of a slender man in a suit, closely followed by another larger man. “Daddy!” she exclaims, throwing her arms around the man, who catches her up in a tight hug.

“What have we said about running off?” the man asks, sounding worried. He has a familiar voice, Bucky thinks. He wonders where he’s heard it before.

“I didn’t run off,” Morgan protests. “JARVIS did and I had to get him.”

“You didn’t think to tell Happy where you were going?” The man gently brushes her hair out of her eyes before straightening up, setting Morgan on his hip.

“I didn’t have time! JARVIS was moving too fast.”

The man makes a dissenting noise. “Flaw in your logic.”

She shakes her head. “No flaw.”

“Yes flaw. JARVIS has a tracker. You, O’ Great and Powerful Maguna, do not.”

It’s adorable watching the two of them together, seeing the way the man softens the longer he holds Morgan and the way Morgan leans into him. And it doesn’t hurt that the man is wildly attractive too: all big brown eyes and curly hair that Bucky wants to feel between his fingers (he bets they’re as soft as they look). Bucky feels something stir in his heart that he hasn’t felt since the day he met Steve. He quickly glances at Steve, wondering if Steve feels the same way. Steve’s eyes could practically be cartoon hearts, he’s melting so obviously, and Bucky smiles to himself. Maybe, if they play their cards right…

“But I didn’t get lost,” Morgan protests and points at Bucky and Steve. “I had Mister Bucky and Mister Steve.”

Abruptly, all the warmth drains out of the man’s expression. He looks at Bucky and Steve coldly, mouth a thin, tight line. “Oh you did, did you?” He turns to the second man behind him. “Happy, could you take Morgan for a moment?”

“Daddy—” But Happy—who looks more like an Angry than a Happy—has already nodded and taken her from the man’s arms.

“You got it, boss.”

The man now stalks closer to Bucky and Steve. “Alright,” he says abruptly. “How much do I owe you?”

Steve’s expression goes blank. “I’m sorry?” he repeats, voice tense with hidden anger.

“What do you want for this?” the man says. “Finder’s fee, something to keep you quiet, what do you want?”

“Look, I don’t know who you think you are—” Steve begins heatedly, right as Bucky realizes where he’s seen this man before.

“Stevie, stop,” he mutters, catching Steve’s arm before he can get too angry and take a swing at the guy. “That’s Tony Stark.”

“Huh?” Steve looks again and then his face clears. “Oh. This must happen a lot, huh?”

Stark glances between the two of them, looking confused now, rather than angry. That’s good; that’s something Bucky can work with.

“Look, we’re sorry about all this,” Bucky says apologetically. “But we’re really not trying to cause trouble. Morgan’s robot ran into my foot, that’s how we met. We didn’t even know who she was until you got here. You don’t need to pay us off or anything.”

“Really,” Stark states suspiciously. “So I’m not going to wake up tomorrow and all the headlines are saying that I can’t take care of my kid?”

“We’re both teachers,” Steve says, gesturing at him and Bucky. “We know kids wander off all the time. They’re more slippery than a bar of soap in the shower. You’re not going to hear anything from us.”

Stark slumps and runs a hand through his hair. He looks tired all of a sudden, not that Bucky can blame him now that he knows this entire Expo is being run by him. “Sorry,” he says quietly. “You just can’t be too careful in this line of business.”

“I can imagine,” Bucky says soothingly. “If it would help, we’d be happy to sign an NDA.”

“Pepper would probably kill me if I didn’t ask you to,” Stark admits. He sighs. “Great, first time I contact her since the divorce and it’s about my fuckup.”

“You’re not a fuckup,” Steve insists. “Seriously, this happens all the time. Just last week, I had a kid decide he wanted to keep looking at the snails in the Botanical Gardens we took the kids to while the rest of us went to lunch. Took me an hour to find him.”

Tony gives him a hopeful look. “Really?”

“Really. It’s okay. You’re not a bad parent.”

“I’ve just—I’m supposed to be presenting in—” He checks his watch.

Happy shouts, “Five minutes ago, boss.”

“It’s my presentation, I think they can wait for me if I’m running late. Morgan didn’t want to wait while I was prepping so I asked Happy to take her to see some of the exhibits. I didn’t think she’d wander away.”

“Well, hey, we’d hate to make you any later,” Bucky says. “So we’ll let you—”

Morgan pipes up, “Daddy, can’t Mister Bucky and Mister Steve come too?”

“Well—”

“They were so nice,” she says, making her eyes big and wide. “And I think we should be nice and let them watch.”

Stark smiles helplessly at her. “You know what that is? That’s extortion.” He turns to Bucky and Steve again and shrugs. “Do you want to come? It’ll be backstage, so you won’t get to see as much as you would if you were watching from the front. But it’ll be fun, I’m presenting the new arc reactor. Oh—and please, call me Tony. We’re all friends here, no need to stand on formalities.”

Steve and Bucky have one of their silent conversations that always bothers their friends. “Are you sure?” Steve asks. “We wouldn’t want to be a bother.”

Tony gives Bucky a very obvious onceover, followed by a look at Steve, just as obvious and just as hungry. “Oh yes,” he murmurs. “I’m sure.”

“Then we’d love to,” Bucky says, giving Tony a onceover of his own. He and Steve don’t often invite a third partner to their bed, but there’s just something about Tony.

“Great!” Tony chirps. His eyes go dark and heated as he adds, “And maybe afterwards, we can talk about a way to pay you back for helping Morgan out.”

“Tony, really, we don’t need anything,” Steve begins.

“Please,” Tony purrs. “I insist.”

[swiftgronmasterpost]

GRYLES!!!

Rebuilding the Gryles Timeline expertly crafted here because I’m always afraid of broken links and people going private and losing data.

Not only is there a ton of great evidence that these guys were dating such as Harry leaving Nick’s place in the morning wearing the same clothes as he’d worn the night before, I’ve also got a friend who works in the UK music industry and she did tell me these guys did date.  Nick is 100% out as gay so it really does all add up.

Gryles very obviously takes place during Haylor, debunking Harry as the 1989 muse, and if it’s not Harry you do have to wonder... who with green eyes and an obsession with Alice and Wonderland was heavily featured in Taylor’s life and then disappeared before 1989 - a breakup album about someone with green eyes who seems to relate to Alice in Wonderland drops?

You get it.

Anyway here’s Gryles:

This is a little game I like to call "let's talk about Nick/Harry dates and how they line up with Harry leaving and entering the country".

06. February 5th 2012 - Harry and Nick go to a Super Bowl party together.

One Direction in Sweden February 12th - 14th. (Came home by train on the 14th.)

07. February 14, 2012 - VALENTINE'S DAY!

08. February 18, 2012 - Stella McCartney Fashion show with Nick's mom.

09. February 21, 2012 - Brit Awards!

10. February 22, 2012 - They attend a party together. (Nick might have been DJing?)

11. February 23, 2012 - Harry spotted leaving Nick Grimshaw's flat in the same outfit he was wearing the night before.

The morning of February 23rd One Direction flies to the US for their tour and doesn't return to the UK until April 24th, 2012.

This trip is supposedly where Haylor 1.0 happens.  Harry supposedly meets Taylor at the KCA’s on March 31 and they fall for one another.  Taylor supposedly goes to NYC to be with Harry (even though she spends the whole time with Dianna) during the first week of April.  Then they supposedly enter into a long distance relationship that is broken up because Harry was seen out with another girl.

All the while the last thing Harry does before he leaves the UK is spend the night with Nick and then the first thing he does is goes back to him.

Yeah, I’m not buying Haylor 1.0 it seems pretty clear to me that Taylor wanted to pin I Knew You Were Trouble on Harry as a big pop anthem to support her transition to pop.  I think it’s even possible they faked Harry being spotted out with that girl or perhaps he and Nick had some kind of agreement.  I’m not saying Gryles was always exclusive (they may have been), but regardless I don’t see Red era Taylor being cool enough to share her boyfriend with a man.

12. April 25, 2012 - Nick and Harry out together the morning after he returned.

Harry also calls into Nick's radio show on the 25th and confirms that the first thing he did upon returning on the 24th was meet up with Nick and Matt Fincham for drinks so one can theorize he probably crashed w/ Nick that night.

Harry goes to LA by himself on May 1st and returns to the UK on the 5th.

May 5th, 2012 - Harry out with Annie Mac and Nick. (Thanks to my anon for clueing me into this little gem of information.)

13. May 7th, 2012 - Harry and Nick out with friends

One Direction goes to Sweden from May 10th to May 16th.

14. May 17, 2012 - The Sun reports Harry driving Nick to work.

Also out shopping together

15. May 19, 2012 - Nick posts a picture to his instragram from the Kanye West/Jay Z show at the O2.

Who cares right? So he went to see a show. But then.

Hey guess what happened the very next day? One Direction flew to Boston on May 20th, 2012 to start their summer tour in the U.S. They're gone from the 20th to July 3rd.

16. July 5, 2012 - Nick and Harry attend the launch of Tinie Tempah's shoes line.

There's some downtime and vacation time here where Harry disappears for a week while Louis is France w/ Eleanor, Niall goes to Spain, Liam and Danielle are on vacation, etc and then One Direction goes back to work July 11th recording and doing photo shoots.

17. July 19, 2012 - Harry goes out with Nick and Aimee and tweets this.

18. August 10, 2012 - Harry attends Nick's 28th birthday party at La Bodega Negra.

Pregaming before the party!

Outside La Bodega Negra

19. August 11, 2012 - Primrose Hill picnic

20. August 20, 2012 - One Direction visit Nick at BBCR1 to announce their headlining of the BBC Radio 1 Teen Choice Awards.

21. August 25, 2012 -

Nick and Harry go to lunch. (Would also like to point out that they are switching places and that Harry is going to the driver's side of Nick's car :333)

and then to Reading Festival

then Nick accompanies Harry to Liam's party at Funky Buddha

and then they leave together and go see Rita Ora at G.A.Y.

22. August 26, 2012 - The morning after, Nick tweets a shot of his hangover breakfast from Harry's Range Rover (Nick owns a Mercedes).

then a lunch date with several people

They spend this entire day together and this is the day the pics of them in the grocery store  are taken where Nick buys Harry a banana, etc

and then Harry drops Nick off for his nighttime show and picks him up again to take him to/stay with him while Nick DJs at Wonderland nightclub.

(Although, lbr. Given what we learn from Nick's final nighttime show about how often Harry hung around the studio, he probably never left.)

Wonderland! (the only time that fucking song has any bearing on Harry and he’s off being a MLM king)

23. August 28, 2012 - Leaving Nick's flat

spotted in the studio w/ Nick at BBCR1

24. August 30, 2012 - Harry films the Breakfast Show advert for Nick's #Team Grimmy commercial and then they go to Mahiki Club that night.

25. August 31, 2012 - Harry goes with Nick to his DJ gig at Paradise

and then to karaoke afterward

The lo and behold One Direction flies to Florida the very next day to film their Pepsi commercial. They're gone until September 11th.

on September 6, 2012 Taylor has Sushi with Ed and Harry in LA supposedly signaling the start of Haylor 2.0 as if Harry is not fully boyfriends with Nick.

26. September 12, 2012 - Nick's final nighttime show. (this was a gif of them being cute and playing around but I was too lazy to bring it over, you get it they’re touchy, flirty, and playful):

Nick and Aimee go on vacation together from the 14th to the 18th.

27. September 18, 2012 - This dude says he spotted Harry Styles waiting in arrivals at the airport while waiting for his sister's flight to arrive insinuating perhaps Harry was traveling with Nick and Aimee:

28. September 20, 2012 - iTunes Festival where One Direction was interviewed by Nick and Annie Mac

29. Harry calls into Nick's first Breakfast Show on September 25, 2012. Then they meet up after to see Perks of Being a Wallflower together. I can't find the tweets from the ladies who saw them there, but Nick and Emma Watson confirm later that Harry was indeed there.

30. September 29, 2012 - Spotted at Waitrose together and then the following morning Nick regales his listeners with the tale of a Spinach pie he made for a ~friend~.

31. October 5th (or 6th?), 2012 - Preparation for Ladz FM

But also on October 5th, Taylor is on Nick’s show:

32. October 6, 2012 - Ladz FM

Supposedly on this show Nick gives Harry hell for Taylor, the Haylor timeline I like puts it this way:

“One Direction and Harry make an appearance on Nick’s show the following day, and they talk about Taylor on-air for 4 minutes straight. Nick teases Harry by saying “Ol’ Swiftyyyy” over and over again when she is brought up in the conversation.” Yup that’s right, Nick was giving his own boyfriend shit about his fake girlfriend 😭😭😭 this is why I fuck w Nick’s energy.

then they went for lunch in notting hill (no Taylor? why not Harry aren’t you so happy to be back with her and in love w her?)

33. October 7, 2012 - BBC Teen Choice Awards

One Direction doing promotion for the new album.

Paris - October 11, 2012

Ireland - October 12, 2012

Manchester - October 16, 2012

Leeds - October 17, 2012

34. October 19, 2012 - Lunch in London

October 31 - One Direction in Spain

Early November One Direction goes to the US for Ellen, X Factor USA, and The Today Show. After The Today Show Harry flies to LA while the rest of One Direction goes back to London. Harry writes a song with the lead singer of Snow Patrol and rumors start flying about him hooking up with Taylor Swift.

Harry arrives back in London on November 16, 2012.

35. November 16, 2012 - Children in Need benefit concert

November 30th One Direction goes back to the U.S. for one off shows and MSG show. Haylor happens.

Harry returns to London on December 8th via Taylor's private jet and plays the Jingle Ball with the rest of One Direction. Harry and Taylor tour the UK together until December 15th when Taylor leaves for France.  Meanwhile Dianna heads out on a mystery 14 hour long flight on December 14th.

36. December 16, 2012 - Roast Dinner!

One Direction returns to the U.S. for the X Factor USA finale. Harry stays in the U.S. and goes on a ski vacation with Taylor Swift, Justin Bieber, and Selena Gomez.

He returns to the UK on December 24th.

37. December 25, 2012 - Late night Christmas leftovers. (Yes they’re spending Christmas together, that’s boyfriend behavior!)

Harry and Nick both leave London on the 29th (Nick for Puerto Rico and Harry for NYC) Harry spends New Years with Taylor and Nick spends New Years with Pixie, Aimee, and the rest of the hipster crew. Harry and Taylor then fly to Gorda British Virgin Islands where they are supposed to vacation until the 7th. Taylor leaves on the 4th and Harry goes to Necker Island alone. Tabloids say Harry and Taylor have broken up.

And that’s it for Haylor!

Harry arrives back in the UK on January 8th

38. January 8, 2013 - Sushi lunch date! (tweet confirming nick was also there.)

and harry with the girl who tweeted it.

39. January 10, 2013 - Tinie Tempah's GQ dinner.

The party was for people on the British GQ best dressed list (Nick was on it. Harry was not.)

Jessie J puts a picture of the table cards from her table on instagram. Harry doesn't have one which, you know. I'll just be here imagining him as Nick's + 1.

One Direction fly to Ghana on the 12th or 13th and return on the 15th. On the 16th Harry calls into Grimmy’s show to talk about how Fincham DOES NOT LOOK LIKE A MEMBER OF ONE DIRECTION. Finchy asks Harry when he’s back and Harry says “in a couple of days”. (Small side note here that I don’t think Finchy and Harry are at the level of friends where they keep track of one another’s schedules so the only way Finchy could have known that Harry was heading back out of town to Japan that very day is if Nick told him.)

One Direction in Japan from January 16th to the 20th.

I'm not going to count this as a time they were together because I have no hard evidence, but the night of January 20th Harry was spotted in a grocery store buying wine and Annie Mac mentions on her show that Nick ditched coming over for dinner that evening to have a friend round to his house instead. We assume it was Harry, but w/o actual proof I don't want to say it concretely.

40. January 21, 2013 - Baking for Radio 1! (Tweet confirming the friend was Harry.)

Nick tells this story the morning of the 22nd about how he forgot he had to bake, so he got up from bed, went to the store for supplies, and forgot eggs. So, he texted his friend who was coming over to bring eggs and then Nick baked while his friend yelled at him to add more butter.

41. January 22, 2013 - Watching Great British Bake Off

Do what you will with this one. Obviously there is not definite way to tell if this is Harry or not, but given the evidence of the amount of time they spend together that has been laid forth thus far, I feel comfortable saying those are indeed Harry's legs.

42. January 31, 2013 - Out for Harry's birthday at La Bodega Negra (the same place they celebrated Nick's birthday.)

Nick also went to Groucho Club afterward with Harry and mentioned on his show this morning that he hadn't slept at all. (He was still wearing the same outfit.)

43. February 1, 2013 - Aimee tweets about being in the car with Nick en route to play Laser Quest. (Can't imagine who they might be playing with.)

Nick tweeted this :)

Never

Getting

Over

This

February 19, 2013 - PreBrit Awards Dinner Hosted by Nick!

THEIR SMILEY LITTLE FACES. :3

Legit SHARING A TAXI ON THE WAY HOME

2/20/13 - At the Brit Awards together!

Leaving an after party!

taking a cab to Nick's house so Nick can change for work

hands hands hands

At Nick's flat

 2/21/13 - On The Breakfast show the morning after the Brits!

Harry on The Breakfast Show!

2/23/2013 - Nick attends One Direction's first show at the O2 in London

THE DROUGHT IS OVER!!!

8/21/2013 - Nick interviews Harry, Zayn, and Liam for TBS

Then Nick and Harry hook up later for dinner.

September 12, 2013

Harry gets off the plane from LAX, gets on the tube and meets Nick at an Elton John concert

Harry and Nick's dad at the concert, posted to Nick's instagram.

September 13, 2013

This person says they saw nick and Harry at Apartment 58 (members only club) together

https://twitter.com/LightbownL/status/378610145271771136

But, Sadie Frost also posted a picture of her and Nick getting ready to go out for LFW with no mention of Harry, so the tweet could be false facts.

But then! September 14, 2013

Sadie posts this picture of Nick sleeping on her sofa

Followed by this picture of Harry posing with her daughter

And then Nick and Harry went to Henry Hollands show at LFW together

Then to a pub with Gemma, Kelly Osborn and others

Then to dinner with James Corden and his wife

September 15, 2013

September 17, 2013 - Fashion Show East in London

November 9, 2013 - Breakfast with Anne and Robin at the Wolseley.

So Anne tweeted this in the morning. You can see the Wolseley logo at the top of the plate.

Then this girl got a pic with Harry at the Wolseley during his breakfast with Anne and Robin.

and she confirmed that Nick was eating with them https://twitter.com/alexandra_imper/status/400204985222193152

Then off to Selfridges to shop!

At Alexa Chung's birthday party!

November 10, 2013 - Ladz instagram and Aimee Phillips birthday party!

LADZ VIDEO!

November 30, 2013

Harry playing with Puppy at Nick's house.

Poppy Delevingne's hen party!

Leaving Groucho club.

December 1, 2013

Primrose Hill lighting ceremony!

Nick with Daisy Lowe and his dad!

Then this girl met Nick

https://twitter.com/rpcheald/status/407224559687852032/photo/1

and saw Harry

https://twitter.com/rpcheald/status/407209332858552320

Class of '92 movie premiere

Nick and his dad on the red carpet

Harry meeting Beckham!

December 4, 2013 - London Fashion Awards

February 17, 2014 - Taking a random taxi ride?????

and leaving Nick's flat

March 29, 2014

Sleepover at Harry's house!

Nick posted this on instagram

http://instagram.com/p/mHpTBdPJyt/

At the time we weren't sure it was Harry's drive but...

https://twitter.com/cuppanarryx/status/481310537817399296/photo/1

Hiya, doggie.

Also Nick's tweet from the morning after just because.

https://twitter.com/grimmers/status/449814322399940609

May 24, 2014 - Radio 1's Big Weekend

May 28, 2014 - Barry's BC London

And link to post about the other tweets x

June 8, 2014

Nick attends One Directions show at Wembley Stadium.

June 12, 2014

Harry at Nick driving around London in a Ferrari.

and another tweet about the Ferarri sighting.

https://twitter.com/ItsJustMikey/status/477133631602065408

Then later that evening Harry went to Nick's for his World Cup barbecue and fans took pics with Harry outside Nick's house.

[nagisasstunningpersonality]

The Japanese School Year (why Karma is one of the youngest)

Why not start 2021 with some knowledge, right? 

So, for those who don’t know, the Japanese school year is very different to what (mostly Western centric) a lot of people seem to think it is. And, I mean, it is literally a canon plot point that Korosensei’s death is at the END of the year, so I don’t think it’s too technical to point this out. 

What do we see at that time? Or in basically any anime ever?

Cherry blossoms! Yep, the Japanese school year starts and ends in spring. Take April 1st as your typical cut off date, as opposed to August//September. I touched on this in my timeline post, but the term runs up until the middle/end of July (usually around Nagisa’s birthday). At that point, they have a summer break up until September. To repeat, term one is from April to July. 

Typically, Japanese schools break up on like Christmas Eve kind of time, since Christmas isn’t really as much of a thing (except the actual Christian ones - which do exist fun fact). It’s not a national holiday or anything. But there’s a long enough break for New Years, which is a whole celebration. Important note that I am pretty sure Kunugigaoka actually breaks up a little earlier than this, though it’s still definitely late December. 

As someone who literally studied in Japan, it’s unclear to even me if the period between January - March counts as a separate term or not? Though, I’m far more inclined to say no, and count it as a continuation of term two when schools go back in January. Typically, entrance exams (for high school and university) happen in the winter. Then, finally, they get a short break in March before returning to school, moving up a year, in April. 

So yes, for the majority of the show both Karma and Gakushuu are fourteen.

So, to list 3E in age order, oldest to youngest (dates in British order): 

Okano (2/04) > Terasaka (10/04) > Hazama (6/05) > Hara (8/05) > Chiba (20/05) > Okajima (9/06) > Kimura (12/06) > Kataoka (15/06) > Hayami (12/07) > Nagisa (20/07) > Yada (1/08) > Yoshida (19/08) > Sugino (23/08) > Nakamura (24/08) > Muramatsu (25/08) >  Kurahashi (23/10) > Sugaya (25/10) > Okuda (7/11) > Kayano (9/11 - only counting her real birthday here) > Isogai (13/11) > Maehara (6/12) > Karma (25/12) > Takebayashi (29/1) > Mimura (1/02) > Fuwa (9/02) > Kanzaki (3/03) > Itona (31/03) > Ritsu (1/01 - but she’s literally like a year old or something) 

August must be an expensive month. 

I hope that this can clear up some stuff, anyway, especially when it comes to plot details like summer/winter breaks. But I went a little more into detail of the AC timeline in this post (I may make a more aesthetically easy to follow version at some point), if anyone wants more analysis of when specific events take place. 

TLDR: The Japanese school year starts in April, meaning that’s the age cut off to be in a year group. First term is April - July, second term is September - March. 

I’m just going to add a note here: Aguri’s entire existence really fucks up every piece of logic for any sort of reasonable timeline, so I’m just going to sit here and ignore that was a thing for a little while, until I figure it out. But yes, I am aware of it. 

[natromanxoff]

How prog were Queen?

By Dave Everley

On 9 January, 1971, Kevin Ayers and Genesis played a show together at the Ewell Technical College near Epsom in Surrey. Ayers was 18 months out of Soft Machine, and making a name for himself as a psychedelically-inclined art-folk rake. Genesis had released their second album, Trespass, a few months earlier, and were carving out a place in the vanguard of the burgeoning progressive rock movement.

There was a third band propping up the bill that night, a bunch of transplanted Londoners calling themselves Queen. In contrast to the wilfully artful approach of the headliners, their music was more straightforward: a heavy, if ornate blend of Led Zeppelin’s earthiness and the flights of fancy of Yes.

Not everyone in the small crowd watching them was impressed, but they caught the attention of one person. After the show, Genesis frontman Peter Gabriel pulled Queen’s blond-bombshell drummer Roger Taylor to one side. Gabriel’s band were about to dismiss their own drummer, John Mayhew, and were looking for a replacement. Was Taylor interested in joining Genesis? The reply was instant: thanks but no thanks. Taylor was utterly dedicated to Queen – there were gigs to play, places to go, and many musical adventures to embark on.

Had Taylor accepted the offer, the course of music – and specifically prog – would have been very different. Genesis would have flourished with Gabriel upfront, though whether they would have survived and prospered as they did without a Phil Collins to step into the breach after their talismanic singer’s departure was another matter.

The knock-on effect on Queen would have been greater. Taylor was an essential part of their carefully balanced four-way chemistry; a chemistry that would go on to throw up some of the most ambitious and game-changing music ever recorded. While Queen weren’t a capital ‘P’ prog band, they were infused with the spirit of the movement, combining its forward-looking values with its absolute disregard for the existing rules. Taking their cues from the likes of Yes, Genesis, Van der Graaf Generator and even Pink Floyd, their flamboyantly cavalier approach would go on to inspire such modern masters as Dream Theater, Queensrÿche and Muse. And, in Bohemian Rhapsody, they ensured that one of the biggest-selling singles in history was, at heart, a prog song. Forget the luxuriant moustaches and sawn-off mike-stands that would come to define them: if the prog ethos meant avoiding the expected, then Queen were definitely a prog band.

“Diversity was probably their greatest asset,” says former Dream Theater drummer and confirmed Queen devotee Mike Portnoy. “From song to song, they could be so different. You could have something that was folk followed by something that was rockabilly followed by something that was metal. And that’s one of the biggest things about prog, having that open-mindedness.”

Queen’s schooling in prog came early on. Brian May’s very first band, 1984, played a 4am slot supporting Pink Floyd at the Christmas On Earth Continued all-nighter in 1967. A year later, his next outfit, Smile – also featuring Roger Taylor – played with Floyd again, this time at London’s Imperial College. By the time of their gig opening for Kevin Ayers, Smile had changed their name to Queen and recruited Freddie Mercury. Collectively, they admired Yes, Van der Graaf Generator and especially Genesis. “Foxtrot is a prog rock classic,” Roger Taylor later wrote in the sleevenotes to Genesis box set 1970-1975. “Arrangements were highly complex in these early days, setting a benchmark for the style of the times.”

When it came to finding someone to produce their debut album, Queen’s first choice was John Anthony, who had worked with both Genesis and Van der Graaf. With Anthony and co-producer Roy Thomas Baker behind the desk, the eponymous album trod heavily in Led Zeppelin’s footsteps. But there was another, altogether more visionary band straining to spread their wings: My Fairy King was a filigreed slice of flamboyant rock’n’roll, while Liar metamorphosised through several different time changes and timings.

Those wings were fully unfurled on the follow-up, 1974’s Queen II. The title was the most prosaic thing about the record: the music inside was as fevered and baroque as rock gets, informed equally by Zeppelin, Yes and crazed Victorian artist Richard Dadd, whose 1864 painting The Fairy Feller’s Master-Stroke inspired one of the album’s most prog-leaning tracks. It may have been rooted in the heavy rock of the times, but its cavalier approach and sheer sense of scale pegged Queen as a defiantly progressive proposition.

“Queen weren’t like Yes, who had a dualistic role of guitar and keyboards, where both shared the terrain,” says Yes guitarist Steve Howe, supported by Queen at Kingston Poly in early 1971. “Brian had the terrain to himself. The remarkable thing was that he was the front and the back man. It required him to come up with more than guitar solos… He had to come up with a semi-thematic approach to play the guitar. And what he did was keep colouring.”

Queen’s prog inclinations would be deeply woven into the fabric of their early albums, from the audacious multi-part theatrics of Queen II’s March Of The Black Queen to the schizophrenic attack of the two-part Lap Of The Gods from 1974’s Sheer Heart Attack. Even in their more commercial moments, they marched to the beat of their own drum. What other band would have dared serve up something so unusual as Killer Queen?

“It was their diversity,” says Mike Portnoy, who first heard Queen as an eight-year-old in the mid-70s and covered many Queen songs while in Dream Theater. “Their albums took the prototype that The Beatles laid down with the White Album, where you had four different artists bringing in very different styles. Every song was so diverse. You get to A Night At The Opera, and you had this giant multi-layered epic like Bohemian Rhapsody next to something like Seaside Rendezvous or Love Of My Life.”

A Night At The Opera was Queen’s grand artistic statement and their most unashamedly prog album. Pitched around the epic twin tentpoles of The Prophet’s Song and Bohemian Rhapsody, it married their far-reaching vision to a distinctly British barminess. Taken on its own, the eight-minute The Prophets Song, with its incredible ornate a cappella middle section, would be enough to grant Queen access to the Prog Hall Of Fame. But even that sits in the inescapable shadow of Bohemian Rhapsody. Time and success might have lessened its impact, but that song remains the most dazzlingly unique piece of music ever to sell five million copies.

“There are epic things that come along every so often,” says Steve Howe. “There’s Sgt Pepper, there’s Bridge Over Troubled Water. And there’s Bohemian Rhapsody. I don’t know when I first heard it, but once it was there, it was such a formidable thing. You’re thinking: ‘How many tracks did they need to do those vocals? How did they write it? Who invented it? It really was astounding.”

Bohemian Rhapsody encapsulated one of the key things that gave Queen such a distinct identity. Like The Beatles and Beach Boys before them, they used the studio as an instrument – not least when it came to their vocals. And Bohemian Rhapsody raised the bar about as high as it could go.

“They sang each of those parts and triple-stacked them,” says Mike Portnoy. “You heard all three of their voices singing in all three vocal ranges. That’s what made the depth of their music so complex. It wasn’t the instrumentation, it was the vocals. That’s unusual for prog music. When I think of my favourite prog music, it’s always the musicianship that draws me. But with Queen, it was the vocals. It was so deep.”

For all its success, A Night At The Opera would be Queen’s grand kiss-off to their prog roots. Later albums streamlined their sound into a more conventional format. Much like Genesis, the 80s found them swapping experimentalism for chart rock.

It wasn’t until the end of their career as an active band that Queen would again sound so adventurous. During 1989 and 1990, the band began work on their penultimate album, Innuendo, in London and Montreux. In the summer of 1990, Yes guitarist Steve Howe paid a flying visit to the Swiss city, where a chance encounter with a former guitar tech found him being invited to Queen’s studio to hear the album as a work-in-progress.

“Inside, there’s Freddie, Brian and Roger all sitting together. They go: ‘Let’s play you the album,’” says Howe. “Of course, I’m hearing it for the first time: I Can’t Live Without You, I’m Going Slightly Mad. And they saved Innuendo itself until last. They played it and I was fucking blown away.”

If that was surprising, then what happened next was utterly out-of-the-blue. The members of Queen asked if Howe wanted to play on the title track. The Yes man politely suggested they’d lost their minds. It took the combined weight of Mercury, May and Taylor to persuade him.

“They all chimed in: ‘We want some crazy Spanish guitar flying around over the top. Improvise!’” recalls Howe. “I started noodling around on the guitar, and it was pretty tough. After a couple of hours, I thought: ‘I’ve bitten off more than I can chew here.’ I had to learn a bit of the structure, work out the chordal roots were, where you had to fall if you did a mad run in the distance; you have to know where you’re going. But it got towards evening, and we’d doodled and I’d noodled, and it turned out to be really good fun. We have this beautiful dinner, we go back to the studio and have a listen. And they go: ‘That’s great. That’s what we wanted.”

Released as a single in January 1991, Innuendo gave Queen their third Number One single. Like Bohemian Rhapsody 25 years before it, it was as unlikely as hit singles get: a six-and-a-half minute musical jigsaw, complete with flamenco runs, classically-inclined orchestral overloads and maverick 5/4 timing. Queensrÿche covered the song on 2007’s Take Cover album, while you can hear its echo in Radiohead’s Paranoid Android and Muse’s more elaborate sci-fi epics.

“In the world of rock, Queen stands out as a good example of the clash between guitar and piano in songwriting,” Muse’s Matt Bellamy has said. “I think that’s where you stumble across those more unusual arrangements and chord structures.”

Today, Queen have left a bi-polar legacy. They’re arguably best known for their pop hits – Radio Gaga, I Want To Break Free and of course, Bohemian Rhapsody, that ultimate prog Trojan Horse. But their spirit of adventure remains unmatched by all but the boldest of their peers.

“There was no rulebook for Queen,” says Mike Portnoy. “They broke most of the rules that existed, and then they wrote a new set.”

[im-the-punk-who]

The Real People of Black Sails!

Here’s a quick(I promise....I promise this is as short as I could make it without leaving out some really choice shit) rundown of all the real historical figures peppered throughout Black Sails! I think I caught them all but if you know of others please mention them and I’ll add them on! Under a readmore because this is....so long y’all.

Pirates & Maroons

Anne Bonny (possibly 1697 – unknown; possibly April 1782) Started life crossdressing at her dad’s behest to avoid his wife(who wasn’t Bonny’s mom), married a guy her dad didn’t like, moved to Nassau. There her husband became a spy for Rogers and Anne was like ‘Not cool bro’. She met Jack, they started fucking, and Anne discovered she was really good at stabbing things. Resumed dressing as a man and started trying to seduce Mary Read who was also dressed as a man. They did indeed fall victim to one of the classic queer blunders. Anyway, Anne’s like ‘it’s not gay I’m a chick!’ And Mary is like ‘really?? Then it’s a little gayer than you realize because I’m a chick too!’ They (probably) start banging. Rackham’s like ‘hang on! I’m the only dick in Anne’s life’ and Mary and Anne are like ‘you sure are’ and Mary shows him her boobs and then they have some sort of complicated and probably not totally consensual threeway. Then they get captured because, Jack is That Guy Who Was Too Drunk To Realize His Ship Was Under Attack and Mary and Anne had to defend the ship against like, a whole other crew. Jack is hung(not a dick joke), but both Anne and Mary plead stays of execution due to pregnancy. Anne disappears but possibly is maybe referred to later. No one knows. Neat!

Edit: According to sources from this post there is a genealogical record that refers to Anne and it records her death as 1782. Very neat!

Israel Hands (c.1701-death unknown) Israel Hands was a real pirate and Blackbeard’s first mate. Not much else is known about where he came from or his life, other than that Blackbeard shot him in the knee at one point while supposedly aiming for another man. ‘Oops my bad this pistol is from like, the 18th century or something.’ While recuperating in Bath he was arrested after Teach’s death but took a pardon in exchange for ratting out the colonial officials who had been bribed by Teach. It’s unknown what happened to him after that although That Book About Pyrites says he died a beggar in London.

Benjamin Hornigold (1680–1719) Horny4gold was one of the most well known and influential pirates of the Golden Age. Most other pirates sailed under him or with him at one point, and he was one of the founders of the Pirate Republic of Nassau. He never attacked british ships during his time as captain so that he could be like ‘but brooooo I was acting in Britain’s Interests!!! Bro!!!!!’ But his co-pirates didn’t like that and eventually voted to replace him with Sam Bellamy. He accepted the king's pardon in 1718 and became a pirate hunter instead. Bummer. He was reportedly killed in a shipwreck.

Okay listen Horingold in any universe is a fucking JOKE I have to share this passage with y’all:

“Hornigold is recorded as having attacked a sloop off the coast of Honduras, but as one of the passengers of the captured vessel recounted, "they did us no further injury than the taking most of our hats from us, having got drunk the night before, as they told us, and toss'd theirs overboard"” WHAT A JOKE.

Dr. Howell - (birth/death unknown) John Howell was a pirate surgeon forced into service by Hornigold sometime in early 1717. He sailed with various pirate crews until October before returning into the service of Governor Rogers.

Ned Low (1690–1724) N’EDWARD. Okay I’m serious again. Born in London, Lowe grew up a thief in a thief family before moving to Boston. His wife died in childbirth in 1719, so he decided ‘fuck it I’ll become a Pirate Captain’ and did just that. He was known for torturing the people on board the ships he captured before murdering them and burning the ship. Interestingly though, Lowe was known to have a huge amount of regret over abandoning his daughter when he turned pirate, and wouldn’t force married men into his service. He also reportedly would allow women to return to port safely. Because of his numerous captures and cruelties, he was one of the most well known pirates in his day. There are differing reports about Low’s death - some say his crew mutinied and marooned him and he was subsequently hung, others say his ship sunk in a storm, and some say he just straight up disappeared. ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

Jack Rackham - (December 26, 1682 – November 18, 1720) Really a pirate, really named himself after a housecat pattern. (No, okay, he didn’t, it was because of his threads. But wouldn’t the cat thing fit too?) Sailed with Vane, Anne Bonny, and Mary Read. Was mostly known for being That Guy Who Was Too Drunk To Realize His Ship Was Under Attack and being Anne and Mary’s captain. He was captured and sentenced to hang after the aforementioned Drunk Blunder in 1720.

Mary/Mark Read - (1685 – 28 April 1721) Much like Anne Bonny, Mary dressed as a boy for much of her youth so a parent could swindle someone out of money. From her teenage years on she continued dressing as a man to find work in the military and as a sailor. She did marry but her husband died young and so she decided to become a pirate. Like ya do. She accepted the king’s pardon in 1718, then mutinied on the privateer she was aboard, once again becoming a pirate. Because pirates are sexy. In 1720 she joined Jack Rackham’s crew and sailed with him and Bonny. Cue the whole ‘Hey you’re hot, also I’m a woman.’ ‘Oh, hey, same hat!’ with Anne. In November of 1720, Rackham’s ship was captured. Mary died of a fever in prison(likely due to her pregnancy) in 1721.

Edward Teach - (c. 1680 – 22 November 1718) He started piracy sailing under Hornigold, and built the fleet alongside him and Stede Bonnet until Hornigold retired. COOL fact about Blackbeard is he was a MASTER showman who liked to light slow burning fuses under his hat to scare his enemies, and he relied more heavily on creating an image his prizes feared than violence. He did a lot of cool shit including ransoming the entire town of Charles Town and annoying the shit out of Woodes Rogers before settling in Bath and later dying of like, a shit ton of wounds while battling Lieutenant Maynard. The battle on Roger’s ship is pretty much what happened minues the keelhauling. Afterwards he was beheaded, his head hung from the bow of Maynard’s ship, and his body was thrown in the bay in Bath, where it’s said his ghost still haunts! Funky!

Charles Vane - (1680 – 29 March 1721)  Really a pirate captain! Known for being Not A Nice Dude. Sailed with Henry Jennings, Edward England and Jackie Rackhammie. He led the pirates in resisting Rogers in Nassau, and yeah he really did light a ship on fire and 18th centuryeet it into Rogers’ line in order to escape. There’s a note that he returned to Nassau to get married but I couldn’t find any info on who he married so he’s gay now. That’s a rule I just made up. Anyway so at one point his ship got into a fight with another ship and Vane ordered a retreat and the crew was like ‘this is BOOshit’ and voted him out in favor of Jack Rackham. Ouch. Vane and some of the crew that supported him left aboard the Katherine(I believe) but then they got caught in a storm that said ‘fuck you specifically to Charles Vane,’ and he was marooned on an island. He survived! Just long enough for a British ship to stop at the island for him to attempt to board, get caught, and then hung. Deus ex piratica.

(Honorary mentions)

John Silver + Captain Flint (sort of but I’m not kidding!) Okay so of course there are a bunch of suspected origins of the characters of Captain Flint and Long John Silver, but the one I like the most is of two brothers - one of whom had a peg leg! - who captured an enormous Spanish treasure and buried it near Ocracoke island. Their names were John and Owen Lloyd. (And yes, John was the one-legged brother.) In 1750 a Spanish treasure fleet named the Flotas de Indias attempted to sail from Havana to Spain in late August, and three ships were wrecked during a hurricane. By a stroke of luck, the Lloyd brothers had been blown to the same inlet as the wrecked ships Guadalupe and Soledad , and managed to convince the Captain to hire them to transport the treasure to Norfolk. 

But of course because they thought the Spanish SUCKED they said ‘psyche’ and just fucked off with it while the Captain was fighting Bureaucratic red tape in North Carolina. Iconique. Owen Lloyd reportedly buried the treasure on Norman Island and  the pair became folk heroes in the area, particularly in St. Kitts.  (P.s., the Stevenson family ran a sugar production business on St. Kitts, and R.L. Stevenson’s great grandfather worked there as early as 1773 - just 25 years after the epic heist. COOL STORY BRO.)

Captain Throckmorton (Okay not really but I just love this guy’s name) Okay so this guy wasn’t really a pirate captain but he was a Steamboat captain in the 1830s and his name is just too ridiculous for someone to make up. Toot toot, motherfucker.

---------

Queen Nanny(Maroon Queen/Madi) (c. 1686 – c. 1755) The spiritual, cultural, and military leader of the Windward Maroons (who the Black Sails Maroons are based on.) She led them alongside her ‘brother’ Quao although the relationship between them isn’t known. Exact information about her origins are not known but best guess is that she was of royal lineage from present-day Ghana, born sometime in the 1680’s. She did have a husband named Adou(who may have been the same person as Quao? I’ve read conflicting stuff), but they had no children. Many of the guerilla warfare tactics we now think of as common practice were developed by Queen Nanny and the other Maroons in their fight against British incursions. (The trap that Flint lays, covering themselves with paint and leaves, and the pits the Maroons lay in the forest are tactics known to have been used by the Windward Maroons.)

Nanny was a fucking legend okay a LEGENDS ONLY legend. She was one of the most instrumental people in preserving African culture among freed slaves and Maroons, and in encouraging the resistance to slavery in the Bahamas and surrounding areas. She was one of three leaders of the First Maroon War (which the war in Black Sails is based on). She initially refused to sign the treaty offered to Cudjoe because she knew the British were losing and was like ‘Why????? Would I surrender???? In a war??? I’m winning?????’

Anyway Queen Nanny was a fucking badass please read every piece of literature you can find on her. (You should absolutely read her full bio because she was fucking badass.)

Cudjoe (not exactly, but Julius is very close) (c. 1690s – 1764) Likely a freeborn son of one of the original escaped slaves turned Maroons, Cudjoe is hailed as one of the greatest Maroon leaders(after Queen Nanny). Much like in Black Sails, these original Maroons were slaves who escaped or overran their masters, forming free communities in the Mountains of Jamaica. The treaty in Black Sails is based on the one Cudjoe negotiated with the British, wanting an ‘honorable peace’ with the enemy, rather than the continued war and better terms that Queen Nanny and Quao wanted. (sound familiarrrrrr?) I do want to note that by the end of his life he became completely disillusioned with the idea that the British should be reasoned with and basically started fights with every British superior he could.

The English, Spanish, and Scottish!

The Guthries So while there wasn’t ever a female head of the Guthrie clan in Nassau, the Guthries were a Scottish merchant clan who emigrated to Boston around 1652 due to religious and racial persecution. While most of the family stayed around Pennsylvania and Massachusetts, John Guthrie moved to Virginia and his brother James Guthrie moved to Bermuda sometime after 1683.

(James Guthrie of Suffolk County, Massachusetts was listed in the will of John Richardson, dated 7 May 1683, in which Richardson says, “I give and bequeath unto James Guthrie all I have in the world except twenty shillings to buy John Harris a ring and ten shillings to buy John Kyte a ring.” This was witnessed by John Raynsford and John Ramsey.) Fellas is it gay.

Anyway, between Virginia and Boston and James’ ties in the Bermuda islands, the family made a shit ton fencing pirated goods during the Golden Age of Piracy, particularly from the Pirate Republic of Nassau.

A John Guthrie(likely a son of James’) was also a Colonel who was part of the peace talks with Cudjoe and the Maroons. Neat!

James Oglethorpe (22 December 1696 – 30 June 1785) Okay listen Oglethorpe was COOL AS FUCK. He is the founder of the colony of Georgia and is imo who Thomas Hamilton is probably based on. Oglethorpe was a HUGE humanitarian and even before he decided to form an entire colony around people not owning slaves. He advocated for better conditions for sailors, and prison reform. In 1732 he read a letter by a slave in Maryland named Ayuba Suleiman Diallo and on the spot decided slavery was terrible, divested himself of his stock in the African Trading Company, and resolved to include a law banning slavery in Georgia to the colony’s charter. Radical, man.

Speaking of Georgia, and specifically his plantation near Savannah, Oglethorpe actively spoke with the native Yamacraw who populated the land to ask permission and trade for the land he sought to build Georgia on. His plantation was meant to help debtors in London, released without any support, from falling back into debt and offering them a way forward to landownership through indentured servitude. I highly recommend anyone interested in early attempts at an equality based colonial system read up on the original charter of Georgia. (Of course there were still problems, but Oglethorpe was one of the most prominent proponents of a non hierarchical society - including limits to the acreage any person could own based on how helpful that land was to the people who worked it, and communal resources.) Oglethorpe was also a lifelong friend with Tomochichi, the chief of the Yamacraw, and worked very closely with him on colonial-indigenous relations.

Vincente de Raja (birth/death unknown) He was the real Governor and military Captain of Cuba from 1716-1717. He was a devoted pirate hunter and encouraged Spanish privateering against the pirates. Due to an attempt by Spain to increase tobacco profits at the expense of the farmers, there was a large revolt which resulted in many of the Cuban officials, including Raja, being replaced. 

William Rhett (4 September 1666 – 12 January 1723) He was a merchant captain and plantation owner in Carolina who served in the colonial militia and hunted pirates. He captured Stede Bonnet and was probably just as much of an asshole as he is in the show.

Woodes Rogers - (c. 1679 – 15 July 1732) The Governor of Nassau who was largely responsible for ending piracy in the Bahamas. He really did offer a universal pardon, which a large number of the pirates took. Fun fact: before he was Governor, he rescued Alexander Selkirk, who is believed to be the guy Robinson Crusoe is based off of! Neat! He really did have a brother who really did die during his privateering exploits which also really did leave him ‘disfigured’. He got sued by his crew, went bankrupt, wrote a book, got famous for writing the book, and he really did have a wife named Sarah whom he divorced shortly after all this happened. He then became Governor of Nassau for the first time. This first term did end in him being imprisoned for debts incurred defending the island from Vane and Teach and the Spanish, but he was released, helped write that most famous A General History of the Robberies and Murders of the Most Notorious Pyrates, and became governor again in 1728. He died in 1732 of just plain exhaustion from dealing with the bureaucracy. Alexa play tiny violin.

[joezworld]

📂

What in the HECK happened with Scotsman, Dominion, and Dwight during the Great Gathering?!

(Also, since Dutchess of Hamilton has also been to the US during the 1939 NY World’s Fair, did she get involved?)

Warning - extremely long post below

So, first of all, Duchess of Hamilton never went back to the UK.

Duchess of Hamilton (6229) and Coronation (6220) had their nameplates swapped by the LMS when an engine was sent over to the US. 6229, in the guise of 6220, went to the US.

Streamlined locomotives were all the rage at the time, and railroads practically fell over themselves to get Coronation (as she was now known) onto press trains. The B&O railroad in particular was so impressed with her capabilities that they extended a formal offer of employment to her for service on their streamlined Royal Blue service. The LMS were surprised to get an offer to "purchase" their locomotive, but accepted nonetheless, as it meant a welcome infusion of cash in the dark days during the beginning of WWII.

Coronation fit right in with the Americans, having only been about a year old when she was sent to New York. Following the end of steam traction on the Royal Blue in the late 40s, (the B&O were early adopters of diesels.) she and her B&O coworkers found good employment on the New York Central, where she still runs to this day.

Since then, she's fully "gone native", marrying a J3 Hudson, (yes one of the streamlined ones) adopting both an American accent and three children, and being fully repainted to NYC silver by 1956. Flying Scotsman met her in Albany in 1970, and neither one of them recognized the other.

Actually, most UK expats don't recognize her, to the point where a common interaction is for her to be held up as an example of "look at her, she's integrated well into the US", only for the British engines to say "that's preposterous, she isn't English".

When it's pointed out that she's still obviously an LMS Coronation, the next response is usually screaming.

All that being said, she has no interest to come back to the United Kingdom, and wasn’t asked by the NRM anyways. 

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

Second of all, the Great Gathering was... an event.

So, there are (officially) 6 preserved Gresley A4s.

Mallard - static, National Railway Museum (UK). Also an asshole.

Bittern - running, private owner, UK based

Sir Nigel Gresley - running, owned by a trust, UK based

Union of South Africa - running, private owner, UK based

Dwight D. Eisenhower - static (officially), National Railway Museum (USA)

Dominion of Canada - static (officially), Exporail (Montréal)

This is the official list, and for the first 4 engines, it's the truth.

However, things are a bit hazier on the other side of the Atlantic...

-----

So the thing that needs to be made clear right up front that in a sentient vehicle world, museums aren't like the NRM, where locomotives sit static for years on end, although obviously the English have museums like that because of course they do.

Rail museums in the rest of the world are much more like Colonial Williamsburg - a living history center staffed by volunteers who act out a prototypical setting from [insert decade here].

British Rail, being British Rail, didn’t know that and didn’t care.

-

4496, Dwight D. Eisenhower, having been named after the General-turned-President, had been earmarked for preservation by BR, and was summarily shipped off to the US National Railway Museum in Green Bay, Wisconsin.

In an entirely unintentional move, this donation MONUMENTALLY snubbed the Smithsonian, who refused to have any dealings with BR for decades, even for archival purposes. This, combined with the fallout from Operation Smash Hit, and the fact that the Smithsonian is Petty AF, meant that there was virtually no official trans-Atlantic cooperation between British and US museums for decades.

Dwight hit the shores of the US in 1964 New York City and was greeted by a marching band, a ticker-tape parade, and Presidents Johnson and Eisenhower, who were on-hand to personally make the engine a US citizen.

Always keen to curry favor with the government, the Southern Pacific railroad had a job offer waiting for Dwight right alongside the Presidents and the parade, and when he accepted, he went off to Sunny Southern California - someplace so opposed to Britain the he fell in love with the place immediately and refused to leave!

The ladies may have also had something to do with it as well - while most engine classes fell into a typical 50-50 gender distribution, the SP GS-4 class was all female...

[Pictured above - one of 28 very good reasons to live in California if you're a single British steam engine.]

Dwight does not kiss and tell, but at his wedding in 1974, all 28 GS-4s showed up - and he was only marrying one of them!

Since the 70's, he's become a mainstay in California, having been repainted into Daylight Limited colors in 1969, and retiring from railroad duties in 1999. After that, he went into the movie business, and is currently the head of digital media development at Disney.

His wife Irene (SP 4437) is also an interesting figure as well - following in the wheelmarks of the great female locomotives before her, she had an eye for business and a Stanford education before she married her husband, and was an initial investor in multiple tech companies in Silicon Valley during the 70's and 80's, but stopped doing that after her investment in Apple proved very lucrative. In 1996, she was convinced by a few people in the Stanford Alumni association to invest in another tech startup, this one an "internet search engine" called Google.

So yeah, Dwight Eisenhower kept falling up and up and up all his life, and is now married to the richest woman in the world.

--

4489 Dominion of Canada was donated mostly by accident, having been forgotten in the back of Darlington sheds until 1966, when she was shipped off to the Canadian Railway Historical Society in Montreal.

As stated elsewhere, the Canadian Government considered any locomotive built in the UK to have UK citizenship, and therefore treated them as commonwealth citizens under existing Canadian law. (remember that Canada was still a colony at that time)

CN, the national rail carrier, was obligated to offer her a job under their charter, and she accepted, moving to Toronto to run intercity trains between Toronto, Montreal, and Ottawa.

Within two years she was displaced from those duties by the introduction of a new, shiny, jet turbine powered train, and was summarily demoted to local commuter runs in the Toronto suburbs.

Moving to suburbia did one thing more than anything else - expose her to the people who live there. They all had complaints, they all had problems, and they all had no idea on how to fix them.

Being a helpful sort, Dominion decided that she could help, and promptly ran for Toronto city council in 1974. She won, and has been a fixture in local Toronto politics ever since - she even got to be Chairwoman of Metro Toronto (the closest thing to being mayor because Toronto's governmental structure is weird) until 1998, when Toronto was merged with the surrounding area to create a massive new region.

Having then done everything there is to do in municipal Toronto government, Dominion went on to become the Chief Executive Officer of Metrolinx, the agency that controls almost all of the transit agencies in Ontario, because, as she puts it, "I'm still a commuter engine at heart".

She's now painted in the current GO Transit paint scheme, and still does commuter runs- which is really weird looking now that there are double deck commuter coaches in a push-pull configuration, with a Gresley A4 doing the pushing.

------

Now, I mentioned that those 6 were the only ones officially preserved - there were two unofficial preservations as well...

-

4486 Merlin was properly Shanghied - he was yanked off the docks in Southhampton by a cargo ship in August of 1965, and was spirited away to parts unknown.

Those unknown parts turned out to be South Korea. There, he was given citizenship by the US-aligned military dictatorship (Korean history is wild) and was employed by the State-run rail operator.

As the military government began a hardcore plan to increase their country's wealth and industrial output, rail lines were being built across the country, and Merlin was soon awarded a position on the fastest train in the network, the Seoul-Busan Saemaeul-ho.

Because of his experience in running high-speed express trains, Merlin not only became the public face of Korean high-speed rail, but also became an "honored elder" amongst the other Korean engines, a position he still holds to this day - as despite being over 70 years old, he still runs daily trains on the fast services, easily keeping time with the Korean schedules as well as training the new high speed trains, including the KTX sets. He's on his 24th boiler by now, and has more parts from Hyundai than Doncaster.

An additional fact - Merlin actually has had a linguistic effect on Korean railroading, as his strange amalgamation of an accent - a strong Yorkshire accent that tried to be Received Pronunciation for 30 years, mixed with almost 50 years of middle-to-upper-class Korean - has filtered down through the ranks of KoRail, because all of his students want to sound like him out of respect. Human British expats in Korea will occasionally hear a locomotive speaking in English, and the engine will sound like a Yorkshireman every time and the Brits cannot handle it.

---------

4495 Golden Fleece is the only A4 to preserve himself - he saw the writing on the wall in the early 60s, and hopped a car ferry to France at the end of 1962. From there, he bounced around Europe for a bit before making it to the United States in the late 70's.

Of the 8 surviving A4s, he's probably led the quietest life of all - he moved to Miami before it got nice, and basically got in on the ground floor of CSX when that merger happened in 1980. He's now the head of terminal operations for the Port of Miami, but he's generally kept a low profile - not even having a chance to meet Scotsman due to his time in Europe.

He's still in contact with Dwight and Dominion, and has no real bitterness over not being "famous" like they are - he likes the quiet, and still lives in a modest house in Boynton Beach with his long-term girlfriend.

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

Soooo... the Great Gathering.

It was supposed to be a meeting of the 6 surviving A4s - a two year event held at the NRM in honor of the 75th anniversary of Mallard's record-setting run.

"Record setting" is a past-tense term here. While there have been no official runs, every single one of the Pennsylvania Railroad's T1 and S1 locomotives claim to have gone faster than 126 without meaning to, and numerous other locomotives on unofficial attempts done late at night on flat stretches of land across the country have hit 130+.

British Expats have also done better than 126 - Coronation claims to have hit at least 140 on a midnight mail train in 1980, and in Korea, Merlin claims to have hit 128 on a test train, although that was judged by timing mile markers as his speedometer wasn't functioning properly.

Problems arose before any of the engines had even reached the NRM, as Mallard's already sizeable ego had swelled to massive proportions, and several engines in the great hall were planning a justifiable homicide.

Then came the time restraints - none of the foreign locomotives were willing to uproot their lives and jobs for two years just to sit motionless in a shed. A two year exhibition was eventually negotiated down to a 6 month gala, much to the irritation and confusion of the NRM, who could not understand that the engines were still in service.

Then came the extra engines - Dwight and Dominion thought that the NRM knew about Fleece, and were quite insulted on his behalf when he wasn't invited - they threatened to not attend unless arrangements were made for Fleece to attend as well.

An utterly baffled NRM agreed, but also tore their record archives apart, as they knew that Fleece had been scrapped. The fact that his picture was plastered all over CSX's Florida Division website was all the more confusing as a result.

-

Meanwhile in Busan, nobody knew that Merlin had escaped the scrappers' torch and therefore did not invite him. He was only informed after K-Pop star Psy texted him from London to ask if he knew about the event, which was being advertised on television.

Merlin, having missed his friends from the LNER, decided that he would just crash the party, used some of his many vacation days, and took off for England on a cargo ship.

-

By sheer coincidence, all four foreign A4s hit the dock in Southhampton on the same day, and were delighted to see each other - especially Merlin, considering that everyone else had thought he'd died.

Meanwhile at the NRM, delight was not the word one would use. Befuddled, confused, shocked even, but not delighted. Their plans had revolved around 6 A4s, most of which wouldn’t be running - only to now discover that there were 7, all but one of which were functioning! (Mallard, the star of the show, was the odd one out, and it drove him crazy) 

Then they got a phone call from their man at the docks saying that another one had showed up, looking like he’d driven out of a K-pop album cover, and they just gave up and started screaming. 

-

Screaming is also what happened when the cavalcade of foreigners showed up in York - first of all, the quartet of new engines sounded nothing like they had when they left England. 

Dwight had willfully unlearned his Upper Crust British accent by 1971, and had fallen deep into a California accent (quite similar to what Scotsman sounds like - coincidence? No.)

Dominion and Fleece hadn’t tried to unlearn their accents, but 40+ years of living in North America can really dilute the Britishness. It doesn’t help that Dominion has developed most Canadian vocal tics eh?

As stated above, Merlin has a weird fuckin accent, and now he speaks English with a strong Yorkshire accent, but will occasionally and without warning drop into a Korean/Yorkshire hybrid accent.

The screaming also happened because the NRM had wanted to repaint the duo trio! quartet?! into LNER garter blue, and were promptly informed that “we’re painted like this for work! Don’t touch it!” (the sole exception was Dwight, who hadn’t pulled a real train in 14 years, but he liked his Daylight Limited paint), so instead of the new arrivals showing up in LNER colours, they showed up looking like THIS:

Having their long-lost siblings show up looking and sounding like THAT had quite an affect on the A4s and the other NRM engines: 

Bittern could not believe her eyes - to the point where she actually began making noise about seeing an optometrist

Union of South Africa almost backed through a wall

Sir Nigel Gresley was speechless for two days

Mallard was so angry that he actually chipped a tooth during one of his rants about “the impropriety of it all!!”

Evening Star laughed so hard that he managed to derail himself without moving

City of Truro almost cracked a piston from shock

Alycidon spent the entire gala coming up with more and more laser focused jabs at Mallard - who was so easy to fluster that the Deltic needn’t have bothered 

Oliver Cromwell and Green Arrow made fast friends with the new arrivals, and spent the entire time learning ‘Americanisms’ to annoy the other engines with.

But what about Flying Scotsman? Where was he in all of this? He was generally considered to be the “leader” of the NRM fleet (much to Mallard’s annoyance), and was usually who the other engines turned to when things started getting out of control. 

Did Scotsman calm things down? Like hell he did. The inmates were running the asylum from the moment that Scotsman saw the other A4s - more importantly saw Dwight - and immediately greeted them in flawless Californian. 

This actually set off the building’s security alarm, as Flying Scotsman saying “DUDES! Wassup?!” caused such an uproar that the noise broke several exterior windows. 

----

And all of this was in the first few days - there were six months left to go. 

--

There was one railtour attempt. It was supposed to feature Bittern and Sir Nigel running in tandem, but instead featured Dwight and Merlin, mainly because Bittern wanted to see what would happen. 

They exceeded the max speed limit for steam traction within 15 minutes, sparked a thorough investigation by the RAIB, and got all future steam powered railtours for the Gathering cancelled immediately. 

On the plus side, the two engines did prove that it was still possible for a steam train to hit 100 safely. 

--

One thing that baffled the other engines was the inordinately large number of people who turned up just to see Dominion, and the one person who kept turning up to see Fleece - it took a lot of explaining for them to understand that Dominion had been married three times, and had children (adopted) and grandchildren from all three marriages coming to see her. A similar amount of explaining was required to explain that Fleece’s girlfriend/partner wanted to see him too. 

The normally chatty Dwight and Scotsman would suddenly clam up whenever Dominion and Fleece teasingly tried to ask about their love lives, something which wasn’t unnoticed by the other engines, but got similarly nowhere. 

The answer to why they both shut the hell up was explained when a lot of shouting broke out in the yard of the NRM one day about a month into the exhibition:

Irene Eisenhower, not content to sit in California and count her billions, quickly grew bored without her husband, and decided to go to England and be with him. The fact that she definitely did not fit the UK loading gauge was never even a consideration, and so she just showed up in York on the back of a lorry, having informed no-one of her arrival, and content to just pay off the requisite people if a fuss occurred. 

A fuss did occur, and it was only ended when Scotsman managed to convince the museum’s curator (who at this point in his life was regretting ever thinking of this damned gathering) that Irene was a ‘temporary donation’ to the museum. 

[Scotsman, who definitely hid his Cali accent from museum staff the entire time, has one of the best poker faces in the world]

Dwight was overjoyed, and so was Scotsman, for initially unclear reasons. Then Irene managed to grab both her husband and Scotsman, dragged them behind a shed, and [THIS IS A PG13 HEADCANON] the both of [PG13]. Turns out that while Scotsman may have slept his way across the US a few times, he was actually ready to settle down with Dwight and Irene - they were a throuple way back in the 70s, and those passions haven’t faded. When Scotsman reluctantly left the US in 74, a lot of the reluctance was because of those two. 

This bombshell of a revelation went over interestingly at the NRM. Some engines (Green Arrow) were happy for them, some were incensed (Mallard - although it was for anti-American reasons, not homophobic ones), and some were intensely curious about what was going on in the outside world (Bittern). 

-

The ‘foreigners’ (as Mallard had taken to calling them), were deeply displeased at how their fellow engines were being treated - while a lot of them were ‘in steam’, some were not and might never be again, something they found abhorrent. Unable to do anything at that time, as the NRM was not a for-profit entity and therefore did not have anyone to bribe, (Irene’s solution to things is to throw money at the situation) the engines started talking about how life was different in the outside world - namely that engines were still working hard, even when they were over a century old and running on steam power. 

This was of great interest to engines like Evening Star and (6220) Duchess of Hamilton, neither of whom were likely to be steamed again, and Bittern, who was growing more and more curious with each passing day. Dissent began to slowly build against the NRM curators, and the culture of the United Kingdom in general.

-

One thing the foreigners did try do something about was Ellerman Lines. The poor bastard had been sectioned to show his inner workings, much to the jaw-dropped horror of the foreign A4s, who made such a stink about it that he was moved outside the museum by NRM staff, who must have thought that the engines lacked object permanence or something, because that didn’t make it better!

-

Irene Eisenhower, who was beginning to get really sick of the nonsense that the NRM called preservation, (Scotsman was not in running condition, and had been hastily reassembled mid-overhaul in order to be cosmetically ready for the event, and let’s not forget poor Ellerman Lines) elected to bring the event to a close on her own after only three months. She did this by eventually putting her immense wealth to good use, and called for a haulage service to rescue the engines from the NRM without the knowledge of the museum staff. Aside from the A4s, she also took Ellerman Lines, Scotsman, and Bittern (who had asked to go) with her, and only bothered to inform Ellerman and Bittern - she was not about risk Scotsman having another “think of England” moment and staying. 

The haulage firm was efficient and the cargo ship was waiting, so the engines were in international waters before the NRM opened the next morning. 

Much swearing occurred in England that day, and the NRM’s image has yet to fully recover from the PR story that they had sold Flying Scotsman (and Ellerman Lines) to a reclusive American billionaire. 

Privately though, the NRM does not care, as that story is a lot better than “Someone stole our engines and we’re not allowed to get them back because as it turns out we’re slaveowners, so no international court will help us.”

Also, despite their multimillion dollar “donation" from the I. Eisenhower Opportunity Fund, they still haven’t been able to fully pacify their engines, all of whom have somehow gotten the idea that they should be running in main line service like they live on Sodor or something...

--------

Dwight, Scotsman, and Irene all live happily together in the sprawling Eisenhower estate in Malibu. Irene is currently lobbying the California state government to legalize polygamy, with moderate success. 

-

Ellerman Lines, after a lot of therapy and a full rebuild, is now working on a short line in Wyoming. He likes the scenery.

-

Bittern followed Dwight, Irene, and Scotsman to Los Angeles, and used her ‘connections’ (Dwight) to get a supporting role in Avengers: Age of Ultron. Since then, she’s gotten several roles based on her own merits, including an Emmy nomination for Best Guest Appearance in a Comedy.

-

Merlin spent a few months in LA before he went back to Korea. He is very thankful that he was able to reconnect with his brothers and sisters, and that his homeland has good internet, as he video calls his family across the Pacific almost every day.

-

Golden Fleece still lives a quiet life in Florida, but finally decided to tie the knot, and married his girlfriend in 2017. The ceremony was supposed to be quiet, but Irene Eisenhower has no idea what that word means. 

-

Dominion of Canada continues to baffle non-local trainspotters when she runs commuter trains into Toronto. She is now a great-grandmother. 

-

7 years later, and the term “Great Gathering” is still a forbidden phrase in the back rooms of the NRM.

[natsugia]

Sneak Previews

I know, I know. I said that the next chapters to The Weight We Carry Is Love (TWWCIL) and Of Soul And Spirit (OSAS) would be up like two months ago, but I'm sadly, I'm still working on them. Writing has been a little bit slow lately, but we're getting there. Hoping to post the next chapters really soon.

For now though, I thought I'd at least give a sneak preview for each chapter, since you guys have been so amazingly sweet and patient, absolute saint-like. Hope this can tide you over until I'm finally able to post.

TWWCIL Chapter 4 Excerpt

“Hey you!” They both turned in response to the shout to find a short Korean girl wearing pigtails and glasses, lips downturned in a frown, rapidly marching up to them.

Jess eyed the girl appreciatively at first -- finally someone that breaks the mold -- until seeing the “Jesus is my homeboy” t-shirt. He quietly groaned. One of them. Wonderful. Just what he needed.

Luke let out a similar groan and opened his mouth to speak, but the girl just plowed right through to Jess, a finger pointed at his chest.

“Listen here you opportunistic, devious, sex-addicted fiend!” yelled the girl as she jabbed him repeatedly in the chest.

Jess’ eyebrows rose sharply. He’d been called a lot of things in his life, even some of these words in a different context over the years, but considering he’d barely been in this town for a day, he had to say he was surprised by the accusation. He hadn’t even had time to do anything devious or fiendish, and where the hell did sex-addicted come from? He made out with Rory once - ONCE - less than twelve hours ago. Surely that’s not enough to ascribe him that label.

He glanced back down at her shirt again and reconsidered.

“Excuse me?” he finally asked her, a bit of annoyance bleeding through his tone. He glanced at Luke, but his uncle only shook his head and sighed in exasperation. Gee, thanks for the help, Uncle Luke.

The girl growled as he leaned out of reach from her finger before squaring her shoulders and placing her hands on her hips. “Where the hell do you get off putting your hands all over Rory like that?” she questioned. She was shorter than him by a few inches, but she easily stood her ground, eyes boring into his with indignation and suspicion.

He frowned. So this was about Rory? Word sure travelled fast. Also, what was wrong with kissing the girl you’ve liked for months? First Lorelai. Then that total circus act at the diner. And now this girl. He did not understand this town. “What?” he asked again in a sharper tone.

The girl again plowed through his confusion. “First off, she already has a boyfriend--”

He might have smiled at that. Sure, he may have dreamt about him and Rory together for months, but he never really thought it would happen. It was a pipe dream. And then he moved in with his uncle who just so happened to live in the same town as her. Which meant he got to live in the same town as her. If he actually did drugs, he would check the quality of his stash right about now.

“--One she’s absolutely crazy about--”

He sure hoped so. Otherwise moving out here would just be another cruel twist of fate in the life of Jess Mariano.

“And even though his dislike for Sting is questionable, he’s perfect for her--”

“Right,” he said slowly as pieces clicked in his mind. Only two people knew how much he hated the British rockstar. He took another assessment of the girl in front of him. Korean, fiery, protective of Rory, and now that he was paying attention, her voice was familiar. This girl could only be one person. His lips widened into a smirk. This would be entertaining.

“--And while he lives in New York, and you look like Stallone’s younger hotter brother--”

“Thank you.”

“--that doesn’t give you the right to put any of your greasy paws all over my best friend. She’s not like that. She’s amazing and brilliant and she’s going to Harvard--”

His smirk turned warmer. “I know.”

“--So don’t even think about messing that up for her since you’re obviously headed to working 80 hours a week in a sweaty garage--”

He nodded once. “Got it.”

“--And I don’t care if you’re Luke’s nephew or where you come from, but if you touch her again, you’re gonna find yourself fending off broken bones from a giant cricket bat! My mother taught me how to swing one.” She shook a fist at him.

He bit the inside of his lip to keep from laughing. “Noted. You done?”

She squinted at him. “For now. But I’m watching you. That Metallica shirt barely gets you any points.”

“Ah, but it does get me some points?”

“NO!” she yelled in his face. He grinned.

“It’s just they’re a great band,” she amended with a haughty air before she turned her head and muttered, “And the shirt might match your eyes.”

“Huh.” He turned to Luke. “Imagine that.”

Luke rolled his eyes. “Ignoring that.”

"But," Lane interjected with a stern look, "any very miniscule points you may have earned were wiped out by your inability to keep your hands to yourself. And not just wiped out, but negatively netted. You're in the red with me."

"Uh huh. And if Rory asked for the hands?"

Her finger was back in his face. "You!!!" she yelled, outraged.

Luke stepped in between with his palms up. "Okay. Knock it off." He pointed to Lane, who was still glaring at Jess. “If you couldn’t guess, that’s Rory’s best friend, Lane. Lane, this is my nephew Jess.”

Jess watched in amusement as Lane's eyes grew wide as saucers and her jaw dropped, the anger completely disappearing from her face. “Jess?!” she finally squeaked. “As in Rory’s Jess?”

“In the flesh.”

“You’re Luke’s nephew?”

Luke narrowed his eyes at Lane. “You knew about them?”

Lane pointed to herself. “Best friend.”

Luke gave her a pointed look. “Right.”

Jess shrugged. “World’s too small.”

She absently nodded. “No kidding. This is what you look like?” she asked as she scanned him head to toe, surprise still etched in the corners of her mouth.

“Yes?” he drawled out hesitantly. He quickly glanced down at his shirt, jeans, and Vans. Nothing out of the ordinary here.

She blinked rapidly, as if to clear her vision before shaking her head. “So trippy. This has got to be like fate or something.”

He tilted his head in agreement. “The universe works in mysterious ways.”

Slowly a smile worked onto her face as Lane realized just exactly who her best friend was kissing last night. “That she does.”

OSAS Chapter 8 Excerpt

“You!!!” Her shout danced off tables and floors, and how she wished a hole would swallow her now that everyone in the room was staring at her.

Including the guy from the bodega earlier, the book hanging loose in his hand.

Including the Boss, whose eyes felt cold and empty as they locked on hers.

“There a problem?” Bennelli asked in a measured tone.

Her mouth dried up under his gaze. “How are -- this is -- he didn’t--” she stumbled over her words, tongue rough against the roof of her mouth as she stood too in shock over her gaffe, over this mysterious person’s presence at the meeting to truly speak.

Johnny stood slightly behind Bennelli, a wry half-grin on his face. She did not want to know what that meant. Interrupting the Boss as he was speaking couldn’t possibly lead to something good.

She swallowed hastily, the lump barely making its way past her constricted throat.

Bennelli gave her another once over before switching his gaze to the young Italian with the book.

“Jess, you know her?”

Jess. His name was Jess. She had no clue why her brain filed away the information. Probably because of the book.

Definitely because of the book.

Jess shrugged and gestured to her with the novel in his hand. “We bumped into each other while shopping today. She threatened me with a pair of packaged scissors.”

Rory internally groaned as a few chuckles scattered throughout the room. She needed all the cool points she could muster at this point, and that confession was not helping.

“Should have taken them out of the plastic,” she heard Nick mutter as he tightened his grip around the blonde’s neck. “Would have done more damage.”

Angelo next to him just shook his head with a sigh. “Wasted opportunity.”

There was a hint of jibe at Angelo’s words, a mock at the relayed event, but she couldn’t tell if it was directed at her. She turned back to Jess with a sharpened gaze, and that smirk on his face said it all. They were making fun of her. She could see the smirks matching with a young Tristan’s at Chilton, matching the tone of voice as he steadfastly called her Mary. She knew that smirk, and she hated it. So, pushing the embarrassment aside, she grabbed hold of her old friends, wit and spite, and said, “Funny you call it shopping when you didn’t even pay for the super glue.”

Shit. Maybe that was the wrong thing to say because now the smile seemed genuine. Rory was definitely not looking.

“That is funny,” she heard him say, traces of the Burroughs lingering after the words trailed off, “since I don’t recall you paying for your gum either.”

Rory felt her jaw drop for a second time. “How did you--”

He lifted his eyebrow as he interjected, leaning toward her slightly, “That was a nice touch with the shelves though.”

Oh god, he thought it was intentional. “That wasn’t--” She bit back her reply quick when she saw the Boss’s eyes slide to hers.

“Shelves?” he asked, a hint of curiosity in his tone.

Shit. She definitely couldn’t say that it was an accident now.

Jess had no problem answering though. “She might have knocked over a few as a distraction.”

“I--” she started again, but the words were stuck in her throat. There was definite interest in Bennelli’s eyes now.

She couldn’t stop the shiver at the back of her neck as he replied, “Is that so?”

[hamilsquadwritings]

The Worst Kind of Event (Washington x platonic fem!soldier reader)

The Worst Kind Of Event

(Washington x platonic fem!soldier reader)

Request:- @t0xcat

“” hey! could i possibly get a washington x platonic fem solider reader where he basically sees her as his daughter and has been fighting by his side for a long time and then she’s sent away to south carolina for the battle of yorktown and he receives news from one of the soldiers that she died and washington and the rest of the hamilsquad has a funeral for her n stuff,, sry if it’s confusing!! have fun writing!! 💖💖 “”

~ Warnings: angst, a couple swears, soldiers and war, death, lots of tears ~

{{I'm so sorry if it sucks I've never done angst before, hope it's okay!!☺️💗}}

Words: 3.1 k (so I may have got a little bit carried away?!) 

You had worked with George for 3 years now. You'd come along way from the scrappy blood thirsty recruit he's met all that time ago. You'd joined the revolution after your parents had been killed in an attack from the British soldiers. You'd had enough of standing by and letting others fight for you. 

When you first approached him he didn't take you seriously, something he would quickly learn to regret, you attacked his name and ended up in a duel on your second day on camp. It didn't go anywhere because George had stepped in, he had sent you to his tent while he dealt with your opponent, a one Alexander Hamilton. He wouldn't hear slander against his mentors name, no matter who it came from.

Three years later Alex was the closest thing you had to a brother, you loved him dearly. He was always by your side, you'd saved eachother lives many times over. Be it from enemy fire or from eating food John Laurens had prepared, he said he could cook but Washington had warned you never to accept food off him unless you wanted to spend a few days with the nurses throwing your guts up. He was also one of your best friends, the three of you were practically inseparable, you'd fight, eat and sleep together. The three of you were Washington's aids so you'd all room together. You didn't mind, you'd much rather have them with you and know where they were rather than worry about their whereabouts; as you often did when you couldn't find them about camp. 

You'd also made friends with a tailor who'd frequent the campsite, you recognised him as the boy who worked with the tailor your father had gone to. When he'd first seen you he did a double take. Where was the sweet young girl he'd often played with when their fathers had been busy. You quickly grew inseparable, he'd seen first hand what this war had done to you. He adopted an older brother role, watching out for you on the campsite. 

There had been a group of soldiers who'd decided you'd be an easy target and grabbed you on your second week, they had planned to rough you up a bit and steal your rations, making its a regular occurrence. Unfortunately for them Lafayette had been watching and followed you out. He'd had trouble with those particular men before and had a horrible gut feeling that they were going to do something bad. They didn't get the chance because he'd followed, grabbing the leader and shoved him against the wall, his friends looked on mouths agape as Lafayette was explicitly clear about what he would do to them if they ever bothered you again. You'd been thankful for him ever since. The five of you grew to be a close knit group of friends.

"Hey (Y/N)!" Alex grins as you sit down next to him with your tray "they're giving out assignments at 7, they said some of us will be going as far as South Carolina.." he says nervously, John was from South Carolina which meant it was likely he'd get selected, he knew the terrain which would prove useful to the troops. The last they'd heard south Carolina had been secured but a LOT of blood had been shed to get there. It was likely that just as much would be to keep it that way. 

"He better make it back' you say, trying to sound strong, your voice betraying you with a slight wobble. 

"Who better what?' John asks and he slides info the seat across from you 

"Nothing" Alex says quickly, too quickly. John just gives him a strange look before he starts to eat his own dinner. Hes barely half way when Washington comes up to the table 

"Laurens, Y/L/N, with me," he says gruffly. You have just enough time to shoot a look to Alex, who looks worried, before you're following George to his office. You and John half speed walking, half running to keep up with the general. He wasn't happy, not one bit, you could feel it in the air. "sit down, both of you" he says shutting the door to his office. You share a worried look with John and take a seat.

"Sir?" John asks after a few seconds of silence, there was something wrong, George was stalling.

"You're both shipping out to South Carolina tomorrow" he says finally "first thing in the morning, I'm not sure how long for but you'll both be back before you know it" he says confidently, well, like he was trying to be. If only he could have guaranteed that.. 

You and John left the next morning, Alex and George had both gotten up hours earlier than they should've to see you off. Hercules and Lafayette had said their good byes the might before, the five of you shared dinner together. You'd be lying if you'd said there wasn't a tearful goodbye. Alex took it really hard. As soon as he'd heard south Carolina he knew John would be going. You, however, were a complete shock and it shook him to his very core. You both were excellent soldiers, he knew you could handle yourselves but he couldn't help but worry. 

George hugged you both and saluted which you gladly returned, he wasn't big on goodbyes so he said "until we see eachother again" and smiled, you could feel the love through those few words and you wiped away tears and hug him again, Alex and John quickly joining, he was the closest all three of you had to a father which made you your own little family.

"We got this' John says squeezing your shoulder as you join the other troops in the carriage. 

As it turns out, you in fact, did not have this, far from it. Upon arrival it seemed as all was okay, you'd been thinking the worse but once you got there it didn't seem so bad. You had a part of your family with you and that was all you needed. The conditions were rougher than you were used to but it wasn't so bad, you shared a tent with John so you attest had someone familiar to talk to. 

One the second day you were sent out into the field, there was enemy fire and you were sent as back up. John was by your side laying against a rock when it happened. A loud crack and a searing pain erupted across your side. 

You'd been shot.

The medics did everything they could, they allowed John to travel back to base with you but there was nothing more to be done. He sat by your side while you lay in the bed. He did his best to cheer you up, even with tears in his eyes he told you it was going to be okay and you'd be fine. You knew better. 

"John" you said quietly and he stopped mid sentence, he could see the light behind your eyes was dimming

"Yes?' he whispers back, knowing his voice would betray him if he raised it any higher 

"I want you to write this down, f-for when you go back" you choke out as he scrambled to get a pad and pencil. He scribed down your final words, a letter for each of your family. You used the last of your energy to sign each one.

Alex had been looking forward to your return for weeks. He'd received a letter from you and John the first week, you'd sent it the first day. He'd received letters from John since but he didn't think much of it, field work was tiring and he knew you put 100% into your work and probably fell into bed as soon as you'd had the chance. John's letters were short, but that was to be expected, hed never been half the writer you or alex were. 

"You're going to wear out the deck" Lafayette chuckles from beside him

"I can't wait to see them" Alex says happily as Hercules grins up at his friend. He's sat on the desk with a notebook as he sketches some new designs for a dress, he'd already made you one since you left, he was so excited to see you and show you the three others he'd designed. 

Alex stood on his tippy toes as the ship came into view. He could see soldiers peering over the edge of the ship, there were less than those who'd left three weeks earlier but that was to be expected. He couldn't see you or John. He looks to Washington who'd joined them as the ship docked. Soldiers flooded off the ship, happy to be home on dry land after the travel at sea. 

They waited patiently as soldier after soldier disembarked, as the crowd on the ship dwindled they began to grow worried. Finally John emerged, he looked ill.. no not ill, heartbroken, he looked heartbroken. Hercules felt his stomach drop as they ran to the deck, the crowd of soldiers clearing as Washington marched up to the ship

"John?" He asks as Lafayette helps the grief stricken man off the boat and back onto dry land. "What's happened?" He asks carefully, not daring to utter your name. John just shakes his head as tears filled his eyes for what felt like the 100th time since it happened. Alex felt his knees give out as he collapsed, laf catches him just in time, practically having to hold him up. No.. no this couldn't be happening. Everyone had told him you'd both be coming back, where were you?! 

George's face had hardened a thousand years, his eyes glossy with unshed tears. He turned away as they threatened to spill over. He gently lay a hand on John's shoulder and squeezed it, it was all he could do before he marched away to his office. This wasn't supposed to happen, you and John were supposed to come home okay, he'd warned the general to keep an eye on the both of you, to keep you safe. He needed you to be safe. You were the closest thing he'd ever come to having a daughter. You'd saved his life more times than he could remember, you'd also kept Alexander out of trouble more than enough times which he was, of course, grateful for. When he'd heard your story about your parents he'd been moved, most people would've crumpled at that hardship but you only took it in your stride to power yourself. That's what he loved about you, that you took everything like gave you and used it to your advantage. You were also incredibly kind and would do anything for your family. 

He thought back to his last birthday, he hadn't wanted anyone to know it was his birthday but you'd decorated his room with balloons and a handpainted banner and had your whole little family there to celebrate, you'd even found a cake for him to make a wish on. He'd promised you he'd return the favour for your next birthday- god your birthday was in less than a week.. he had so many plans but now none of them could happen.. you couldnt be gone, you just couldn't.. he knew better but it was easier to kid himself at least for a few short moments.

The boys were a mess, they'd help John off the boat and to the room he'd shared with you and Alex. They were silent on the trip, Alex and John settled on his mattress while Hercules and Lafayette took Alex's. Your bed was left empty, no one could bear to look at it, they all snuck glances and felt an intense pang of pain at the sight of your made bed, complete empty.

"H-how?" Hercules asks quietly, he didn't want to know the answer but he had too

"Shot" John replies, equally as quiet, he hadn't spoken more than a few words to anyone since it had happened "second day.." 

"You- you didn't mention it in your letters" Alex mentions as John turns to look at him "it wasn't something you could mention in your letters" he corrects quickly 

"Three weeks ago?" Laf asks quietly as tears fill his eyes. John not only had to go through it alone but he had to keep it to himself for three weeks? My god "Mon ami' he sighs softly as he goes over to hug his friend, Hercules following quickly. They stayed there, all crammed into John's bed for what seemed like hours, just existing, they didn't say much except to comfort eachother, there was nothing else they could do. 

Your funeral was held 3 days later, on your birthday of all days. Instead of George distracting you for most of the day while the others ran around preparing your surprise party they were preparing another event, the worst kind of event. George had sent Alex to the meadow with John to pick wild flowers to decorate your coffin with. He didn't want either boys around when you body arrived, he knew it would be too much for alex and John had already gone through so much. Hercules had travelled into town to purchase some food and drink for them, your favourites of course. Lafayette stayed with George, they'd both needed to be on duty so they worked through out the day, dreading as the evening drew closer. 

There was a memorial scheduled to start at 8 but Washington had arranged to have a small private ceremony just before so at 7 he gathered the boys up and they went to say their goodbyes. Alex and John had done a beautiful job, there was flowers tucked into every crevice possible, a beautiful array of flowers taped to the top, George smiled, they'd practically emptied half the meadow for you.

"I'm going to keep this short" George starts after clearing his throat 

"Like Alex" Alexander says with a teary smile, as you'd always responded when George said that 

"Of course" George says as the other boys smile "(Y/N) was an incredible person, I'd always thought of her as a daughter and I'm going to miss her, a lot" he sighs softly as he places a hand on the coffin "I wish I'd told her in person.." he trails off gesturing for someone else to speak.  

"I've known (y/n) since before I even started tailoring, we'd play together while her father was fitted for his suits. Her dad was a kind man who always brought extras of whatever lunch her mum had packed, for her to share with me. it's easy to see where she got her kindness from, and she was so kind, she didn't care what kind of person someone was, if she could help them she was going too" hercules smiles softly "she'd helped me on too many occasions to count, whether it be needing a model for a dress or shooting someone who'd come up behind me.. see told you she'd help in anyway" he chuckled as his eyes laid sight on the coffin "I'm going to miss your pretty face (y/n).. although I'm sure I'll see you in my dreams soon enough" he smiles 

Laf was next, he approached the coffin and placed a hand on it tentatively, as I'd he was scared it would open suddenly "I am thankful everyday that I was brave the day we met ma Cherie.." he says quietly "since that day I've been thankful for you, your laugh your energy and your love. You've been an absolute light in our lives" he says softly as the other smile and nod "j'adore tu' he whispers quietly as he steps back so that Alex could step up 

"W-we fought the first day we met.. Nearly ended up shooting eachother, I'm so glad we didn't because the last three years have been the best, a-all you guys have made me so happy, I truly feel like there's somewhere I belong" alex says wiping away tears furiously, he WOULDNT cry, not again "(Y/N) came to share the room John and I had and from the very first night I could tell we'd be the best of friends, she didn't mind John and I staying up talking for hours, she was the one who started card games that ended in a pillow fight" he giggles as Washington sighs 

"You know how much trouble I got into because you woke up the general across the hall?" He chuckles 

"Yeah enough that we were on washing up duty for a week" John laughs "still worth it though" 

"Definitely" Alex smiles softly as he looks between the coffin and his friends "love you (y/n)" he whispers quietly as he steps back

John sighs softly "Is it wrong that I wish I'd been here?" He asks no one in particular "don't get me wrong, I'm glad I was there for her but I see it every time I close my eyes.." 

"Were here for you son" George says gently as he pats John's shoulder reassuringly 

"Like everyone's already said, she's incredible and it fucking sucks she's gone" John continues, he wasn't the best at public speaking, especially when he was upset "at first I was happy I wasn't going alone but now I wish it was me instead.." he says as the tears start to fall "it's so fucking unfair! Why do-"

"Hey" Alex says gently and hugs him tightly, the other three joining quickly, there was nothing they could do about you but they could be there for John and eachother and they'd get through it, they had to, for you. John pulls away after a few seconds and pulls something out of his coat 

"B-before she.. I wrote these letters for h-her, there's one for each of us, she signed then end of them" he explains and he hands out the letters for the others to read. They stood in silence as they read their letters. John had already heard them and knew his own inside out, he'd read it many times but that didn't stop the sting of tears in his eyes. He looked at the others, Alex and laf had both sat down to read theirs, knowing they wouldn't be able to stand. Hercules stood frozen as he got to the end of his letter, his fingers hovered over where your name was signed, he sighs softly, a small smile spread across his face as he read the stupid joke you'd made John add as a ps.

Washington read his letter slowly, he was already trying to keep in together, he couldn't break down in front of them. The others had never seem him cry before. Unfortunately his eyes had other plans, the tears freely flowing from his eyes as he finished. 

He was going to miss you terribly.

[stylesnews]

If your quarantine has been anything like mine, Harry Styles content has been the only thing getting you through. At the beginning of the national lockdown, he created a line of shirts and donated the proceeds to coronavirus charities. And last month, he showed solidarity with the Black Lives Matter protests by marching in L.A. and posting about the cause on Instagram. Even more recently, he recorded a sleep story for the Calm app because his fans had been begging for one for so long. Basically, he's been doing what he can during this crazy time, and it's a delight to see.

But back on May 18 (approximately two centuries ago ago), when the sexy and fruit-filled “Watermelon Sugar” music video dropped, Twitter rightfully lost its collective mind. Watching the video was an ~experience~, and it made me wonder what it was like being in it. You know, feeding Harry watermelon, running in the ocean with him, and cracking jokes as the sun set. The video dropped during a time when people were supposed to be avoiding any personal contact. Watching Harry and all the other people in the video rolling around with each other felt almost voyeuristic, and it made me miss living in a time even just a few months ago when touching other people wasn't so scary.

I hadn't stopped thinking about the video in the weeks since, so I decided to do some digging. For your reading pleasure, I talked to five models about the juicy (heh, get it?) details of being in the video.

Most of us scroll through the ’gram to see pics of Harry, but these ladies’ feeds landed them the gig. After putting out a call, the casting director scouted every model on Insta, sending them DMs if they thought they’d be a good fit. Many of them didn't even know the shoot was with Harry at first, only finding out it was him the literal night beforehand.

"I was immediately down to do it when I found out was him," model Elizabeth Tyson says.

Unlike us normal people, these girls balance their day jobs with, you know, spending time with Harry Styles. “I actually didn't even ask my boss if I was going to get [the day] off [for the shoot],” laughs model Mercy Odima, who is also a nanny. “I just replied, and I was like, ‘Yeah. I will be there.’”

That was back in January, and the girls had to keep their mouths shut for literal months until the video premiered on May 18. Can you imagine not being able to tell a single soul about the way Harry suggestively eats a watermelon slice?

By the end of the day, after countless shots where models were not-so-subtly licking watermelon slices and shoving their face (and Harry's) with the very-dense fruit, these ladies could 100 percent live without the watermelon sugar high. “We were like, ‘I can never eat a watermelon ever again!’—we were all sticky, it was dripping,” says Elizabeth. “They must have gone through a hundred watermelons for that shoot.”

And not all of it was so sweet: “I said something like, ‘Did you know that watermelon is actually kind of bad for you if you eat a lot of it? It’s bad for your digestive system,’” Maris says she told Harry. “He was like, ‘Oh, really? I’ve never heard that before.’”

Looking sexy while you feel like Bloat City is a challenge, to be sure. “The last part was us running up and down the beach at sunset,” Maris says. “I had just eaten probably a whole watermelon at that point. I was just praying it didn't come across—I just felt so uncomfortable.”

If it looks like the video is just a massive group hang with friends rolling around on the sand and making orgasmic faces into the camera, that’s because it basically was. “Everything was genuine,” Ephrata says. “They weren't like ‘now laugh’ or ‘now go crazy.' A lot of our scenes are actually us talking.”

Other scenes, though, had more direction. “There was a moment where the directors were like, ‘Okay, we want it to be kind of like an LSD trip,’” Maris laughs. We'll let you try to figure out which scene that is, because, TBH, it could have been any of them.

Overall, all the models agreed it was an incredibly chill experience. “It was probably one of the most natural shoots I've ever been on,” model Aalany McMahan says.

As if there weren’t enough about Harry Styles to fawn over, he also has top-notch nail polish game, as many people know. He ended up matching with one of the models on the set and it became an inside joke.

“Me and him literally had the same polish on,” Ephrata remembers. “We started laughing, and he was like, ‘I think yours is more like a coral.’” Before long, it became an on-set debate: “Everybody was trying to decide what color our nails were,” she laughs.

ICYMI, Harry was recently knighted a “consent king” for asking before he touched Ephrata’s hair. “[The directors] were like ‘You can play with her hair!’ And then he was like, ‘Wait wait wait, are you even cool with that? Is that okay? Are you comfortable with that?’” she remembers.

It meant a lot to her that he took that second to check in (and she later asked him if it was okay to kiss him on the cheek). “That was a moment on set where I was taken aback for just a second, and was like, ‘Wow, he really cares if I’m comfortable. He cares if the other models are comfortable,’” she says.

It goes without saying that a Harry Styles music video is guaranteed to be flirty. I mean, this shoot required the models to lay all over Harry, rest their heads on his shoulders, sexily feed him, etc. Those vibes didn’t stop when the cameras did.

During breaks in shooting, Harry—ever the gentleman—asked the group of models where they were all from. Maris said Wisconsin, which piqued Harry’s attention. “He goes, in his very British accent, ‘Oh, you’re from Wisconsin? Are you a Packers fan?’” she laughs. “I was like, ‘Yes, duh, I’m a Packers fan!’”

Later, as the sun went down on the Malibu beach, Maris tried (unsuccessfully) to hide how cold she was in her bikini. It was January, remember? “In between takes, he kept asking me if I was okay, cause I was shivering,” she reveals. “He was making jokes, like, ‘Oh, you're from Wisconsin, you should be able to deal with this!”

But even for a music video for a song is probably definitely about oral sex, it only went so far as flirting. “There was a group of us who were trying to get him to go out to dinner, but he had plans with someone else,” Maris says. Have fun spiraling while trying to figure out who that someone might be!

Considering his entire brand is "treat people with kindness," it's no surprise Harry was nice on set. That energy started right at the beginning of the shoot. “He was nice enough to come and say 'hi' to us even before we started shooting,” Ephrata recalls. “He came and shook everybody's hand and gave us hugs and was like, ‘Hi, I'm Harry,’ and I was like, ‘Yeah, I know.’”

Throughout the shoot, Elizabeth says he would have conversations, ask questions, and joke around with the models. “Most people, when they hit cut, they just sit there quietly, they don’t interact with you, but he definitely did,” she says. “He’s so laid back. He’s so funny, sweet—he has a personality.”

Many of the models expressed that it was this experience that made them full-fledged stans: “After working with him, I was definitely a bigger fan,” Ephtata says. Welcome to the club, ladies!

[ts1989fanatic]

@ts1989fanatic

About me/us

My name is Martin but family and friends (including Tumblr friends) call me Vince. The wonderful LADY in the picture with myself is is my beautiful wife of 37 years Kat.

I love too cook always have just love to play around with and experiment with new recipes, I’m also an avid reader primarily science fiction but I love a good thriller also.

Love a good TV cop drama my favourite is Law & Order SVU used to make my daughter and granddaughter when she lived with us as a teenager watch as a life lesson.

And yes I am that old at 61 I even have great grandchildren (don’t even go there) both my daughter and grand daughter despite our best efforts started young.

I’m an ex British serviceman who met and then married my wife in Canada, we then moved to London England for ten years before moving back to Canada in 1992. We now live on Vancouver Island in British Columbia and they can bury me here.

My musical taste runs the gamut from rock to pop and from artists ranging from Taylor Swift obviously too Queen (my first ever concert at 16) but I really love powerful female artists. Some of who I have seen in concert Tina Turner, Madonna, Sheena Easton who was the opener for Michael Jackson.

My daughter once asked me why I like Taylor so much and it was difficult for her to understand it’s not just that she’s a fantastic singer songwriter but an incredible person beyond the music. I guess to really understand about Taylor the person you have to get beyond the tabloid image of her too realize it goes way beyond the music.

As a swiftie I often feel almost sorry for those who can’t or won’t get beyond that tabloid image.

I was very fortunate to marry a country music fan who introduced me to Love Story way back when Kat and I have plenty in common when it comes too music, but the biggest one is

Era when I moved from a low key Taylor Swift fan too a fanatic (see my URL) 1989 many many reasons for that covered in previous posts and far too long to go into here. Suffice it to say 1989 was and always will be that album.

This was also the one and only time we have seen Taylor in concert in Vancouver BC the only concert that comes close was Shania Twain we went too the Up tour also in Vancouver Shania was great Taylor was Taymazing.

1989 also gave me my favourite Taylor song ever with Wildest Dreams Lover came close to replacing it but not quite.

Taylor inspired me too step out of my comfort zone at the start of the 1989 era and to be brave enough to join SM not something I had ever even thought about before then, I tried Twitter first and that was just too much drama for my taste and that’s how I ended up on Tumblr.

March 5th 2015 is when I started this blog and I had no clue what I was doing (still don’t a lot of the time) so I started out just reposting swifties tour costumes seat # and show dates meet and greet pictures and it took off from there.

May 21st 2015 Taylor followed and I did not even notice until I started getting all these congratulations messages and no idea why. Someone had to point it out to me (Duh) how could you not see that notification.

Four plus years later my blog has grown way beyond my Wildest Dreams (sorry had to) we still have not seen Taylor in concert again reputation did not come to Western Canada and it was far too expensive for us to travel same applies for Lover even if there were tickets available travelling to California is out of our budget, but we live in hope for future tours coming back to Vancouver.

My message to Taylor

I want to thank you not only for the wonderful music you brought into my life, but also for inspiring me too try new things and meet online and in real life some amazing people. Without Tumblr I would never have me Tracey @worldsoldestswiftie (she’s not I married that one) and at a time when my wife was having life threatening surgery the lady who helped me keep my sanity Courtney Addison @nurseaddison there where multiple times that day that she talked me off the ledge Kat and I will be forever grateful for that.

You have brought a lot of joy into my life through your music and through your examples on how to be a little nicer and a little kinder too others, it costs nothing and makes me happy too be there for others.

So thank you Taylor

[adenei]

Auror 99 - Ch. 7

Chapter 7: Changing Headquarters

When Harry arrived back up on the elevator, he and Ron walked over to Captain Holt’s office. “Come in,” they heard him say, “And shut the door.” The blinds were already drawn so that no one could see in for their particular meeting. “How was the interrogation?” Holt asked.

“Well we’ve received more information, which is promising,” Harry said. “Is there a possibility that King can be a part of this debriefing, too?”

“Ah, forgive me. I almost forgot.” Holt walked over to the portrait and said, “We are ready for Minister Shacklebolt now.” The figure in the portrait nodded and disappeared off the side of the frame. No sooner had the figure disappeared than Kinglsey appeared in their place. 

Harry and Ron both looked surprised. Kingsley registered their shock and explained. “The Ministry has been working hard to develop portraits where the owner can ‘step into the frame’ if you will, to have a conversation. It’s a bit like using the floo, but works in long distance cases. It’s good to see you both! Now where do we stand? What have I missed?”

Ron spoke up. “Well, we had a lead on Gerteso yesterday. We tailed him and witnessed an exchange in Manhattan outside of McLeod’s. When the second person, who we were able to identify as Artie Rettinburg, disapparated, it spooked Jake and he broke our cover to try and arrest Gerteso. I dueled him, but it was unlike anything I’ve been in combat with before. He didn’t use a single defensive spell, and got away when he injured Jake.”

Kingsley nodded, so Ron continued. “Jake is fine, it was a low level fire curse, but I had to obliviate him and make up a muggle story for his injury with the rest of the team, which seems to be holding. We were able to bring Rettinburg in for questioning today, and he seemed to solidify some of our hunches.”

“Which are?” Kingsley asked interestedly.

“Ron believes Gerteso is a vampire, and is after someone or something with the Vampire Mob,” Harry said.

“Sanguinity?” Kingsley asked concerningly. “But Voldemort extinguished the entire population of vampires in Britain. There’s a very slim chance that Gerteso is actually a vampire, as he is British.”

“Not unless Gerteso wasn’t on any Ministry record, which we’ve found surprisingly little on him anywhere. The only way we were able to obtain his actual name was through the spells he cast while at Gringotts, and the fact that Ollivander kept meticulous records and hid them well away so Voldemort couldn’t obtain them before he was captured,” Ron countered. “Minister, er, Kingsley, he’s got the speed and agility that’s often associated with them, and the physical description matches, too. Plus, Rettinburg all but suggested he’s a vampire. He said Gerteso mentioned claiming what was rightfully his.”

“Which is? Kingsley and Holt both said at the same time.

“Something from The Cryptic. It sounds like Gerteso wants to kill him off and take his place,” Harry said. 

“It all fits, even down to the muggle identity thefts. He was biding his time practicing there until he could get his hands on the wand records so he could trace and locate The Cryptic.”

“But how does the laundering fit into that?” Kingsley pressed.

“We haven’t discussed it,” Harry spoke, “but my theory is that he needs it to pay his way into the inner circles.”

Ron nodded. “That would make sense. Lackeys like Rettinburg never get close to The Cryptic. Gerteso would need gold to buy his way in, especially if his vampire status isn’t well known.” 

“Forgive me for interrupting, but what I don’t understand is what revenge Gerteso is actually after. What is, as he believes, rightfully his?” Holt asked.

Kingsley looked at the three pensively. “I have a contact in Italy that may be able to clarify things for us. I should be back soon,” Kingsley walked off out the side of the portrait.

No sooner had Kingsley left, there was a knock on the door before it burst open. A short, bony blonde woman walked in with a look that crossed between equally furious and amused. “Raymond, Raymond, Raymond, did you really think you could conduct an investigation on my turf?” the woman seethed.

“I’m sorry Captain Holt, I tried to stop her,” they could hear Gina say from outside the office.

Holt ignored Gina as he said, “Wuntch. Who let you out of your cage in Satan’s hell hole?” Ron and Harry were rather taken aback at the Captain’s changed demeanor. 

“You did when you decided to prance into Manhattan and arrest a man in my area! Have you lost all common courtesy to call and ask permission before waltzing in and picking up an innocent Manhattanite?”

“He wasn’t innoc-” Harry said angrily, but Captain Holt held up a hand to stop him.

“He most certainly wasn’t innocent, Madeline, but we didn’t bring him in for his crimes. We brought him in for questioning and then let him go, if you must know,” Holt said those last four words in a manner which reminded both Harry and Ron of Snape. Each word was drawn out and dripped with conviction.

“I don’t believe you,” Wuntch said, getting a little too close into Captain Holt’s face. 

“You don’t have to,” Holt said without backing down. 

Kingsley broke the silent stare down when he reappeared in the portrait. He quickly realized there was another person in the office and froze, but it was too late. Madeline had seen him. “Wh-what was that?” she asked. Her stone cold demeanor breaking.

“Nothing, Wuntch, Satan’s probably playing tricks on your eyes,” Holt said.

“No, Raymond, that portrait was empty a second ago and now there’s a man in there,” Wuntch insisted.

Harry grabbed hold of his wand, and, blocked partially by Ron so Wuntch couldn’t see, held it up and cast obliviate. Instantly, Wuntch was none the wiser of what just happened. Once the haze had lifted, she shot Holt another look. “I’ll be watching you closely, Raymond.” With that, Madeline Wuntch turned swiftly on the spot and marched out of the room. 

Holt walked over and shut the door after she’d left and looked back to Ron, Harry and Kingsley. “I’m sorry about that rude interruption,” he said.

“Who was that?” asked Harry.

“My arch-nemesis on the force. Satan’s spawn. Thank you for your help in, wiping her memory, is it?”

Harry nodded as Ron looked at Kingsley’s portrait. “Any news?”

“Yes, actually. I think we’ve found a motive on why Gerteso is after The Cryptic. My contact tells me that The Cryptic is the head of the Sanguinity’s New York division. Apparently, Gerteso attempted to appeal to Sanguinity leaders in Italy, claiming he was a vampire, but had no records to back it up. They dismissed him and his request to start the London division anew following the second wizarding war.”

“So he’s out to claim a division of his own...what’s ‘rightfully’ his,” Harry said.

“Exactly.”

“But why would he choose New York? Why not choose a smaller, less prevalent city? Say, Boston or San Francisco?” Holt pondered.

“Probably to flex. Prove he can take down one of the most powerful leaders within the Sanguinity,” Ron offered his suspicions. “But here’s the real question. Do we stop by just catching Gerteso? Or do we let him lead us to the Cryptic and try and break the New York division as well.”

“Our jurisdiction strictly lies in the capture of Gerteso,” Kingsley said firmly. “Though I do not think that the American Aurors would disregard any leads you may have for them in relation to The Cryptic.”

Harry and Ron nodded while Kingsley continued. “Now that we know roughly what Gerteso is after, it would be wise to station you closer to Gerteso’s targeted location. MACUSA has offered their penthouse suite as a new headquarters for your team. They are currently outfitting it with all of the necessary items you’ll need for surveillance and research, including history books on the mob and history of vampires for Charlotte. I suggest you go back to your current flat and pack up your things. You’ll be able to move locations in a couple hours. You’ll use the code 2598 to gain access into the building and the bellhop will check your identity before passing on your keys. If you need me, call Holt for correspondence.” Harry and Ron nodded, as Kinglsey left the frame. 

***********************

The penthouse suite was surreal. Of course, it was magical in nature, so they were sure that it had been manipulated to fit their needs. They walked into a spacious living room and kitchen/dining area. The living space had plenty of seating and there were several computers set up around the edge of the room for research purposes, as well as a large bookshelf, filled with whatever they might need. There were two wings with bedrooms and bathrooms. Two bedrooms on either side, making four in total. Each room had two full beds with an adjoining bathroom in the middle to share. Charles was insistent that the girls take one side, and the boys take the other, probably to prevent Nolan and Charlotte’s ‘affair’ from continuing. 

It was late evening and the seven members of the team had settled into their new headquarters. Everyone had decided to disperse for bed, in order to get a good night’s sleep before tackling all of the research. When the coast was clear, Hermione had snuck over to the boy’s room and cast muffliato on the door so no one could hear their conversation. They were discussing the potential plan of setting up a watch within the wand records office in MACUSA. Ron and Harry were in agreement that they should go into MACUSA to keep an eye on things.

“...But do you really trust that the 99 is going to let you and Harry team up on this?” Hermione asked Ron. “Maybe we need to tell them. We can’t have anything mess this up! He could make his move tomorrow for all we know.”

“You heard Kingsley, we can’t Hermione! Man, I love you, but it’s a good thing you didn’t become an Auror,” Ron said.

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Hermione gave him a look.

“Just that you’re not thinking the right way about this mission. We’ll figure it out tomorrow when we suggest the assignments. They haven’t gone against our ideas yet, so I’m sure it’ll be fine,”  Ron tried to explain.

Hermione rolled her eyes. “Well, hopefully you do team up with Harry because you’re starting to adopt some of Jake’s mannerisms. When have you ever said, ‘man?’”

“Like you haven’t taken up some of Amy’s hobbies?” Ron tilted his head towards the binders in the corner of the room.

“Yeah, okay, on that note, I��m going to bed,” Harry said. “You two can share this room.”

Harry got up and headed for the door. None of them had realized that they’d relaxed their glamour charms. It was a nightly routine they’d gotten into the habit of. What was worse, was that their scars were becoming visible again, and it had all gone unnoticed thus far. Harry opened the door and stepped out, only to stop dead in his tracks. Jake and Amy were on the couch, heads close together in what looked like it could have been a snog.

[carewyncromwell]

Welcome back to the POTC AU! Sorry for the day-long delay -- I was out and away from my computer almost all of yesterday, so I wasn’t able to finish this up until today! XD; But yeah, moving on to the notes...

The information about the Chest and its locking mechanisms, honestly, was all stuff I had to kind of surmise and research, since to my utter shock, there were just about no sources I could find online discussing the process of designing the original Dead Man’s Chest for the Pirates films. There is concept art for it, showing some possible decorative designs for the outside, and there are prop replicas showing the different angles and the inside of the lid -- but there is NO discussion made about the Chest’s construction/locking mechanism or what kind of 18th century or earlier chests may have inspired it. And that kind of blows me away as -- for all of the films’ flaws -- I have to applaud them on taking a lot of historical influences for things, especially in the costume and prop design. I apologize in advance if any of my research on 18th century locks and lock-picking is flawed or incomplete, but I did try my best. XD;

The song “Fifteen Men on a Dead Man’s Chest” was originally featured in the book Treasure Island by Robert Louis Stevenson, which was written in the late 1800′s, over a hundred years after the end of the Golden Age of Piracy, but it has since become entwined with the idea of pirates in pop culture, to the extent that it’s also referenced in Pirates of the Caribbean: Dead Man’s Chest, where it’s sung by Joshamee Gibbs and of course it inspired the core concept that the movie is named after. The original song was likely about Blackbeard or a similar pirate marooning a bunch of his crewmates, but I changed the meaning slightly to better fit with this narrative.

This version of Davy Jones, who is in truth an AU!Finn McGarry, belongs to @theguythatdraws Ican’twaittotrydrawinghimsoon, while Juliette “Jules” Farrier-Weasley belongs to @cursebreakerfarrier...and the previous part of this AU is here, while the entire tag is here! Hope you all enjoy! xoxo

x~x~x~x

Cutler Beckett did turn out to be just as unpleasant as Skye and Orion had suggested. Pretty quickly Carewyn could suss out that this so-called “businessman” had no loyalty to or caring for anyone or anything besides himself and his vested interests, namely his own wealth and status.

Unfortunately Percy was not as quick to catch onto that, presumably because of Beckett’s stated interest in supposedly bringing all pirates to justice and (Carewyn suspected) the fact that Beckett had spoken on Percy’s behalf before he was named a Captain himself. Part of Carewyn wanted to chastise Percy for letting himself be blinded by Beckett’s attempt to manipulate him, but she knew she couldn’t risk doing so. Not only would it make Percy and therefore Beckett suspicious that she was more sympathetic to their enemies (namely, Orion, Bill, and other pirates), but she also didn’t want to come down too hard on Percy. She knew that Percy, being the youngest Weasley brother in the Navy, had a lot to prove, especially considering that his “older brother” (namely, Carewyn) was a well-respected Commodore and war hero. Even his real older brothers had gotten their fair share of glory while they were enlisted in the Navy and now were seen as wanted criminals...so it was little wonder that Percy was determined to stand apart from them, not just as great in his own right, but ultimately better because he didn’t “fall from grace” like they did.

Cutler Beckett stayed at Governor Farrier’s mansion for the next week and visited the fort just about every day in that time. Whenever he was there, he pretty frequently sought Carewyn out, engaging her in conversation and asking her about her experiences fighting the Spanish and in escaping from the crew of the Revenge. Carewyn didn’t enjoy his rather pointed attention, but she hid her discomfort and mistrust as best as she was able. As much as she really found herself disliking the man, she knew that Beckett trying to get to know her better could give her the opportunity to get some information on him too. And ultimately, her polite, charming affect did help her learn a few things.

“From there, it was simply a matter of applying the proper pressure to the cylinder with one of the hat pins, while pushing the pins into the proper alignment with the other,” Carewyn explained. “Once the padlock on my chains was properly unlocked, I was then able to adjust enough to still look like I was locked up, wait for one of the enemy soldiers to enter my cell, and then overpower him so I could take his uniform, weapons, and keys and escape.”

“You truly are quite an escape artist, Commodore,” said Beckett, his eyebrows raising approvingly. “I’m impressed.”

Carewyn offered a casual smile. “Thank you -- but I only learned those things out of necessity, Lord Beckett.”

‘Jacob and I knew we’d both have to know how to pick locks, if we ever had to escape the Revenge’s brig. And even before that, it helped keep Grandfather happy, for us to be able to open chests of loot we didn’t have keys for.’

“It’s not a skill set I like to use if I can help it, considering I’d much prefer to be the one locking others up, not vice-versa.”

“Yes,” said Beckett, “I suppose for one with such a strong moral compass as yours, it would be only natural for you to wish to enforce justice, rather than fight against it.”

“Just as I’d say it’s only natural for a gentleman such as yourself to work toward the protection of our realm and interests -- am I right?”

“Of course,” said Beckett airily. “Someone has to make sure that people get what they pay for and that business remains profitable -- make sure the world turns properly, as it were.”

“A difficult proposition for any one man to do,” said Carewyn lowly, “considering this wild, untamed world we live in.”

Beckett smiled -- unlike Carewyn’s, however, there was no warmth in it at all.

“Fortunately, Commodore, the world we’ve been saddled with will soon be a thing of the past.”

He and Carewyn looked out over the wall of the fort. Down below, at the western dock, several rows of newly arrived red-garbed militia were disembarking from a Man o’ War and marching into Port Royal.

“As the map is filled in, our hold around this world becomes better defined,” said Beckett. “Its treasures are collected, its value assessed...and with that, a new sense of order begins to take hold.”

Carewyn looked down at the Man o’ War, her eyes narrowing slightly. She hadn’t seen such a strong military presence in Port Royal since the War against the Spanish -- and yet, here they were, being used not against foreign countries, but against individual people -- some of them even British citizens. As much as she knew that there were plenty of pirates that weren’t as goodhearted as Orion, it still seemed bizarre to her to unload all this firepower to destroy and kill, as opposed to capturing.

“And hopefully, peace,” said the Commodore softly.

Beckett glanced at Carewyn with a discerning eye. “Indeed. Peace and order do go hand-in-hand, wouldn’t you say?”

‘Not if the order is being instilled by a tyrant,’ she thought, as Charles Cromwell rippled over her mind.

“Definitely,” she lied instead.

Carewyn glanced at Beckett out the side of her eye, before turning her gaze out to the ocean.

“...I only profess as much knowledge to this matter as one can acquire, fighting against the likes of Orion Amari and being in the captivity of a pirate crew like the Revenge’s,” she said in the hardest, least sympathetic voice she could, “but it seems to me that pirates know their existence is unsustainable. Regardless of how renown they are and how much they can terrify merchant sailors, they’re still only men, facing off against Empires and kings. And as the world is plotted out -- as you yourself pointed out, Lord Beckett -- there will soon be less and less havens where such criminals can hide...”

She then looked at Beckett with a cold look in her eye.

“...From the way things stand...it seems to me that it would be in their best interest to stand down while they still can.”

'It would be, if there was any true justice for those who turned themselves in.’

Beckett’s lips spread into a slightly wider, cold smile as he inclined his head in agreement. “Well said. There could always be clemency, for those who embrace that wisdom -- it’s just good business.”

With this conversation, Carewyn had gotten a proper fix on Beckett, and it made her feel more disconcerted. It only got worse when later that week, both she and Percy were summoned into Carewyn’s own office at the fort for a meeting with Beckett. Some might have been offended at the idea of someone coming in and stealing their office just to demand a meeting with the office’s owner, but Carewyn honestly couldn’t make herself care too much about that. She couldn’t help but think that Beckett being so forceful could only be a bad thing, and when she arrived in her office, Percy right behind her dressed in his shiny new Captain’s uniform and powdered white wig, she immediately got the feeling she was right.

Beckett had already made himself very at home in Carewyn’s office. A crystal decanter filled with red wine and several glasses had been laid out and an entire map complete with tiny soldier pieces plotted in different positions covered nearly all of Carewyn’s desk. There was also an even larger map that had been applied to the back wall, which an employee was currently adding more details onto with his paintbrush. Standing in front of Carewyn’s desk across from Beckett was a middle-aged woman with hair as ginger red as Percy and Carewyn’s -- when the two officers first entered the room, her sharp-lidded dark blue eyes ran over both of them, lingering on Carewyn critically.

“Ah,” said Cutler Beckett, his lips spreading into a smile as his eyes narrowed upon Carewyn, “Commodore and Captain Weasley. Good of you to come.”

Carewyn and Percy both saluted.

“Lord Beckett,” Carewyn greeted formally.

She glanced at the older woman out the side of her eye, to find that she was likewise still looking her over with narrowed eyes. Carewyn couldn’t help but look at her suspiciously in return -- Percy had said Beckett had a female associate...and, if Charles Cromwell was to believed, then this woman had to be  --

“Allow me to introduce my associate, Patricia Rakepick,” said Beckett smoothly. “Madam Rakepick -- this is Captain Percy Weasley, and his elder brother, Commodore Carey Weasley.”

Carewyn’s blood ran cold. Being face-to-face with the woman who tried to kill Jacob was like a dose of cold, shuddering poison to her system. It took everything in her to not look at Rakepick with wrathful, vengeful hatred -- instead, she tried to hide the bile she felt by bowing respectfully, her head slightly bowed to obscure her expression.

“It’s a pleasure to meet you, Madam,” she said softly. Somehow her voice came out levelly, despite the rage pulsing through her blood.

Rakepick’s eyes narrowed a bit more on Carewyn’s face.

“The pleasure’s all mine, Commodore,” she said, but she didn’t sound quite so convincing -- she almost immediately turned back to Beckett, looking noticeably impatient, “Lord Beckett, you can’t think that these -- ”

Beckett held up a hand to silence her and turned to the employee working on the map. “One moment -- Mr. Elliot, you may stop there, for today. On your way, now.”

The employee bowed his head respectfully, before descending from his ladder and quickly leaving the office. The door shut with a SNAP behind him.

“Now then,” said Beckett, as he rose to his feet, “Commodore...Captain...I invited you here to request a favor of you. Madam Rakepick has recently uncovered a rather unique and valuable artifact.”

Carewyn’s eyebrows furrowed. Even Percy looked startled.

“What artifact is that, your Lordship?” he asked.

Beckett poured some red wine and offered a glass to Carewyn. She accepted it to be polite, but did not drink it. He then similarly offered a glass to Percy, who took a sip, even if he still looked a bit confused.

“How familiar are you both with the legend of Davy Jones?” asked Beckett.

Carewyn’s eyes narrowed slightly. “The captain of the Flying Dutchman?”

“Well, I’ve...heard the stories, of course,” said Percy, glancing at Carewyn uncertainly. “We both have -- the silly things the soldiers would pass around, at sea...ghost stories, you know...”

Rakepick scoffed, crossing her arms. “‘Ghost stories’ -- and these two are supposed to be sailors? Any sailor worth their salt knows that these things are hardly just stories -- ”

“Madam, please,” Beckett cut her off very coolly, as Percy frowned deeply, clearly offended. “I’m afraid the stories are indeed real. We now have the Chest to prove it.”

He reached under his desk and placed an intricately carved iron treasure chest on top of Carewyn’s desk.

It looked older than anything Carewyn had ever seen, and yet also oddly beautiful -- the inset lock framed by the moon’s phases and stylized flames, and iron tentacles clutched at the lid as if keeping it shut.

Carewyn immediately put down her full wine glass on a side table so as to walk up to the chest, trailing a hand along the heart-shaped lock.

“This is the Dead Man’s Chest?” she whispered.

Percy glanced at Carewyn. “The Dead Man’s Chest? Like in the song?”

Carewyn shook her head. “‘Fifteen Men on a Dead Man’s Chest’ was about this Chest, Perce. It’s said that Jones was so determined that no one know where he buried this treasure chest that he abandoned the entire crew who knew of its existence on that island with nothing but a bottle of rum to sustain them.”

“Leaving them to take the secret of its location to their graves,” said Beckett. He was idly playing with a silver piece of eight in his right hand as he spoke, his eyes resting on Carewyn. “Alas, it seems that the key needed to open the Chest may be in a location we cannot reach -- ”

He shot a cool look at Rakepick, who looked very affronted and opened her mouth to say something, but couldn’t before Beckett spoke again.

“ -- so I’d like to ask for your expertise on the matter, Commodore. Can this Chest be opened, without its key?”

Carewyn looked from Beckett to down at the Chest, unable to hide the trepidation completely from her face.

“...I can’t say for sure,” she said slowly. Her mind was working very fast as she regarded Beckett with a cautious look. “Were it an ordinary chest, I daresay it’d be easy enough to find a way to open it...but if there were any kind of curse placed on it or, more importantly, the treasure inside it...it might not be wise to try to break it open.”

“Curse?” repeated Percy disbelievingly. “Carey, you can’t be serious -- ”

“I saw the curse of Isle de Muerta with my own eyes, Percy,” she reminded him sharply. “If the Dead Man’s Chest has such a curse on it, it would not be worth the risk to open it, no matter how valuable its treasure is.”

Percy immediately quieted, looking a bit uncomfortable. Rakepick once again looked Carewyn over with a critical eye, even as she gave another light sniff.

“The treasure inside is not magical, so it would have no chance of hurting us, that is for certain,” said Rakepick dryly. “And from all the evidence I’ve gathered, I found nothing hinting that Finn McGarry -- pardon, Davy Jones -- was particularly adept at curses. All of the abilities he has now were a result of the role bestowed upon him by Calypso, as ferryman of the damned.”

Her face then turned much more serious.

“I will agree with the Commodore on one thing, though: Jones’s Chest will be too strong for the likes of a single man to break open. Look at the lid -- there are dead bolt locks around the entire Chest. The only way we’ll be able to unlock it is if I fetch the key from Jones myself -- ”

“And yet the Commodore thinks it’d be easy enough, to find a way to open the Chest without that key,” said Beckett rather coolly, raising his eyebrows as he once again shifted his gaze to Carewyn. “Commodore -- if you would?”

Carewyn looked from the Dead Man’s Chest to Beckett again, before glancing back at Percy. Percy gave her an encouraging nod, but it didn’t make Carewyn feel any better. She wished beyond reason that Charlie or Bill had been there instead -- they’d understand why she was so hesitant to help someone like Cutler Beckett.

But at the same time...she couldn’t refuse. She was put in the position that she had to open the Chest, if she wanted to stay on Beckett’s good side and keep the position that allowed her to protect Bill, Jules, Charlie, Jacob, and Orion. Even if she did refuse to open the Chest, then Beckett would no doubt find someone else who would...and would also likely not trust Carewyn enough to let her overhear any more information that could help her protect the others.

'If the treasure inside isn’t cursed, then there isn’t much reason to refuse,’ she thought grimly. ‘And lining Beckett’s pockets with a bit more gold would only help me help the others that bit more, by earning his trust.’

And so, swallowing back the ball of fear in her throat, Carewyn started looking over the Chest. She turned it around a few times, examining the hinges and the dead-bolts lining the base of the lid.

“What do you think, Carey?” asked Percy anxiously.

Carewyn’s eyes narrowed upon the Chest as she ran a hand over the top and pushed down on each of the iron tentacles one at a time.

“Its construction most resembles an armada chest -- some of the Spanish captains used them to hold their valuables during the War, and I’ve seen some pirates use them too, to hold their loot,” she murmured to him, though she could feel Rakepick hovering over her other shoulder as she worked. “On armada chests, the locking mechanism is actually built into the inside of the lid -- that explains the dead bolts around the edges. It also would prevent you from just unscrewing the hinges on the back of the chest and opening it from the back, like you can on a lot of wooden chests. But armada chests usually have a false keyhole on the front, with the real keyhole being hidden under a flap on the lid. This one does not. Judging by the construction of the keyhole, there looks to be a double cylinder design -- one that requires pressure on both sides of the keyhole, as well as the pins inside both cylinders to be in the proper position...”

She looked up at Beckett.

“...It’s easily the most complicated locking system I’ve ever seen on any chest,” she said grimly.

“Can you open it?” asked Beckett.

Carewyn steadied her jaw, her face blanching slightly as she inclined her head in a short nod.

“I think so.”

Beckett got Carewyn the tools she needed. Due to the two-sided nature of the keyhole, she enlisted Percy to help her -- he had far less experience with opening locks, but he followed Carewyn’s directions as closely as he could.

After almost an hour, there was a loud, booming CLICK as all twelve of the dead bolts around the lid popped out and the lid opened a crack, letting off a small gasp of dust.

“You did it!” said Rakepick.

Despite the seriousness of her expression, there was a slight echo of excitement and awe at the back of her voice. She was clearly impressed.

Carewyn stared at the slightly open Chest. Her heart was slamming up against her rib cage anxiously.

Nothing had happened, when she’d opened it -- so had the Chest not been cursed, after all? That was a relief. And Rakepick had said the treasure inside wasn’t cursed, so...

Tentatively Carewyn reached out a hand and slowly eased the lid open.

When she saw what was inside, though, she couldn’t hold back a sharp intake of breath.

The Dead Man’s Chest was devoid of any of the gold or jewels she’d envisioned. Instead, all it held was a slimy, reddish, pulsing, thumping thing about the side of a coconut.

It was a human heart, still beating lowly despite no blood rushing through it.

Percy squeezed Carewyn’s shoulder as he looked down at it too, visibly taken aback.

“Is...that...?”

“The heart of Davy Jones,” finished Rakepick darkly, “first cut out when he was named captain of the Flying Dutchman -- for the Dutchman must always have a captain who’s left his heart behind in the world of the living. Only then can he truly be a subjective judge of the dead and dying at sea...and thus the souls of the damned will not haunt the seas and terrorize all those who sail it.”

Carewyn’s eyes were very wide. ‘Then...the treasure Jones locked away was his own heart?’

Rakepick’s dark blue eyes flickered down to the heart rather pitilessly.

“Not that Jones hasn’t done a fine job of terrorizing those who sail those seas all on his own, over the years,” she added very dryly.

“All the more reason for us to bring Jones into our enterprise.”

Beckett rose from his desk again. Taking a sip from his own glass of red wine, he came around to purposefully take a step between Percy and Carewyn and look down at the heart himself. His lips curled up in a dark smile as he reached out a hand and picked up the heart to get a better look at it.

“Whoever controls the heart of Davy Jones...controls the sea,” said Beckett.

He gave it a rather tight squeeze. Carewyn couldn’t stop herself from flinching.

‘If that thing is still beating,’ she couldn’t help but think, ‘then does that mean that it’s the only thing keeping Davy Jones alive? If so...’

She felt like her own chest was being squeezed.

‘...Beckett’s holding Davy Jones’s life in the palm of his hand.’

For all of the terrifying stories Carewyn had heard about Davy Jones over the years, both on the Revenge and in the Navy, she found herself feeling nothing but righteous anger and pain at this thought. What a disgusting, terrible thing to do to anyone -- no matter how awful a person they were...

There was a loud splash outside the window of Carewyn’s office.

Carewyn, Percy, Rakepick, and Beckett all looked up, to see a giant, terrifying ship erupting out of the waves just outside the fort. It was a sickly gray with torn sails and a bow cut into a set of massive, jagged jaws like a crocodile.

“The Flying Dutchman,” breathed Carewyn, hardly daring to believe it.

Beckett’s smile broadened, actually showing some teeth. “A rather fine addition to the fleet -- especially considering that it can go just about anywhere and travel in record time...”

Rakepick turned to Beckett sharply.

“If that’s the case, the first thing we should do is have him hunt down Black Jack Roberts. I know he made a deal with Jones -- he’ll have a way to track him down and kill him once and for all -- ”

Carewyn’s heart spasmed in horror, but fortunately no one else in the room noticed the fear flashing through her face.

“Didn’t you say you already destroyed the Tower Raven?” said Beckett coolly. “One can hardly see a pirate with no ship as a real threat.”

“Don’t underestimate Black Jack Roberts,” said Rakepick lowly. “By all accounts, he should’ve died, and he would have, if he hadn’t somehow managed to recruit a merman to his crew -- ”

Percy sputtered in disbelief. “‘Merman’ -- you mean, like mermaids? Those are real too?”

“Afraid so,” said Carewyn.

Her mind and heart were both racing, but she tried desperately to keep her cool. She couldn’t let them go after Jacob...or Duncan, either, if he was the merman who’d helped him like she suspected. Now that she knew the true power Beckett now had, thanks to her opening that Chest for him, she couldn’t stand by and let him use it to hurt her brother --

“...I can’t say I know much about Black Jack Roberts, aside from him being captain of the Tower Raven...” she said slowly, “...but it seems to me that attacking one man would be a poor way to use the weapon we’ve acquired.”

All three of the others looked at her. Beckett raised his eyebrows in keen interest.

“And what would you say would be a better way to use it, Commodore?” he asked, sounding intrigued.

Carewyn’s eyes drifted away from the others as she walked up to the window of her office and looked out, her arms crossed behind her back as she went. She tried to keep her face as stoic as possible, even with how scared she truly felt.

‘In order to pass up the chance to hunt down and kill one of the most wanted pirates in the world,’ she thought, ‘I have to offer an even more enticing option...’

The idea forming in her mind made her feel ill.

‘It’s been over two weeks since I saw Jules, Bill, and Charlie,’ she thought very quickly. ‘That’s more than enough time to have made the repairs to the Revolution and get some new crew members, especially if Orion and the crew of the Artemis is helping them. And...whether they’re just leaving or have already left...this way, they’ll know the true extent of the danger. All pirates will know what the Navy’s new weapon is...and can prepare for it.’

She closed her eyes solemnly.

“...I say we send a message to all pirates -- one that makes them tremble in their boots, the way they’ve made merchant sailors tremble at the sight of their black flags...by attacking them where they’ve always felt most safe. By arresting them somewhere they all gather together, in one place.”

She opened her eyes again, her gaze blazing as she turned back to Beckett.

“I say...we sack Tortuga.”

[dishearteningmediocrity]

I haven't seen anyone post this interview with Colin Clive before, and it's quite a good one. So anyway, here's an article from the Birmingham News-Age-Herald on March 4, 1934, written by Gladys Baker. The text might be kind of hard to read, so here's a transcript. (I didn't transcribe the other article about May Robson, so apologies to all you May Robson fanatics out there; let me know and I will do it):

“Gotham’s Matinee Idol: Colin Clive” By Gladys Baker, Special Correspondent to The Birmingham News-Age-Herald

New York--Today when no man is a hero either in fiction or the theater unless he has robbed a bank or murdered his grandmother it is a welcome relief to find a man who is a “gentleman” in all that the word implies.

I am speaking of Colin Clive. His personality and very fine work as the leading man in “The Lake,” the Katharine Hepburn play, made me insinuate my way back stage to his dressing room to find out if he (like the very careful Camille) were two different persons “off stage and on.”

I found a charming, ingenuous young man who looks as if there were so much more he could say--if he would.

My job was to make him say it!

Clive is tall. His eyes are very deep blue and very alive. Hard eyes to fathom. His manner rather shy, but delightful. After offering cigarets and a highball (Englishmen I’ve noticed have a sense of Southern hospitality!) we started talking about the theater.

The inevitable question: “Why did you go on the stage?”

“Why does anybody do anything? My family were all army people--members of the Bengal Lancers--and I was in the army until a smashed knee wrote finis to that.” (and now I knew the reason of that limp which has been described by some as a romantic pose).

“Then I landed in London job hunting. That is the obvious reason, but of course, knee or no knee, I would eventually have come to it. That inner urge that makes a man paint, write, or go in for sculpturing, was unconsciously driving me in that direction.”

He smiled--no, laughed. “Lord, but I was pretty awful in the beginning. Only, 10 years of repertory cured me of that--I mean my worse faults.”

“You believe in repertory, then?”

“It is the only thing. It is necessary, it is absolutely essential if a person wants to become a first-rate actor. Without repertory background I would never have dared attempt ‘Journey’s End’!”

It was Mr. Clive’s interpretation of the leading character in “Journey’s End” which established him in London’s inner circle known as “Artists of the Theater.”

He belongs to the thinkers of the stage. He can stay perfectly quiet during a scene and makes his audience think with him. He plays always with a fine restraint and a sympathy which communicates itself definitely. He is one of those rare persons who can play an entire scene with his back to the footlights and still dominate the stage.

Actresses have told me of his great generosity--speaking in the vernacular of stage folks--he does not try to steal the show.

*****

He is modest, almost to a fault, and is embarrassed at praise. I spoke of his excellent work in the movies. He said: “Sheer luck. I really don’t know anything about movie technique--the theater, perhaps--but I’ve been doing that for 16 years.”

Nevertheless he has made such a name for himself in the cinema that in the last six weeks three of the major companies have been bidding for his services. Warner Brothers won. He leaves Sunday morning for Hollywood and the Warner lot.

“Monday, I start the ‘Key,’ with Edna Best and beyond the first scene I’m entirely ignorant of the play. What a marvelous country you are!” He laughed and then grew serious again. “That is all right for me, for I’m a hardened sinner, but for beginners who suddenly find themselves facing big parts with no experience to help them, it is not an easy task. Those who have the real stuff win but they are the exception. The screen like the stage is beginning to demand experience from its actors.”

“Acting is a whole time job. There is more to it than the casual observer would think. The layman doesn’t realize for instance that the well modulated voice that he hears from the stage or the screen is the result of many tedious hours spent in coaching under voice culturists. The rhythm, grace of movement is not just a gift from the gods but is gained from well trained muscles--the outcome of daily sports or calisthenics.”

“Don’t you ever feel the need of relaxation?” I asked.

“Yes,” he smiled, “actors are only human after all. I find mine mostly in reading.”

This hobby was not surprising for I had been told that whenever a friend of his becomes ill that instead of the usual boxes from confectioners and florists he sends books by his favorite authors: Victor Hugo, Anatole France and Voltaire.

Noting a bottle of brandy on his dressing table, I asked him if he found liquor necessary as a stimulant for his work.

“No, the actor who must get his inspiration from a bottle of liquor finds himself in the same place that a business man of the same habits would find himself in. For acting is a business and dependability one of the chief assets. However, that doesn’ t mean that I’m a teetotler--drink has a good place in life.”

***

Among his best friends are Edna Best, Herbert Marshall, and Noel Coward--all of whom are his near neighbors in Kent, where he has a country place. He’s really a gregarious person. He refuses even to have breakfast alone. Found in that position he postpones the breaking of his fast until a congenial companion is annexed.

Another sport he enjoys is prizefighting. In fact, his first choice for the film-of-the-year would be “The Prizefighter and the Lady” (which showed in Birmingham as “The Conquering Sex”). It is testimony to his acting adaptability that he came straight from parts in musical comedy (“Rose Marie” and “Show Boat”) and created the dramatic role of Capt. Stanhope in “Journey’s End.” After which he played in “Overture,” a play written by one of his closest friends--the late William Bolitho.

This adaptability extends likewise to his geographical adjustment. “For the last six years I’ve practically commuted between London, New York and Hollywood. If it’s possible, I always go by plane.” He is one of the few movie celebrities on the coast who refuses to sign a long-term contract. One picture is all any company can be sure of his services. Tactfully he admitted that he disliked playing in the cinema. “One never gets the same reaction from the screen as you do from having an audience right close up.”

I ventured to ask about the “leading lady”--not of the stage or cinema--but of his own life.

“She’s not easy to describe,” he said earnestly. “I suppose you would call her a brunette, for her hair is dark, very dark and slightly bobbed except about the ears; she has deep, understanding eyes…”

“Oh” excitedly, “an Italian beauty?”

He threw back his head and laughed, really in a most un-British gesture. “No, to tell the truth this lady who rules my life is from Scotland--”

“Oh!”

Another merry laugh: “You see I’m speaking of my little Scotch terrier, ‘Brenda,’ who really makes a slave of me.”

Having had his joke he told me about his wife. She is a charming French woman who prefers life in Europe to “commuting” about the world with her celebrated husband. It is not as unusual as it sounds that Clive should have chosen a wife with Gallic ancestry since his own early life was passed entirely among French people. In fact, until he was 6 years old his vocabulary included not a single word of English.

[hookedonapirate]

Daddy!kink prompt: I know it’s different than the verse a bit, but what if they didn’t know the other was into that kink? And one day one of them lets it slip? Maybe? I think it could be fun/you’re ridiculously talented and I know you could do it. Thanks!!!!

Oh Daddy Prompts

Summary: Office AU. Killian is Emma's boss, and after a Freudian slip of the tongue, very inappropriate office etiquette ensues ;)

A/N: This one-shot is not related to the original Oh Daddy verse, per request, and so this is a fresh setting entirely. I hope you don’t mind this is not an established relationship, Nonnie. If you’d prefer, I can totally write one where they are in a relationship. 

I also paired this with another prompt from someone who sent their Oh daddy prompts via gifs. But I've only included one in this part and the rest of the gifs will be in another one-shot, probably used together if I can swing it. 

Thank you @itsfabianadocarmo for the delicious banner above!

prompt gif 1

Other Oh Daddy Prompts: 1. You’re being an awfully bad girl l 2. Daddy, can you pass the potatoes? l 3. Better than coffee l 4. Caught In a solo act l 5. Naughty School Girl l 6. Busted l 7. Bless Me, Father I 8. Tell Me When to Grab the Cupcake I 9. Proving a Point

Rated: Explicit

Talk Dirty to Me

Emma has it bad for her boss. She’s been working at his firm for about a year now and has yet to gather the courage to admit her feelings for him. Instead, she keeps telling herself they should remain friendly but professional, and every day, she carries this huge lie on her shoulders, and every day, either he goes into her office to chat with her, or she goes to his, telling herself they’re just good friends and nothing more. She’ll sit on the edge of his desk and they’ll talk about whatever—work, the weather, and anything that comes up naturally in conversation. She’d like to think he feels the same for her—if the way his eyes light up when she enters his office or the smiles he graces her with are any indications. He also has this adorable habit of scratching behind his ear when he’s nervous, and yep he does that when he’s with her.

But if he feels the same way about her, then why hasn’t he said anything or asked her out? Is it because he wants to keep things professional? He’s her boss after all, and if he were seeing any of his other employees, she’d think it was creepy and wrong and unfair (and yes, she'd be insanely jealous), but somehow she doesn’t find it wrong to fantasize about him every night fucking her on his desk or in his chair. She’s not sure if his feelings are mutual, but she’s sure he would’ve said something if he really heard her and Ruby talking about him in the break room a few weeks ago while they were eating lunch from the cafe down the street. 

Emma regrets the day she admitted to her foul-mouthed friend she has feelings for their boss because while Emma tries to forget (but miserably fails every single time) Ruby constantly reminds her.

“You know, Emma, I don’t understand why you don’t just march into Killian’s office, ride him in his chair like he belongs to you, and make him your Daddy.” 

Emma also regrets the time she told Ruby about one of her fantasies which entailed Emma calling him Daddy as he fucked her.

“Hello, ladies,” Killian greeted cheerfully as he entered the break room and headed to the refrigerator.

Fuck.

Emma’s cheeks were on fucking fire, and as soon as Killian turned his back to open the fridge, she shot Ruby a scowl so deadly, she was surprised her friend didn’t burst into flames. Ruby just covered her mouth trying to choke down a laugh. 

Thankfully, Killian said nothing and nuked up some leftovers he’d brought to work and left to eat in his office. 

To this day, Emma still has no idea whether Killian overhead Ruby talking about him. If he did, he never said anything about it.

Emma’s busy running some insurance quotes for a potential client when she hears a tap on the door frame. She stops typing to look up at Killian as he stands in the doorway. 

“Morning, Killian,” she greets, flashing a slight smile.

“Good morning, love. May I come in?”

Oh God, that smooth British accent, that silky voice always does things to her. She clenches her thighs together under her desk. “Yeah, of course.” 

He offers a shy grin and walks over to her desk. “If you get a moment today, can you step into my office?”

Emma gulps. Something tells her he’s not inviting her into his office to shoot the breeze like they normally do. No, this sounds a bit more serious than that. She clears the frog from her throat. “Yeah, sure.” 

“Great, I’ll see you then,” he says before turning around and leaving her office. 

Well, that was disappointing. He didn't even start up a casual conversation like he usually does. And did he seriously just wink at her? What the hell is going on? Is he finally saying something about how Ruby spoke of him? Are they getting written up, or worse, are they getting fired? 

But that was weeks ago.

Emma feels sick to her stomach and pales as she tries to continue with her tasks without constantly wondering what he wants to speak with her about. But she can’t stop worrying. So as soon as she finishes the mountain of work on her desk, she gets up and goes to Killian’s office, which is around the corner. The atmosphere is either very hectic at the end of the day, with people calling and requesting quotes or endorsements at the last minute, or quiet and laid back, and today it’s the latter. Jones Insurance Agency isn’t very big, but because it was just remodeled six months ago and in a prime location downtown, it does pretty well for a small insurance firm in an insignificant town like Storybrrooke. 

Emma takes a deep breath, her hands shaking and her heart racing as she knocks on Killian’s door.

“Come in.”

Emma steps in and shuts the door behind her. Killian’s office has an enormous picture window with a stunning view of the sea, and she always loves gazing out the window on a sunny day or in the evening when the sun is setting. But truthfully, she loves gazing at the owner of said view, who is currently dressed down, with his jacket off, his sleeves rolled up, shirt untucked with the top three buttons undone, exposing some chest hair, and his tie loose around his neck. 

“Hi, love,” Killian says sweetly as he drags a hand through his unruly hair before gathering some papers from his desk. “I wanted to go over these reports for tomorrow’s meeting.”

Emma sighs in relief, her heartbeat slowing a little as she rounds the desk and looks over his shoulder so she can see the papers he’s referring to. 

“You can have a seat if you want, love,” he says, looking up at her.

“No, that’s okay, I’ve been sitting all day,” she laughs. “I’m good where I’m at.” In more ways than one. Even though it’s the end of the day, she can still smell his intoxicating cologne. He smells amazing.

“I won’t be here tomorrow morning, so I need you to lead the sales meeting tomorrow if you don’t mind of course.”

“Yes, I can do that,” she says with a smile.

“Brilliant,” he says appreciatively and goes over the usual topics covered in their meetings, like what their best experience with a client was that week and what was the worst. They always share stories and challenges and ways they can overcome certain challenges. Their jobs aren’t the most exciting—Killian is a Life Insurance agent and the owner of the firm and she’s a home insurance agent—but she has a feeling sex between them would be fantastic.

She changes her mind and takes her usual seat at the edge of his desk because she’s wearing heels and they’re killing her feet. He doesn’t seem to mind though as he discusses sales numbers and quarterly goals and other things she needs to know to lead the meeting tomorrow but honestly, she can’t focus on a word he’s saying because he’s so close to her and she’s watching those soft, sensual lips move as he speaks, watches the way his wet, sinful tongue sweeps across those lips as he flips to the next page. 

She’s imagining all the things he can do to her with that tongue, imagines how good it would feel between her thighs. Emma crosses her legs, feeling herself growing wet at the thought and tries to shake away those sinful thoughts. She really shouldn’t be thinking about her boss in this way, but she can’t help it. She wants to ride him in his chair and fuck him until he cums. She wants to call him Daddy and tell him to fuck her until she can’t walk straight.

“These are some sticky areas, so we must focus on ways we can improve and hit our numbers for the month. I want our sales to be a hundred and ten percent.”

Emma’s mind is too far in the gutter at this point because it’s the end of the day, she’s tired and apparently she’s a giddy school girl all over again. “Oh Daddy, please talk dirty to me some more,” Emma giggles. She’s not sure why she says it; at first, she thinks she only imagined it, but the way Killian lifts his head and the way his pupils dilate, she realizes her mistake. And she called him Daddy!  

Oh fuck. 

She gasps, her eyes wide with horror. She’s definitely getting fired. She wishes she could crawl into a hole right now and be buried with her humiliation.

As she opens her mouth to apologize and give her resignation, Killian cocks a brow, a slight smirk hinting on his lips. “You better watch it, love, or Daddy will have to bend you over his desk and spank you,” he teases back. 

Emma’s heartbeat shoots through the roof, her mouth parted as she gazes into those piercing blue eyes. So he’s in a playful mood today? Okay, that’s good. She can definitely work with this. Pressing her palms into the desk, she leans in closer to him and murmurs, “How do you know I don’t like being spanked?”

Killian’s mouth opens, his tongue flicking against the inside of his cheek. God, he’s sexy when he does that. Her panties are fucking soaked.

“I had a feeling what Ruby said that day in the break room was true,” he says cockily, tilting his head.

Emma’s brows climb her forehead, pure shock washing over her. “You heard that?”

He nods. “Aye.”

Her stomach drops. “I’m sorry about that. Ruby has no filter.”

Killian chuckles, breaking through Emma’s walls of embarrassment. The sound eases her nerves a bit. “I’m not mad about Ruby’s comments, more like intrigued actually.”

“What?” On one hand, Emma’s completely relieved he didn’t fire her or Ruby even though he overheard their conversation, but on the other hand, it’s still embarrassing having her boss overhear a private conversation she had with Ruby, especially since it involved him.

“I’m attracted to you, Emma, if you couldn’t already tell,” he admits sheepishly, his eyes locked with hers as he scratches behind his ear.

“Oh...” Emma’s not sure how to respond that. After all this time he felt as she did? She’d wanted to believe it was true but didn’t know if it were all in her head or if she had gauged the situation correctly. “I, um—”

“I would never do anything to make you uncomfortable, Emma, but if you want to—”

“Oh I want to,” Emma blurts out, cutting him off. 

“Thank Gods.” Killian throws the papers on the desk and reaches over, slides his hands into her hair and tugs her to him, his lips crashing against hers so suddenly and roughly, she’d fall over if he weren’t holding her so securely. Her fingers assault his hair, tugging fistfuls of dark locks in her hands. She climbs him like a tree and straddles his lap, grinding into him, feeling how hard he already is through his navy blue slacks. It’s so fucking hot, Emma works her hips faster into him, wanting so much more, her heels sliding off her feet and onto the floor with two clunks.

“If you wanted me, you just had to say so, baby,” he growls against her lips, his breath completely wrecked and ragged.

“Killian...” she whispers as her fingers untangle from his hair so she can work on unbuttoning his dress shirt. “I’ve had so many dreams about this, Daddy.” Emma’s fingers are trembling but moving quickly as she desperately undoes the last few buttons and presses a trail of kisses down his chest through his feather-soft chest hair he always hides underneath his shirt. 

Killian groans and she peels her mouth away from him so he can lift her silk blouse over her head and toss it to the floor, revealing her black-laced bra.

“Me too, baby.” He kisses down her neck and cups her breasts in his hands. “Every time I see you, I wonder how good your cunt would feel around my cock.” 

Emma moans as he wraps his arms around her, pulling her to him and kissing the tops of her breasts, his lips brushing over the soft fabric. She combs her hands through his hair and pays no mind when her bra straps fall from her shoulders, too focused on how warm and decadent Killian's lips and mouth feel as he marks her skin. 

“I always think about you fucking me, Daddy.” She tilts her head back as he kisses the valley of her breasts, burying his face there, the dark scruff on his chin scratching her smooth skin. God, he feels good right there, just worshipping her breasts like he's never seen a pair of boobs before. And she's still wearing a bra.

“Bloody hell, that’s the best thing I’ve heard in my entire life,” he groans and unclasps her bra. “You should write poetry, love.”

Emma laughs through her lust-fueled fog, her cheeks warm with blush as he pulls off her bra and adds it to the pile on the floor. 

His eyes darken with lust as he drinks in her bare breasts, pink nipples tightening under his hungry gaze. “You’re so perfect and beautiful,” he whispers against her skin before taking a hard nipple in his soft, warm mouth. 

She moans, pressing herself into him as he sucks and nips and licks her breasts and nipples to his heart’s content, telling her how good she tastes and how good she feels in his hands. Emma shudders and closes her eyes, relishing the treatment. She loves being in his hands. His hands make her feel like a freaking goddess.

When he releases her nipples, he captures her mouth with his and she rolls her hips into him, wanting his cock inside her. Bad. But her skirt is impeding their activities so she raises her hips inviting him to push the offending fabric above her waist. He does so quickly and moves her panties aside, feeling how incredibly soaked she is.

He groans and mutters a slew of dirty curses as he slides his fingers inside her slit. “Gods... you’re so fucking wet for me. If only you knew all the things I want to do to you, baby girl.”

“Next time, Daddy,” she rasps, unzipping his pants and pulling out his manhood, trying not to think too much about what her words imply. 

She whimpers as his thick, rock hard cock aches in her hand. He feels so fucking good in her palm; she can only imagine how incredible he’ll feel inside her.

“Aye,” he agrees with a throaty groan while she’s stroking him and rubbing the head of his dick against her wet folds. His eyes roll back into his head and he has to force his trembling hands to retrieve his wallet from the desk drawer. 

After he finds a condom, Emma rolls it over his pulsating cock, loving how every ridge of him feels in her palm.

“You still want to do this?” He asks, searching her eyes for approval.

She smirks, not a trace of doubt in her eyes. “A hundred and ten percent.”

He chuckles and wraps his hands around her hips.

She clutches onto his shoulders, sinking slowly onto his cock, watching Killian’s face contort in pleasure as she becomes wonderfully seated in his lap. He fills her up so perfectly. 

Tightening her grip on his shoulders, she lifts her hips up and down, up and down, up and down, falling into a steady rhythm. She can’t believe after all this time, she’s making love to her boss, in his office of all places. With all her colleagues outside the door. With the window big and wide, looking out over the sea. She wonders if anyone can hear them. 

“Bloody fuck, Emma...” Killian breathes as he peers down, watching as his cock slides in and out of her slick pussy. 

“You feel so good, Daddy,” she rasps, barely keeping herself together. 

“Not as good as you do, love. Your pussy is so tight and perfect. Even better than I imagined.”

“Fuck.” Moving one of her hands to his hair, she tugs his head back slightly so she can kiss him while she rides his cock, her nipples rubbing against his chest hair. She swallows the delicious groan he offers when their tongues connect so perfectly, she knows she won’t last much longer. “I’m close, Daddy,” she moans against his lips.

“Come, baby girl. I wanna feel you squeeze my cock.”

“Oh my God.” Her entire body spasms as her orgasm hits her like a tidal wave, her walls clamping around him. “Oh, Daddy,” she cries out as quietly as she can.

He holds her tight as his own orgasm rips through his entire body. He groans and sinks his teeth into her shoulder as he cums. After a few more thrusts, they still, and Emma slumps into him, burying her face in the crook of his neck, his heart pounding against hers. 

“That was amazing,” she mumbles against his skin.

“You’re so fucking incredible.”

Emma lifts her head, still trying to gather her wits and steady her breathing. His cheeks are all rose-colored and so incredibly adorable. “Just to be clear, this won’t affect my next permanence review, right? I want to do well, but not because I’m riding you in your office.”

He furrows his brows, regarding her with a serious expression. “Of course, not. That would be bad form, love. But you’re already my best agent so this won’t change a thing. You have my word.”

She flashes a weak smile. “Good.” 

“So, you want there to be a next time?” He asks with a hopeful glint in his eyes, bringing up her earlier statement.

She doesn’t answer him with words at first, but she’s hoping the smirk and the slow, tender kiss she offers him says it all. Before she peels herself off his lap, she whispers in his ear, just in case he didn’t get the message. “Oh Daddy, there will definitely be a next time.”

Tagging some lovelies who have shown interest in the sneak peek or previous Oh Daddy on-shots. Please let me know if you would like to be added or removed: 

@itsfabianadocarmo @onceuponaprincessworld @teamhook @kmomof4 @resident-of-storybrooke @artistic-writer @ultraluckycatnd @gingerchangeling @ilovemesomekillianjones @captainswan-shipper88 @cluttermind @hallway5 @swanlovato @xsajx @jamif @biefaless @kday426 @hails-paige @asiamarie5 @qualitycoffeethings @mikeythegeek @idristardis @have-a-little-faith