#he also wants to be englands prime minister
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The First Son And The First Spare
Pairing: FSOTUS!Rafe Cameron x Princess!Reader
Warnings: Panic Attack, Swearing, Mentions of An Attempted Murder, and SMUT.
Pronouns: She/Her
Word Count: 10.1K
Summary: Just because they are the children of world leaders, it doesn't mean that Y/N and Rafe have to like each other. But what happens when they have to get along with each other for the sake of their countries?
A/N: This is inspired by Red, White, and Royal Blue.
Masterlist
The traditional wedding march plays as Y/N watches her soon-to-be sister-in-law walk down the aisle. However, Y/N’s eyes can only see one person. She narrows in on the rude, egotistical, pain in her ass, who also happens to be the First Son of the United States. What she wouldn’t do to bash his head in with her bouquet? Unfortunately, it would be unbecoming of the Princess of England. Fiona finally makes it in front of Y/N’s brother, Prince George. The ceremony begins and Y/N feels as though time slows down. The only thing that can keep her sane is the hateful glares she sends Rafe. She prays no cameras to capture her un-Princess-like scowl. After an hour and fifteen minutes, George and Fiona kiss and leave the chapel. Y/N follows her siblings into the open air, catching Rafe’s gaze as she passes his pew.
———
Greeting guests is one of Y/N’s duties for today as well as maintaining her family's reputation. While the newlyweds enjoy a moment in private, Princesses Y/N and Amelia exchange pleasantries with all the arriving guests. “I may not be into men, but I get why girls desperately fawn over him,” Amelia whispers to her sister while waiting for the Canadian Prime Minister and his wife to approach. Y/N addresses the foreign leader with a shake of her head before addressing her sister, “Thank you for coming, Prime Minister. Who are you talking about, Lia?” The younger girl’s flicks her eyes over to the next people in line. Y/N follows Amelia’s eyeline to Rafe. She lets out a low scoff, “You have to be insane to say that.”
“Right, I forgot you have this irrational feud with him.”
“It is not irrational. It is not my fault that he likes to bother me like a schoolboy. He is immature and a playboy.”
“Y/N/N, it’s called flirting. How can you not understand that he is delicious? I mean look at those ocean-blue eyes.”
“Being annoying is not flirting. I really do not understand the attraction of him. My Phelan is handsome and gentlemanly. That is attractive. Not whatever Rafe is.”
Y/N shouldn’t lie to her sister, but she would rather be stuck in a room with her most conservative relatives than admit to finding Rafe hot. Little do the two royals know two children of a president are also having a similar conversation. “What did I do to Dad to make him send me here? He knows I hate England. Wheezie would kill to be here with you,” he mumbles to Sarah. She gives him a teasing smile, “You don’t hate this country. You hate the fact that one of its Princesses would rather be anywhere but near you.” “Please, I could care less about where Y/N wants to be,” he huffs, chancing a glance at the mentioned princess. “Funny how I didn’t need to mention her name for you to know who I was talking about. And before you try to argue, even if she likes girls, Amelia is a Princess, who can be places.” Sarah skips ahead of her brother without waiting for him to answer. He rushes after his sister to stand in front of the sisters of the groom.
“Sarah, it is lovely to see you again. Thank you for coming,” Y/N greets the First Daughter and sends her to Amelia. She turns to who is next in line, internally groaning once she sees him, “Rafe… Thank you for coming.” “What? It’s not lovely to see me, Princess?” Rafe taunts, feeling her fingers grip him tighter than necessary. She holds her head high and away from him, “You are meant to address me as Your Royal Highness.” She doesn’t say anything else; instead, she has her eyes set on the next people in line. Rafe walks toward the ballroom where the reception is being held. “How can someone so pretty have such a huge stick up her ass?” he grumbles under his breath. He thinks it goes unnoticed by everyone, yet Ms. Stick Up Her Ass hears it all.
———
Y/N’s hands rest on Phelan’s shoulder and hand. They twirl around the room in time with the music, oblivious to Rafe’s stare. The lip of the glass meets his as he takes a sip of his drink. The rum burns his throat. He doesn’t get what she sees in Duke Phelan. The pompous ass looks like a massive buzzkill. Rafe doesn’t care though. Why would he? There is no care in him for the woman in Phelan’s arms. He must admit, when he first saw Y/N, fifteen-year-old him couldn’t believe she was as beautiful as her pictures. It was the first event he had to go to with his new presidential father and she was the only person there around his age. He was in anticipation of meeting her throughout the opening. Their meeting didn’t go how Rafe planned. He had no idea what he did to set Y/N off because he was only met with an icy gaze. It was nothing like the warm glow he saw her give other teens on television or even the adults today at the Olympics. “It is a pleasure to meet you,” she quips quickly. The words were polite; the tone was not. It differed greatly from how she addressed the others. From that day on, it left Rafe with so many questions and the only ability to return her behaviour.
The song comes to an end and Phelan breaks away from her with a kiss on the cheek. “I must use the lavatory. I will be right back, Darling,” he informs her. She spends the time searching for a flute of champagne, heading to examine the cake her brother spent an exorbitant amount of pounds on once she found her drink. The flute is placed on the cake table. She doesn’t notice the other person waiting near the cake. “You looked so serious dancing up there. Do you ever have fun with that snooze,” Rafe comments, not turning in her direction. She rolls her eyes at him, allowing herself to go against decorum for him, “For your information, I have plenty of fun with Duke Phelan. Although, it is none of your business, sir.” He can detect her lies easily. He knows her tell. Her lies are given away by the slight tucking of her inner lip between her teeth. The minuscule tell keeps up with her royal appearance and is recognizable solely by people who know how to look for it.
This is the longest they have gone without sarcasm dripping from their voices, so Rafe takes it as an opportunity to have a decent conversation with her. “Do you ever think about getting married?” he asks, giving her his attention for the first time since they started talking. She gives him a soft smile, “I do. I’ve always wanted a smaller wedding, even though it is virtually impossible because I am a royal. I imagine something more intimate, exchanging vows with the person whom I love. I could pretend for once that my whole country does not place me on a pedestal.” He doesn’t mock her for her dreams like she expected, which surprises her. Maybe, they can be civil with each other. She spots Phelan in the crowd and starts to make her way toward him. Rafe spots her champagne and gently places his hand on her shoulder to point it out to her. He overestimates his strength, causing her to stumble backwards from his pull. She slips on her dress and backpedals into Rafe, sending both of them flying into the giant white cake. The buttercream and sponge of the cake paint their skin and turn them into an abstract painting. Rafe tries to get out from under her. He slips on some icing and this causes him to fall on top of Y/N. She groans at his sudden weight hitting her ribs, placing her hands on his shoulder to push him off of her. He plops to his side at the same time that Phelan comes running to her.
Phelan hands her his handkerchief to wipe her hands off prior to him helping her up. Rafe wants to laugh at the ridiculous notion of getting her to clean up before she can be aided. If required to get her standing, he would’ve picked her up by her waist without a care for the cake getting on his suit. The handkerchief is handed to a waiter and Phelan brings Y/N to her feet. Rafe stands up with no help, going over to apologize to Y/N. “This is all your fault,” she grits through her teeth. She and Phelan make their exit for her to return to her spotless manner.
———
“This is an absolute disaster, Y/N. We are supposed to be presenting a united relationship with the United States because of the upcoming deal the Prime Minister has with President Cameron,” her mother criticizes, showing the multiple headlines of the cake incident on the screen. Y/N’s head bows, “I am sorry, Mother. I will make a public apology to George and the public for wasting the money by destroying the cake.” “That will be added to the list of damage control. Nevertheless, that is not the main focus of this meeting. I called you here to inform you that you will be heading to America tomorrow,” Queen Isabel states, rounding her desk to sit in her chair. Y/N leans forward, “I am not sure I heard you correctly, Mother. Did you say that I am to be in America tomorrow?” “Yes, Y/N. You and Rafe shall pretend that you are actually the best of friends. You will appear at events and hold interviews together,” Isabel begins. “I do not care how much you both hate each other, you will act as if you love each other. Did I make myself clear?” Y/N nods at her mother’s warning, “Yes, Mother.”
———
Y/N always prefers to fly commercial flights. Her mother rarely approves of such flights, except because this flight is not in the original travel budget for the year, a commercial flight was needed to stay within budget. It allowed Y/N to feel normal for once. She could people-watch without the stares of other people, not being recognized because of her coppery-brown wig. The different hair causes people to hesitate if they think she is her and they eventually chalk her up to being a look alike. The copper colour was chosen because it stood out but not too much. She spent her flight people-watching and reading over the dossier on Rafe. It doesn’t surprise her that he is studying Business at UNC-Chapel Hill, Ward after all comes from a business background. Even with the insistence of helping her from her bodyguards and assistant, Y/N persists in getting her bags herself.
During the car ride, Drew, her bodyguard, quizzes her on Rafe for the upcoming interviews. “Where did he grow up?” Drew questions. Y/N doesn’t bat an eye, “Outer Banks, North Carolina. His father was from the Cut, which is the working-class side of the island, but with his developmental firm, he bought a house on Figure Eight, which is the wealthy side.” “You didn’t have to go through that whole backstory. You had it correct after the first sentence,” he notes. She gives him a knowing look, “You know I like to be thorough. Next question, we are almost at the White House.” “Right, who are his best friends?” Drew continues. She thinks about the question for a second, “Topper Thornton. Son of Dr. Cynthia Thornton and Cyrus Thornton, a lawyer. As well as Kelce Smith. Son of Linda Smith, CEO of Smith Enterprises, and Scott Smith, an investment banker.” “A very detailed answer as always,” he is about to come up with another question when the limo comes to a halt. “Your Royal Highness, we are here,” the chauffeur calls out from the front.
The car door swings open and Drew shuffles out of the car, holding out his hand for her. She brings her knees together and shifts her legs to hang out of the car. She looks around the North lawn to find it void of a certain presidential son. “You would think he would be here to greet his own guest,” she snarks when a fancy dark green car comes drifting dangerously close to her. Rafe exits the car with a smirk, “Don’t worry, Princess. You don’t have to be without my presence for very long.” She ignores his remark and pursues the Deputy Chief of Staff, Zahra, to where the interviews are being held.
Y/N sits on the sofa with her back straight, which contrasts Rafe’s slouched position. The first interviewer arrives with a notepad and camera. “It’s nice to meet you, Your Highness and Mr. Cameron. I’m Esther Sparks from British Times,” Esther salutes, shaking both of their hands. “It is lovely to meet you,” Y/N returns with a smile. Rafe mocks her, “It IS lovely to meet you, Ms. Sparks.” He sends a devious smirk and she brings her eyelids close together. They answer generic questions about each other by different interviewers until they each ask one question that they both use to take turns to embarrass each other. “Tell us about the cake incident,” they would each press.
“He very much wanted to try the cake.”
“She was so distracted by my beauty that she didn’t notice where she was walking.”
“He was very inebriated and he fell into the cake.”
“She was so jealous about her brother getting all of the attention.”
Each answer received a laugh from the interviewers. During the final recording, the man behind the camera actually had a different eye-widening query. He lays out pictures from the wedding. “In all of these pictures, there is a fire within both of your eyes. Is there something more than a friendship that you have been hiding?” Rafe’s water spews all over the coffee table. Y/N hides her disgust whilst responding, “That is certainly incorrect. I am in a very happy relationship with Duke Phelan. Anything you have interpreted is not based on facts.” Only the camera captures the slight waiver of Rafe’s mouth into a frown as he processes her answer. Even he won’t admit it happened.
———
Rafe waits by her bedroom door while she gets ready as ordered by Zahra. He didn’t want to escort the princess to the car, but Zahra argued that it would look good optics-wise if they went out to the car together. Right at twelve-forty-five, her door creaks to reveal the most laid-back outfit he has seen her in. She is wearing jeans with a plain pastel pink T-shirt. He has only ever seen her in formal pants, skirts or dresses. The most casual she has been in pictures is semi-formal. “Are you finished staring? We have somewhere to be,” she quips, leaving him to watch as her hair swishes from side to side. He chases after her and holds the door open to get brownie points with the media for being a gentleman. Once he catches up to her, he clarifies his reason for his earlier gaze. “I was staring because I didn’t know you owned jeans.”
“I didn’t know you kept up with my wardrobe.”
“I… I don’t. You just always dress like you are going to a wedding or something.”
“Well, I’m sorry that I can’t always dress like I just rolled out of bed. I, for one, have to maintain my appearance.”
He chuckles at her retort, “Damn, look who finally got some good bite to her bark.” Her eyes form a circle and she has to stop the small stutter in her step when he opens each door they pass for her. He has to admit he really does like her new style. She looks more relaxed and comfortable. They both slide into the car, waiting patiently to arrive at the hospital.
———
How can someone so rude be so good with children? They all sit in front of Rafe, listening to him read from the storybook. He would change his voice for different characters and the hand not holding the book would gesture wildly. The moment would be interrupted if she tried to join in on the reading, so she silently observed the scene. He really does enjoy entertaining the children. They feed off of his relaxed demeanour and return it back to him. A toddler waddles up to her, leaning back against her knees. She hasn’t exactly interacted with a lot of children, so she doesn’t know what to do with him. At this time, Rafe finishes his book and glances at the uncomfortable look on her face. He leans in, letting his lips meet the shell of her ear. “He wants to sit on your lap. Pick him up by the waist and put him on your lap.” She gives him a hesitant look, doing as he instructs. She struggles a little and Rafe helps her by gently pushing the boy onto her lap. The young child is satisfied with the result. He turns into her hold, sucking his thumb with his head in her neck.
A thought pops into Rafe’s mind that makes him reevaluate his life. Y/N holding the toddler brings up the image of her doing the same with their own children. To have those thoughts, he would have to like her and that can’t be right. He can’t have feelings for Y/N. He doesn’t even know her last name. She speaks like an old person all the time and she can’t stand him. This must be a mistake. A trick of his brain. Because there is no way that he is falling for her.
———
After a successful afternoon of spending time with children in the pediatric unit, Y/N and Rafe are heading back to the car. A pop sounds throughout the room and Y/N docks for cover in a panic. Rafe reacts on instinct, using his body to shield the crouching Y/N. Drew rushes the two public figures into a storage closet and orders them to stay there until he comes to get them. Her breathing starts to quicken, feeling like she can’t get enough air into her lungs. He hears the gasps she lets out and he grows concerned. She must be having a panic attack, yet he doesn’t know what to do. He hesitates in bringing her head to his chest and he demonstrates his controlled breathing. “In. Out. In. Out,” he mumbles, cupping her ear to muffle the commotion outside. She mimics his pattern. Her feet take a step back, “Thank you.” “No problem. I didn’t know you got panic attacks triggered by loud noises. It’s not in your file,” he voices. She shrugs, “I do not desire it to be public knowledge. It does not uphold a royal’s controlled behaviour.” “Did… did you want to talk about it?” he offers, sitting against the shelving unit.
“During my first royal tour, I was five, a gunman tried shooting my mother. In the chaos, I was knocked to the floor whilst everyone around me tried moving away,” she begins to recount. “I remember how much it hurt to feel the toes of everyone’s shoes hit against my skin. I was so scared I was not going to be found. However, I was more terrified of going back to a family that no longer had a mother. I had no idea what happened to her.” Tiny globs of water form in the corner of her eyes and he pulls her in for a hug. “Since then, loud sounds remind me of that day,” she explains. The mood in the closet holds a dark cloud over both of them. Their arms fall to the ground and their fingers gently brush against each other. He can’t think of a way of cheering her up; therefore, he tries to cheer her up by moving the conversation along.
“Why do you always sound like you have a stick up your ass?”
She chokes a little on a laugh, “What is it with you and sticks up my arse?”
“It’s always funny to get a princess to say ass.”
“That is very immature. And to answer your question, I may be the second born but I am still the first spare. If god forbid something happens to my brother or he chooses not to have a baby. I would be up to bat. No one wants a normal queen. They want an exceptional one.”
“That sounds like a lot of pressure.”
“It is but it is the pressure I was born to handle.”
There is strength within her, except he can see how this expectation is chipping away at her. His pinky reaches for hers to provide comfort, “You may be born into the pressure, but it doesn’t mean you should have to deal with it by yourself.” Before she can answer, the door opens and the both of them jump apart. Drew’s eyebrows almost met his hairline at the sight of the pair. “The scene has been assessed and it is safe, Your Royal Highness. It was a child who brought a firework for his friend. No plans of harming you or Rafe,” Drew shares, holding his hand out for Y/N to take. The connection of her hand with another man’s causes jealousy to burn in Rafe’s stomach.
———
Rafe felt victorious once he finally got Y/N to use a contraction. It was over text, but it still counted. Ever since the day at the hospital, they have been texting each other. He had asked Zahra for the princess’ number because he missed being snarky with her after she left for home. He hates how his heart tickles upon seeing her contact name pop up in a notification. Princess. His hand reaches for his phone, not being able to hold his smile in. If this photographer tells me to smile bigger one more time, then I’m going to cut my lips off and staple them to his camera. Rafe chuckles at her gruesomeness. It was surprising to him when Y/N divulged her love of gruesome movies. He couldn’t believe the prim and proper princess of England enjoyed the sight of bloody murders. It wasn’t just any kind of horror movie though. It was slasher movies that she fancied the most. She said it relaxes her, which only slightly concerned him. Come on, Princess. All he wants to do is see your pretty smile.
She sees the flash of her lock screen with a notification. She can’t respond because the photographer snaps his fingers to catch her attention. Rafe is going to have to wait. After the photoshoot is over, Y/N gets changed into her sweatpants and jumper. She remembers she has to respond to his text, so she calls him instead. “Are my ears deceiving me? Is Princess Y/N actually calling me?” he teases, lying back down in his bed. He was about to get ready for the day; this was better. She shakes her head, “I am. Not because I want to talk to you, I need to work on my American accent. I’m planning on running for President. You know so I can actually be the ruler of a country.”
“I’m hurt, Princess. And here I thought you liked me.”
“There are a lot of words I would use to describe you, Rafe. Bring liked by me is not one of them.”
“I beg to differ. If you didn’t like me, then why are we talking right now?”
“Because I am bored and for some reason, I keep getting texts from you.”
A knock comes at his door before it is opened by Wheezie. “Dad needs to see you,” she relays the message. His head flicks up to acknowledge her and he moves his phone away from his mouth, “Okay, I’ll be down in a second.” A pout forms on Y/N’s mouth. “Aww, you have to go. But we literally just started talking.” “I know. I’m sorry, Princess. I think it is a good thing though. The more you talk to me, the more and more you sound like a commoner,” he jokes. She huffs, “Haha, I’m sorry that I no longer sound like I have a stick up my arse. I bet it’s disappointing for you.” “You really are getting better at sounding more human. I’m proud, Princess,” he lets out a disappointed sigh. “I have to go now. Bye.” With no other choice, he hangs up the call to go talk to his dad.
———
After months of texting and calling, Y/N and Rafe are going to be in the same room again. Rafe is hosting his annual New Year's Eve party. All the most prominent children in the world are going to be in attendance, so, of course, Y/N would be in attendance as well. Rafe and she are on familiar terms with each other; nonetheless, she is dreading the party. The holiday season involves being cattled to different events to boost the family name and Y/N is exhausted. Any other year, New Year's Eve would be the pause in the season she needs. This year is different because of the cake incident. To make matters worse, she obviously misinterpreted the type of event this is because she is very overdressed. Her black and white plaid knee-length polyester skirt matches her blazer and with her long-sleeve button-up, she is burning up. Rafe can spot her easily in the crowd. Her outfit makes her stand out more and he loves it. He likes being able to quickly locate her.
The dancing people part to create an easy path for him. He reaches her with a smile. “I’m glad you came, Princess. I was beginning to think you weren’t coming,” he taunts, kissing her cheek as a welcome. A whirlpool stirs in her stomach. Her hand grips her forearm, “Yep. I’m sorry I’m late. There was a delay on my flight. I also overestimated the dress code and now, I feel silly.” His head moves from side to side with a comforting look. “Don’t feel silly, you look beautiful. And hey, you’re using contractions so you fit right in,” he promises, a warm hand resting on hers.
He can see through the smile she offers. It doesn’t reach her eyes, which are slightly glazed over with bags just peeking through her concealer. His mood matches hers because suddenly his happiness depends on how she is feeling. “You look tired, Princess. Is everything alright?” he presses, stepping closer so his mouth is near her ear. Her head darts up, “Yeah, I’m peachy. A little jet lagged though.” He catches the way her bottom lip appears to be microscopically pitched between her teeth. “Come on, Princess. I don’t like it when you lie to me. So please tell me what’s wrong,” he implores. She exhales, “No offence, I really don’t want to be here. New Year’s Eve is the time that I get a break from being paraded around like a float. I can settle down in my room by myself in comfy clothes and as many movies as I want.” The corner of her lips droop downwards. “Why don’t we do that then?” he suggests, holding his hand out. Her breath hitches at his proposal, “You can’t leave your own party, Rafe.” “Ehh, it’s dead anyway. Let’s go,” he insists, tugging her out of the tent and into the White House.
His room is exactly as she imagined, although with fewer Playboy posters than she thought he would have. The sheets of his bed are crisply made and a peek in his walk-in closet shows clothes hanging at an equal distance from one another. Everything is pristine and in place, which isn’t surprising for the man she got to learn more about. He guides her onto the bed and leaves a pillow-width distance between them. The click of the remote causes the screen to light and he pulls up Scream. As the clock tickets toward midnight, the pair watch one slasher film from the franchise after the other. “Okay, I get why she stays in America in the second movie. No one expects to get chased after a serial killer again. But if it were to happen to me a second time, you bet your ass that I would be moving to a remote island somewhere after the second time,” Y/N fills the silence.
He chortles, “I’m with you on that. How many times does Sidney need to get chased by a Ghostface killer before she leaves civilization? What would you bring to your remote island?” “Horror movies, a Swiss army knife and you,” she rattles off mindlessly. His head swivels toward her, “Me? What about your amazing boyfriend?” “I love him. I do. He just isn’t great with survival skills. I would die immediately if we were deserted,” she clarifies, reaching for the popcorn they popped earlier tonight. He nods, “Right. I’m from the Outer Banks, so I can fish and shit.” “Yes, you can. Ooh, look. It’s almost midnight. Change it to the countdown please,” she implores, accidentally pressing her breasts against his chest to grab the remote for him. He takes the remote out of her hand; their warm hands brush each other to make both of their breaths hitch. She pulls away as he switches the TV to display the New York Countdown. The crowd of people on the screen starts to count, watching as the ball descends.
Rafe observes how the glow of the screen lights up her face. Her voice fills in with the partygoers. He is drawn to the way her lips move. They are stained a reddish mauve that makes him wonder what it would look like smeared on the skin around his mouth. The colour makes her lips even more kissable. He has to remind himself they don’t belong to him, yet he needs to know what they feel like on his. Fireworks go off at midnight and Rafe has to take this chance while he has the excuse of a midnight kiss. The pads of his digits face her head toward him. He leans forward and their lips meet. His mind searches for signs that she doesn’t want this. A push of his chest. A shake of her head. A yell of no. They don’t come. Instead, her lips move against his. The peck he was going to give her is reworked into something deeper.
She can’t be mad at him kissing her without any warning. She saw him leaning in for the kiss and had ample time to turn him away. He would definitely respect if she said it wasn’t what she wanted. This is wrong; she has a boyfriend. Nevertheless, her brain screams that it wants to know if his lips are as rough as she thinks they are. The contact of their mouths causes her to part her two petals. He matches her actions and slots his kisser against hers. The roughness isn’t what she expected; it’s less than she imagined. His hands maneuver to her hips to shift her onto his lap. She twines her hand in the field of his hair. Even if she isn’t pressing hard, she can feel the rock forming in his pants against the growing wetness of her pussy. The moment they are sharing creates a fire within her, akin to the one he normally builds. The difference with this one is that it is fueled by passion. Her head is woozy and she believes she needs this feeling to breathe. Being with Phelan isn’t like this. What she has with her boyfriend is soft like a cool breeze. It doesn’t spark this desire for more. It doesn’t have her chasing after it.
This makes her realize how wrong this is. She isn’t with Rafe. She shouldn’t sense the urge to be consumed by him, so she has to pull away. The tint of her lipstick coats his pale skin and he is wearing it with pride. The corners of his piehole droop like a wet towel. Her head wavers from side to side, “I should go. I’m really tired.” She swings off of him and gathers her things before dashing out the door. Leaving Rafe to wonder if he has ruined everything they had and possibly could have.
———
Going back to no contact absolutely destroys Rafe. The kiss clarified everything for him. He loves her and maybe his crush on her from when he was fifteen never went away in the first place. After running his fingers through his hair in frustration for not following her out, he took a picture of the way her lipstick was practically tattooed onto his skin. This vision deserves to be remembered forever. The flowery scent of her perfume is imprinted in his memory. He flicks through the pictures as he listens to Zahra go over the different events he needs to attend in the following month. In the most non-creepy way, he wishes he had more candid pictures of Y/N. The only ones he has of her are the professional photos that show none of her personality. She looks so poised and stiff, which doesn’t show the whole of her. “Rafe, Rafe. Are you listening to me?” Zahra criticizes. He slams the phone down on the counter; nothing would be more embarrassing than getting caught looking at a picture of himself.
He has no idea how to hide his lack of attention, “Uhh, you were talking about… How I need to go to LA?” “Stop looking at naked girls on your phone. I was talking about how you are going to go to the UK again for Prince George’s Charity Polo Match,” the Chief exasperates. His interests are piqued and he scrambles out of the meeting with Zahra calling after him. He is furiously typing on his phone. Hey, I know it’s been a while since we’ve talked. I just wanted to let you know that I’m going to be at your brother’s Polo Match, so hopefully we can talk. He hits the arrow to send the text and listens to the whoosh it lets out. It doesn’t take long for the sent under the bubble to change into read. It disappoints him that no bubbles follow the change. He doesn’t know why he thought she would respond.
———
Phelan sits beside Y/N in the Royal box with his fingers laced between hers. Thousands of eyes are probably on her, yet she can only feel one burning into her skin. She glimpses at him and their orbs encounter each other. “I need to talk to you,” he mouths to her. She disregards his attempt to speak to her and faces her boyfriend. Her lips plant on Phelan’s cheeks and his cheeks redden like a cherry. She moves to the shell of his ear, “Maybe you can meet me in the equipment shed in a few minutes. I have the urge to engage in coitus.” Phelan and Y/N are never spontaneous or lustful with their sexual intercourse. Phelan prefers the privacy of one of their beds and to be the one on top. While his slow pace is sweet, it can lead to Y/N feeling a little unfulfilled by the experience and makes her wonder what more is out there. She thought that maybe this could be the opportunity for that. Phelan leans away from her with a taken-aback look on his face. “We most certainly must not do so. We are in public and it would be inappropriate,” he scolds like she is a child. The hope on her face drops and she decides she needs to get some air. She excuses herself from her sits, heading to the equipment shed as she had originally planned.
The hut is empty and smells of the hay tracked in by the riders, who were returning their equipment. Peace fills her soul. Finally, a moment without the stares of everyone on her. The rolls of the wheels cause her to turn toward the door. Is Phelan surprising her? Her teeth flash to the entering figure; they hide once she sees who it is. “What are you doing here?” she murmurs to him, not connecting their gaze. He closes the door and remains where he is standing. He fears she will feel trapped by him. “We haven’t talked since New Year’s Eve,” he expresses. She acknowledges his statement, “I am aware of that fact.” She keeps her sentences short. “I know I shouldn’t have kissed you. I’m sorry,” he apologizes with his hand on the back of his neck.
Her head bobs up and down, “Okay, I accept.” He waits to see if she will add anything. Her silence lasts. “So that’s it. I make one mistake and we can’t be friends. I get that I made it uncomfortable and I’m not trying to say it is your fault, but you kissed me back too,” he points out, taking a step forward. She stares at him, “I should not have done that. I did not enjoy it.” A longing look fills his eyes and his head dips to be close to her ear. “Then why did you grip my hair so tightly.” Her eyes flit to his lips and she can’t contain herself. She throws her arms around his neck, pulling his face to hers. He groans at finally being able to feel her against him again. His hands bring her flush against him by the waist. He asks for permission to enter her mouth with a swipe of his tongue along her bottom lip. She allows him in with a slight moan. Their feet glide on the floor and she presses him up against the door. Being in control of this situation built a fire inside of her that she didn’t know could exist. No matter how hard or how much their lips are together, she feels like it will never be enough. A loud shout from outside snaps her back to reality and she can’t believe she did this against. Once again, she leaves him alone.
However, this time, he isn’t going to let her run off again without talking about what happened. He chases after her, losing her in the crowd. When he finds her again, he can’t manage to get her alone. As the event comes to an end, she is rushing off back to Kensington Palace with her sister.
———
He couldn’t let her go another time, especially since he was already in England. It was pretty easy to get into Kensington Palace when Amelia was such a big fan of him. “Let him through, Conrad. I like him,” she orders, beckoning Rafe into the palace grounds once the guard at the gate moves out of the way. “Thanks,” he says as they walk inside. She flashes him a smile, “You’re welcome. I’m secretly hoping you and Y/N get together. I already know you guys have kissed so we are almost there.” “Your sister told you about that?” he inquires with hope. If Y/N told her sister about the moment, then she is at least acknowledging it happened. Amelia shakes her head, “No, I can just tell though. She’s my sister. I have to go, but good luck!” She heads in the other direction, leaving Rafe to search for Y/N’s room.
He finds it and knocks gently on the door. She calls out for him to enter. Her room is exactly as he expected. It is completely void of her amazing personality. The pristine appearance fits perfectly with the aesthetic that the royal employees push onto her. He wishes she would be allowed to plaster horror movie posters around the room. He wishes he could help her litter the room with pictures. Maybe they could’ve been of them on dates or kissing or being in each other's company. The political books on the shelves should be of the smutty romance books he has caught her reading when they were first getting to know each other. The room definitely needs more colour.
She is sitting at her desk, staring him down. “Why are you here?” He walks over to her, “I’m tired. Tired of you always running off after we kiss, so we can’t talk to each other.” “Both times were a mistake. I have Phelan and I am perfectly happy. I do not want to see you anymore, so please leave,” she argues. His head moves from side to side, “No. Because we need to talk about it. I know we both felt that spark and we can’t just ignore it.”
“There was no spark. And even if there was, then why would it matter?”
“Why does the spark matter? It matters because we love each other and we deserve to give us a chance.”
“I am in love with Phelan.”
Rafe chuckles, “Really?” He towers over her; his breath hitting her neck as he brings his lips to ghost the skin of it. “So he satisfies you? With his kisses? With his touches? With his dick?” He kisses down her neck with each question and she knows she should move away, except she doesn’t. She craves the feeling of his lips and wonders the type of pleasure he can bring her. “We can’t be together,” she informs, thinking about what her mother wants for her future. A future that features marrying Duke Phelan. He disagrees, “Why not? Give me one good reason.”
“My mother says I have to marry Phelan.”
“I said give me a good reason. Aren’t you tired of doing what everyone else wants? If you had to be selfish about one thing, shouldn’t it be with who gets your heart?”
“And what would you do with my heart?”
“I would help you kindle the fire that burns in it. I would show you that you deserve to be treated as more than just a spare. Because you are your own person, Princess, and that merits the freedom of choosing who you marry.”
His tone drips with care and it squeezes at her heart. Beside her sister, he is the only person who can see past her royal side. “And who should I choose to marry? You?” she teases, placing a hand on his chest to steady her slightly dizzy head. His shoulders rise to his ears, “Maybe. I mean if you want to. Not know though. In the distant, distant future.” His cheeks redden at the thought and he rubs the back of his neck. “You’re right. I want to give you my heart,” she mutters to him. “I also really want to kiss you.” He takes this as an invitation to lean in. She stops him with a finger to his lips. “We can’t do that again until I break up with Phelan. It isn’t fair to him,” she tells him. He nods, “Right, right. I’ll text you the hotel I’m staying at. Come over when you do what you have to do.”
“Okay, I’ll be over as soon as I can.”
“Sounds good. Also, don’t think that I haven’t noticed you started using contractions again. But you know what would sound even better?”
She giggles, “Get your ass out of here so I can go break up with Phelan.”
———
Breaking up with Phelan felt like a weight was lifted off of her shoulders. He didn’t understand why she wanted to call it quits on them but eventually came around to the idea. She left him alone to cry into his pillow and went to Rafe’s hotel. She had one stop to go to first. She leaves the store wearing her newly acquired purchase and bounces in her seat while she is being driven to Rafe. She practically falls out of the car and rushes to the elevator. As soon as he opens the door, she attacks him with a kiss. Their lips separate with a grin and they laugh at her lipstick smudge on him. “In case, it isn’t clear. I want to be with you because you make me feel the most alive I ever have before. Like I can be myself with you and I won’t disappoint you,” she murmurs against his lips. Rafe grips her into his arms and drags her into his room, “You could never disappoint me. You are the most amazing person I have ever met.” They continue the kiss as he falls back onto the bed with her on top of him.
Her hands go to the buttons on his shirt and start popping them out of their holes. She tugs his shirt off of him, not breaking their kiss to do so. His arms rest at the hem of her shirt and he breaks the kiss. “We don’t have to do this. I know it might be a little early. We can just watch a movie or get something to eat,” he offers. She shakes her head, “I need you, Rafe. Please, make me feel good.” His dick strains against his pants at her pleas. He loves the neediness in her voice. “Your wish is my command, Princess.” He rids her of her shirt and he almost drools at the sight before him.
Her breasts are barely contained by the dark red lace cupping it. The material barely kisses the top of her nipples. Y/N was nervous about buying this for Rafe; however, with the way he was staring at her, she determined she chose correctly. This set makes her feel confident and sexy, which contrasts with what Phelan prefers for her to wear. It was always soft pink and covered her assets completely. Very feminine and cute. She prefers this feeling over that. She gets up off of his lap to slide off her pants and he takes off his. She has to stop herself from drooling at the size of his length. Even though she has never done it before, she wants to know what he feels like in her mouth. She drops to her knees and hesitantly reaches out for his cock. He can sense her doubt, “You don’t have to do that if you don’t want to, Princess.” “No! I want to. I just never done this before,” she reveals, dropping her hand down to her side. His eyes widen, “You’ve never had sex? You should’ve told me this was your first time, Princess. I would’ve made it more special.” “I’ve had sex. It’s just… Phelan’s idea of foreplay is running a finger through my folds and then squirting lube on his dick before he pushes into me, missionary style,” she explains.
He gives her a soft smile, “I’m sorry he never made you feel as good as he should’ve. I’ll make sure you get to experience everything you want to. But that is going to be the last time you think about him because the only man you are allowed to think of is me.” He joins her on the floor and guides her onto the bed. He looks up at her, “I want to show you how good foreplay feels and then I can show you how to give me a blow job. Is that okay?” She bobs her head and butterflies fill her stomach. He takes off her matching lacey thong and her legs spread for him. She can’t wait to fill his lips against her pussy, so she eagerly shoves his face into her heat. His chuckles send vibrations through her core and she throws her head back at the feeling. He sucks on her clit, flicking his tongue at it whilst he does so.
She doesn’t know what to do with her hands, so she threads them through his hair. After a few more sucks, he moves his tongue into her hole. He laps at it like she is his final meal. “Do you like how this feels, Princess? Am I making you feel good?” he seeks her assurance as if her moans and pulls aren’t enough of an answer. She brings him back to her, “So good. More, please, Rafe.” He continues his assault on her pussy and goes back to devouring her. She screams at the feeling, grinding against his face. His hands find her hips and hold her down against the mattress. He presses his face further into her. He can fill her walls trying to grip onto his tongue, so he gives her a finger to cling to. She tightens around him as he moves his finger in and out of her, using his mouth to stimulate her clit. She adjusts to the finger and he uses another finger to stretch her out some more. This is when she starts to contract around him and a knot starts to build in her stomach. Her back arches as she pulls his hair, “I’m going to come.” Her words motivate Rafe more and he speeds up his motion to bring her to her high. Her walls relax against him and he pulls out of her. “Look at my princess all wet for me. I’m so proud of you. You want to know what you taste like because you taste fantastic,” he praises. Wonder fills her and she moves his head to hers. She can taste herself on his lips.
He comes to stand between her legs as they make out and she can feel his hard length against her pussy. She parts their lips, looking down at his hips. His dick stands tall against the bottom of his stomach. “Can I suck you off now?” she asks in a small voice. He twitches at the thought of her mouth around him, “Of course, you can, Princess. You start off doing what you think is right and I’ll tell you what I like.” He helps her stand, grabbing a pillow off of his bed for her to kneel on. Her knees rest against the soft cushion. She gently takes him into her hand and examines every inch of him. The veins running up and down his cock call to her. Her tongue sticks out from the cavern of her mouth and she traces along them. She moves from the base of his penis up to his tip.
The tiny slit on the tip is oozing with pre-cum and she kisses it. Salt fills her mouth. She peppers it with another kiss before trying to take him into her mouth completely. He hits the back of her throat and she has to pull away with a cough. Rafe lets out a low laugh. He cups her cheek and keeps her off of him for a second. “Look at my eager princess, who just wants to make me feel good with her mouth. You need to sle help you.” His hands go to theow down a little. Don’t want you hurting yourself. Here, let m back of her head and slowly direct her back onto him. With the more controlled movement, she can get a better hold of her breathing. “See, there you go. You are doing so much better. Breath through your nose, Princess,” he advises. She follows his instructions and this helps her get farther down his cock without the need to come out for air. She isn’t able to take his full size, so he continues to aid her in handling what she can fit. His dick starts to spasm inside of her mouth and he tries to remove himself from her mouth. She doesn’t let him. She grips his wrists to stop his attempt and her head continues to bobble against him until ropes of his cum release into her mouth. She swallows the salty substance and drops him out of her mouth.
She licks her lips to gather whatever is pooled around her mouth. He yanks her to his feet and brings her lips to his again. He unhooks her bra, throwing it somewhere in the room. He kisses down her neck to her nipple and starts playing with the bud with his tongue. She moans at the feeling. He uses a hand to give attention to the other nipple. The manipulation grows wetness in between her legs again. Her hand goes to try and relieve the tension. His grip halts her movement, “Nuh-uh. The next time you come again is going to be on my cock, Princess.” He spins them around, so he can flop onto the bed. “Come ride me, Princess. Take what you want.” Lava must be running through her veins because she has never been more turned on by something.
She straddles his waist and her hand goes between their bodies. The tip of his dick finds her entrance thanks to her help. She sinks onto his girth with her head thrown back. She can feel every single inch of him thanks to the position and he is hitting places within her she didn’t know existed. She anchors to his hilt, staying still so she can adjust to the feeling. “God, how can you feel this good?” she questions as she starts to raise her hips. Rafe chortles, “Because you are doing so well for me, Princess.” His tip remains inside of her before she slams herself back down of her. This is so much more different than she is used to and she loves it. She gets to set the pace. She gets to determine how hard it is. She knows Rafe doesn’t want her to think about Phelan, but she can’t help but curse him for never letting her experience this. He can tell she is driving pleasure from the harsh piercing of his cock, so he decides to show her how much better it can get. His hand grips her waist and he keeps her still. His hips buck up into her with all of his force. She lets out a pleasured scream as she jerks forward. Her hand lands on his bare chest and her nails start digging crescents into his skin.
“God, Rafe. Keep going,” she begs between moans. Rafe grins up at her, “You like that, Princess? You like it when my dick drills into you? What do you think the people of England would say if they saw their beloved princess likes to be fucked like a dirty whore?” “I love it so much, Rafe. Please, let me move,” she requests. Rafe’s grasp on her loosens a little and he helps lead her down his shaft. The combination of both their movements gets him to hit her G-spot repeatedly. She starts to constrict and a bud of pressure starts to form in her stomach. Rafe’s thumb presses onto her clit, moving in a circular motion to intensify her enjoyment.
The tension of her walls around him causes him to spasm inside of her. She senses that his end is near; regardless, she doesn’t get him to pull out. She wants to experience everything that he has to offer. He is brought over the edge before her and he doesn’t think about removing himself from her as he does so. She can feel his seeds seeping into her, continuing her descent onto him to come too. His pace doesn’t let up and his thumb presses harder into her clit. “You can do it, Princess. Come for me. Show me how tight you can get for me,” he demands. The bud inside of her finally blooms into a flower and she comes undone around him. She drops so their chests are pressed against each other. Their drive doesn’t stop, just slows down until they have both finished coming down from their high. They clutch to each other like a baby koala to a mother koala. He smoothes her sweaty hair back with a kiss on her forehead. “You did so good,” he whispers his applause. “I am so proud of you. You made me feel so good. Did you like it, Princess?” She nods in his hold and kisses his collarbone, “I loved it. I’ve never felt like that during sex before.” “Well, that’s a damn shame. Whoever left you unsatisfied didn’t deserve you,” he notes.
The couple hold each other for a few minutes, taking in the serenity of being together at last. He slips out of her and they both feel the rush of their fluid out of her. She monitors as he moves around the room. She can hear the bathtub begin to run and he returns to place her into the warm water. Y/N scoots forward to let him in behind her. He rests her back against his chest and interweaves their fingers. The silence is good for their voices after all the noise they make during sex. “Why did you hate me before we even said a word to each other?” he ponders out loud.
She shifts in his hold and rests the back of her head on his shoulder. Her shoulders meet her ears, “I don’t know what you are talking about.” She can feel the outburst in his chest as laughter emits from his mouth. “Don’t play stupid with me, Princess. I’m talking about how I almost got frostbite when you first set eyes on me.”
“Right, that. You are going to think I was a little ridiculous or hate me for what I tell you.”
“I promise I won’t. I just want to know what triggered our four-year feud. You know so that I don’t make the same mistake with the next princess I meet and I can bed her faster than four years.”
She giggles and slaps the arm wrapped under her armpits. Her mood changes at the remembrance of the topic she is about to disclose. “I hated you because you had a dad,” she speaks out into the world. His arm close in around her some more to provide her with comfort. He kisses her cheek, “Princess, everyone, at least biologically, has a dad.” “I know. Except, you had a dad when I just lost mine. I didn’t want to go to the Olympics that year. It would’ve been filled with too many memories of the person I lost because my dad used to take me,” she clarifies. “And I was right. Everything reminded me of my dad. It hurt too much to be there. However, I had to maintain my composure because the world was watching and when I saw that you were there with your dad treating you like how my dad used to treat me, I envied what you had.” He nods to show that he is still listening. “It was a stupid thing to get upset at. It’s not like you had any control over it. Then, you reciprocated my attitude and I guess we got into a vicious cycle.” He plays with her fingers, “I see, I’m sorry that you felt that way and that I didn’t give you a chance before being rude to you too. I knew you lost your father and I didn’t think about that. “You don’t need to apologize. I guess this whole thing is just a miscommunication,” she makes it out to be what it truly is. Rafe’s chin digs and lets up from her head, “Yeah, I’m just glad we cleared everything up. I love you.” “Me too. I love you too,” she concurs.
They get out of the water and wrap themselves in the fluffiest robes. Their hands are connected as they head back into the bedroom. They flop down onto the bed and he loses himself in his thought. She rests her head against his chest, “What are you thinking about?” “I hate your room,” he articulates. She lifts her face to look at him, “Why?” “Because it doesn’t have any of your beautiful personality. I mean where were your smutty books? Where were your Scream posters? Where were the other colours of the rainbow?” he justifies. Her head falls back onto his chest, “Apparently all of those things don’t match the palace’s aesthetic.” “That’s stupid. I’m going to help you add some life into your room and we can start with some of my sweaters. I want to leave you with some piece of me when I go back home,” he informs. Her eyes find the bright blue sweater hanging in his open closet. Her heart skips a beat at his offer. “I like the sound of that. I have a feeling you are going to get me in so much trouble,” she thinks out loud. “I am. I’m going to turn you into such my rebellious princess.”
Taglist: @loves0phelia @thelomlisrafecameron @tv3verett
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Pet for Rent, Chapter 2/4 (The Idea)
A CS Modern AU Story
Thanks for joining me for chapter 2! Writing this story has been a bit therapeutic for me after losing my Zeke, and adopting Winston has been, too. I hope you'll stay with me for the rest of the story.
Shout out to @kmomof4 who sent Winston the ducky toy he has in the picture. His Aunt Krystal spoiled him with a welcome package the week we got him!
Thanks so much to @hookedmom. I'm lucky to have the best and most patient beta!
SUMMARY: Emma Swan tries to cheer up her heartbroken son by 'renting' a dog from the local animal shelter. When she attempts to do it a second time, she makes a mistake, and realizes the dog has been rented by someone else the same day - a very handsome man named Killian Jones.
CHAPTER SUMMARY: Emma, Henry, Killian and Norman/Winston spend more time together. When Henry continues feeling sad about having to leave the dog at the animal shelter, Killian proposes an idea that might solve the problem.
RATING: M (for smut in the last chapter, which can easily be skipped if that's not your thing)
WORDS: 6821
ALSO POSTED TO Ao3 and FFN
Story begins under the cut
Emma didn’t think it was possible for four hours with a stranger to pass so quickly. Sooner than she expected, Killian was looking at his phone and announcing that it was time to return Norman to the shelter. It may have been her imagination, but it sounded like there was a note of wistfulness in his voice.
Henry took control of the dog on the walk back, giving the adults an opportunity to resume the conversation that had been ongoing throughout most of their time together. Emma watched her son handling Norman as he wandered from one side of the path to the other to explore in the tall grass and she commented, “Henry is gonna sleep good tonight.”
“I don’t doubt that. He told me he had his last game of the season this morning.”
“That, in addition to playing fetch and ‘keep away’ with Norman, and all of the running around he did with you, will have him zonking out early.” They walked on a few paces, before she added, “I want to thank you, Killian, for spending so much time with him. Since he doesn’t have a father, he doesn’t get a lot of one-on-one time with a man, so I really appreciate it.”
“It was my pleasure. He’s a good listener and a fast learner.”
“Yeah, I kinda wish he had more games left, so he could apply what you taught him. I’m afraid he’ll forget it by next season. You’re wonderful at teaching, and very patient.”
“Thank you, Emma. I truly did enjoy it.”
“The youth league is always begging for people to coach. Maybe you could do that next year.”
Killian looked thoughtful. “Perhaps I could, if I’m still here.”
“Any idea where would you go if you decide to leave?”
“Not really, but it wouldn’t be terribly far away. I want to stay close to Liam.”
When the shelter came into sight, Henry turned around and dragged Norman back to Emma and Killian. “I had fun today. Can we do this again?”
“I’ll have to check our schedule to see when we’ll have another chance to rent Norman,” Emma answered.
Henry shook his head. “No, I mean with Norman and Killian.”
“Oh, uh,” Emma stammered, glancing at Killian, who was scratching behind his ear. “I don’t know about that, kid. This was just an accident and Killian was nice enough to make the best of the situation.”
“But Mom, he had fun, too, didn’t you, Killian?”
“What did I tell you about putting him on the spot?”
“Sorry, Killian,” Henry apologized. “But it did seem like you were having fun.”
Killian reached forward to ruffle the boy’s hair. “It’s quite alright, lad, and you’re right - I had a very good time with you and your mother today. And Winston, of course.”
“You mean Norman,” Emma remarked.
“He still seems more like a Winston to me. Don’t you see the resemblance between him and England’s former Prime Minister?”
Emma took in the dog’s jutting lower jaw, drooping jowls and prominent forehead, and had to admit he did share some physical traits with Winston Churchill. “Yeah, now that you mention it, I do see it.”
“Anyway, at the risk of being too forward, it would be nice to have another day with you and your boy, if you’re amenable to that, Swan.”
Emma thought for a moment, then said, “Henry, why don’t you take Norman to the end of the path and give us a minute, okay?”
He started to protest, but seemed to think better of it. “Come on, Norman. Mom doesn’t want me to hear what she’s gonna say.”
Emma watched him go, her mouth agape over his comment. She heard Killian chuckle and turned to look at him.
“He’s quite a bright young man,” he laughed.
“Yeah, he’s getting too smart for his own good,” she agreed. “But he’s still a little boy and I’m a protective mom. I don’t want to promise him something that’s not going to happen, so if you’re not serious about doing this again…”
“I assure you, Emma,” he interrupted. “I wouldn’t dream of letting him down. If you’re willing to give me your contact information, I’ll send you some options and we can figure out a day that works.”
She eyed him critically for a few seconds, seeing nothing but sincerity in his expression. “I know Henry would really like that.”
“Only Henry?” he asked, quirking a brow.
She couldn’t help but smile. “I have to admit, I had a really good time today, too. So, um, to answer your question, I am, how did you say it, amenable to doing it again.”
His grin made her heart do a pleasant little flip. She made sure Henry and Norman were okay while waiting for Killian to pull out his phone and start a new contact. Once he did, he handed it to her so she could add her information.
After handing it back, they began walking again. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw him checking the phone screen. “It’s not a fake number, by the way,” she said.
“That’s good to know,” he returned with a smirk, while typing out a text to her so she would have his info. “Is that something you’ve done before?”
“Maybe,” she replied cryptically.
“In that case, I feel honored that you gave me the real thing.”
She giggled in response, giving him a slight nudge with her elbow as they reached the end of the path.
“What did you say, Mom?” Henry asked, bouncing on the balls of his feet.
“Killian and I are going to look at our schedules to find a day that works.”
“Yay!” Henry shouted. “How about next Saturday?”
“Calm down, kid. I told you we’re going to figure it out.”
They arrived at the shelter and Killian opened the door and held it for them. David was sitting at a desk behind the counter, tapping away at the computer keyboard. He looked up with a broad smile when they entered. “How did it go?”
“Good,” Emma replied. “Thank you for allowing us to borrow Norman for the day.”
David looked between the two adults standing before him, obviously wanting more details. “Did you…all of you…get along okay?”
“Yes we did, Dave,” Killian said smugly.
There were several seconds when all they could hear was the barking of some of the dogs in the back. Finally, David sighed. “Alright, I guess I’ll just take Norman back to his cage, then.”
“Oh, uh,” Emma said, giving Killian a wink, “one of us will be in touch to schedule another day for us…all of us…to rent Norman again.”
David’s grin told them he knew exactly what that meant.
🐾🐾🐾🐾🐾🐾🐾
“I hear you met my future brother-in-law,” Belle said. It was Monday, and Emma had stopped at the library to return a couple of books and choose some more before her shift at the sheriff’s station.
“News travels fast.”
“Killian always eats lunch with us after church. He told us about the mix-up at the animal shelter and said he had a great time with you and Henry.”
“He seems like a nice guy,” Emma said, moving to a shelf and studying the books more closely than necessary.
“He thinks very highly of you, too.”
Emma shot her a brief glance. “Oh, yeah? What did he say?”
“Well,” Belle began, clearly struggling to be non-chalant, “he said you were very easy to talk to and he enjoyed your sense of humor. He also said he had fun helping Henry with his soccer skills.”
“He was really good with Henry and I, um, I liked talking to him, too. He’s supposed to contact me to figure out another time to rent Norman together. Henry asked if we could.”
“I don’t suppose you protested too much, did you?”
Emma chose a book off of the shelf and studiously perused the summary on the back. “You know I want my kid to be happy.”
Belle crossed the space between them and laid her hand over the book, garnering Emma’s full attention. “To the best of my knowledge, you’ve never once introduced your son to a man you may be interested in dating in all the years I’ve known you.”
“Wait a second…first of all, I didn’t introduce him to Henry - we met accidentally, and secondly, who says I’m interested in dating him? We’re simply planning to rent Norman together again. It’s really not a big deal, Belle.”
“If you say so, but I have to tell you that I’ve never seen Killian so animated while talking about someone. You certainly made an impression on him.”
“I’m sure I did. Dressed in old sweatpants and a hoodie, no makeup, hair a complete disaster - I was a mess.”
“He didn’t mention that. He just talked about how he enjoyed the time he spent with you and how much he’s looking forward to seeing you again.”
Emma could feel her face heating and knew she must be as red as the leather jacket she was wearing. She wasn’t ready to admit that she was just as eager to see him again, too.
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That evening, Emma had just finished checking over Henry’s homework and shooed him off to the shower, when her phone dinged with an incoming text. Picking it up from the kitchen counter, she couldn’t help the smile that crossed her face upon seeing Killian’s name.
K: I’m hoping this message reaches Emma Swan. If I’ve reached someone else, you can blame it on her. It was followed by a smirking emoji.
She shook her head at his ridiculousness, and decided to play along.
E: I’m afraid you’ve been misled. This Emma Swan must be a horrible person. She added a winking emoji.
It took a few seconds for the three bubbles to pop up, then she laughed out loud when she read his reply.
K: Oh, she is a terrible, awful person to give me a fake number.
E: She’s probably not used to giving out her number to random men who just happened to rent the same dog she did.
K: That seems to be a plausible excuse. Perhaps I should forgive her.
E: Oh, you most definitely should.
K: Very well. If I’m ever fortunate enough to see her again, I shall grant her my forgiveness.
E: That’s very gentlemanly of you.
K: I’m always a gentleman.
Emma heard the clothes hamper lid slam in the bathroom, signifying that Henry was finished with his shower.
E: I need to get Henry into bed. I’ll be back in twenty minutes or so, depending on how resistant he decides to be tonight.
K: Tell him I said goodnight.
E: That will probably get him all excited and it may be longer than twenty minutes.
K: I’m willing to wait.
Emma left her phone on the sofa and went to Henry’s bedroom, where he was getting settled under the covers. Sitting on the edge of his bed, she brushed his damp bangs away from his forehead.
“Did you brush your teeth?”
“You ask me that every night.”
“Yes, and half the time you’ve neglected to do it.”
“I just have to brush them again in the morning.”
Emma raised an eyebrow at him. “Did you, or didn’t you?”
He sighed dramatically. “I did. Wanna smell my breath to make sure?”
“Not particularly. I believe you. Ready to say your prayers?”
“Yeah.”
“Okay. Name three things of thanks,” she said, initiating their nightly tradition.
Henry tapped his chin in thought. “I scored two goals at recess.”
“That’s cool.”
“Yeah, I used what Killian taught me. Oh! That’s my second thing - meeting Killian.”
“Actually, he texted me while you were in the shower.”
“He did? Did he say when we can rent Norman together again?”
“We haven't had a chance to discuss it yet. He did say to tell you goodnight.”
“Tell him I said goodnight to him, too.”
“I will. What’s your third thing?”
“Umm…we changed seats in class and now I’m sitting beside Avery.”
“Just make sure the two of you don’t get into trouble for talking too much.”
“We won’t.”
“Good. Now, what three things do you want to ask of God?”
“To help me do good on my math test tomorrow, to send me another dog, and to let us see Killian again soon.”
They both folded their hands and closed their eyes while Henry said his prayers. When he finished, Emma read him a chapter of Fantastic Mr. Fox, kissed him goodnight and left his room, turning off the light on her way out.
Picking her phone up from her couch, she scrolled through the text conversation with Killian, smiling at the light banter they shared.
E: I’m back.
When a response didn’t come through for a couple of minutes, she went to her bedroom to change into her pajamas. Then she brushed her teeth, washed her face, and applied moisturizer.
When she went back into the living room, she saw a new message on her phone.
K: Is it okay if I call you? I’m not fond of texting.
She noticed that the time stamp was right after she put her phone down, over ten minutes ago. Instead of answering, she brought up his contact and hit the call button.
“Hello, Swan.”
“Hey, sorry if I kept you waiting.”
“I was hoping I didn’t upset you by asking to call.”
“No, nothing like that. I just decided to do my nighttime routine,” Emma explained. “Henry said to tell you goodnight, by the way. I always ask him to tell me three things he’s thankful for from his day, and you were involved in two of them.”
“Oh, really?”
“Yeah. He scored two goals playing soccer today at recess, because of what you taught him, and he was thankful for meeting you. That’s the third night in a row he’s said that one.”
“That’s very kind of him to say.”
“Well, you made quite an impression on him and he’s eager to see you again. Speaking of which, what does your schedule look like for the next few weeks?”
“It’s wide open, actually. Do Saturdays work best for you?”
“Yeah, because Henry is in school during the week and I work until five every day. I also work one Saturday a month. This coming Saturday is the one I work this month.”
“How about the following week?”
She switched him to speaker and pulled up her calendar app. “That looks good. Henry gets a haircut that morning at nine, but we could meet after that. The weather is going to start getting too cold if we wait much longer.”
“Liam has been telling me to be prepared for a cold winter. He says Maine is quite a bit colder than England during the winter months,” he stated. “Shall we make plans for that day, then?”
“Sounds good to me. Want to meet at the shelter at ten-thirty?”
“Actually,” Killian began, then paused for a few moments before clearing his throat and continuing. “I was wondering if you would agree to me picking up the two of you to go to the shelter together.”
Emma bit her lip, considering his offer. Her gut instinct was to decline because it would seem too much like a date, but her practical side said it was logical for them to make the twenty minute drive together.
She knew he was waiting for her answer and was probably having second thoughts about asking, since she was taking so long. “Um, sure, that would be fine,” she finally said. “I’ll text my address to you.”
“Okay, good. Shall we say ten o’clock? Will that give you enough time for Henry’s haircut?”
“Yeah. It only takes about twenty minutes, if that long. His barber is Jefferson and he’s pretty fast.”
“Liam recommended him and I had an appointment there a couple of weeks ago. He is fast, if a little…quirky.”
“Oh, you mean because he wears the top hat? I guess he’s trying to live up to the name of his shop.”
“Just naming his shop the Mad Hatter of Hair makes him sound a bit eccentric.”
Emma laughed. “He’s harmless, though. His daughter Grace is in Henry’s class and she’s very sweet. Jefferson is raising her by himself. His wife passed away before Grace started kindergarten.”
“How sad. Now I feel bad for judging him.”
“I wouldn’t say you were judging him, just making an accurate observation. I knew him before his wife died and he was every bit as quirky as he is now.”
They continued talking for another twenty minutes. Just like the day they met, the conversation didn’t lag at all as they transitioned easily from one subject to another. Before they ended the call, Killian asked if it would be alright to call her again later in the week and she agreed without hesitation.
Lying in bed that night, Emma smiled dreamily as she replayed their conversation in her mind. She may be venturing into self-imposed forbidden territory ever since Henry’s father abandoned her, but Killian Jones intrigued her and she couldn’t find it within herself to care.
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Killian called Emma four more times over the next two weeks. Their conversations lasted longer each time, until they spent over an hour talking and laughing on Thursday, before their scheduled outing.
He suggested that they take Norman back to Storybrooke’s nature preserve after picking him up, which she thought was a great idea. She mentioned that she and Henry spent quite a bit of time there during the summer, hiking the trails and wading in the creek. Despite intending to visit, Killian hadn’t been able to get there yet and was happy to know his first time would be with Emma, Henry and Norman.
Saturday morning found him taking more time than usual to get ready. He chided himself for being a bit vain, but wanted to make the extra effort for the lovely lady Swan. If things went well, he was planning to ask her out on a proper date.
He had confided his intention to Belle, hoping she would give him advice about where to take Emma, should she agree. Not only did his future sister-in-law present him with recommendations, she also mentioned that she would be happy to watch Henry, and was sure Liam would, too.
Once Killian was satisfied with his appearance, he tried to occupy himself until it was time to drive to Emma and Henry’s house. After going online and paying some bills, washing the few dishes in the sink and sorting his laundry, he still had about twenty minutes left.
His heart sank when he heard the notification for an incoming text, thinking it might be Emma cancelling their plans. He was relieved, then a little apprehensive to see it was from his brother. Belle promised she wouldn’t say anything to Liam about his plans to ask Emma on a date, but they were an engaged couple and couples weren’t supposed to keep secrets from each other. Unfortunately, his former girlfriend hadn’t abided by that rule, since she kept one whopper of a secret from him.
L: Any plans for this afternoon, little brother?
Killian dropped his head back with a sigh. Not only did Liam insist on calling him that irritating moniker, now he had to explain that he did indeed have plans. He was sure he would have to answer questions about what they were and with whom, since he rarely did anything on the weekends.
K: Actually, I do.
L: Oh, really? What are you doing?
K: I’m renting Winston from the shelter again.
L: Great! Belle is working today. Would you mind if I came over to see the little guy?
Killian’s thumbs hovered over his screen, trying to decide how to tell his brother no without sounding rude. Even though Liam was acquainted with Emma, he tended to be over protective, and Killian didn’t want him giving her the third degree or making her feel uncomfortable. Plus, he selfishly wanted to spend time alone with her and Henry.
Glancing at the clock, he saw it was almost time for him to leave. Quickly, he typed a message he was hoping would appease Liam.
K: Sorry, not this time. Emma, Henry and I made plans to spend another day together with him.
As he pulled on his jacket, he heard another notification. Closing his eyes momentarily, he opened them to read Liam’s message, then released a relieved breath.
L: I hope the four of you have a good time, so I can see that look of happiness on your face again.
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“Henry, Killian’s here!” Emma announced, dropping the curtain after seeing his car pull up to the curb.
“Coming!” she heard him yell in response.
She quickly ducked into the bathroom and inspected her appearance in the mirror one more time. She hoped to make a better impression on Killian by applying light makeup and pulling her hair back into a neat ponytail. Her outfit was simple - jeans, sneakers, her favorite light blue blouse, and red leather jacket.
The doorbell rang as she re-entered the living room, but before she could get to the door, Henry sped past her to pull it open. “Hey, Killian!” he said excitedly.
“Hello, lad,” Killian answered, then shifted his eyes from Henry to Emma. She saw him swallow before giving her one of his winning smiles. “Good morning, Emma.”
“Hi, Killian. You’re right on time.”
“Not being prompt is bad form, Swan.” Looking at Henry again, he stated, “Your haircut makes you look a bit older.”
Henry reached up to run both hands along the sides of his head. “Do you really think so?”
“Aye, at least a year or two.”
“Please don’t say that,” Emma said, handing Henry his jacket. “He’s growing up way too fast as it is.”
During the drive to the shelter, Henry talked about one thing after another. Emma wondered if Killian would tire of her son’s constant chatter, but his questions at regular intervals proved he was fully engaged in what Henry had to say.
Meanwhile, she spent the time admiring the man beside her. He was dressed in dark, stonewashed jeans, an army green button-down shirt, and the same black leather jacket he wore the first time they met. His scruff was neatly trimmed and his dark hair artfully combed. His rich laugh at some of Henry’s comments was a sound she was sure she would never get tired of hearing.
When they entered the shelter, David gave them a smug smile that Emma tried to ignore. She knew he was probably patting himself on the back for his matchmaking, but she really didn’t mind, because meeting Killian was, so far, a positive experience.
Norman was extremely excited to see them again, and after everyone got into the car, they were on their way back to Storybrooke. Henry was preoccupied with Norman in the back seat, so the adults finally had a chance to chat with each other. Their conversation was as free-flowing as it had been every other time they spoke in the past two weeks. Emma had never met anyone so easy to talk to, and wondered if it was because their backgrounds were so similar.
During their earlier phone conversations, she learned his father had abandoned his family when Killian and Liam were little, leaving their mother to raise them alone. She shared how she was abandoned at a fire station baby box when she was less than a week old, and had never been adopted. They both had been in situations where they were deceived and misled by the person they loved. Emma came to realize that being able to empathize with someone else made it easier to connect with them, just as she had with Killian.
The crisp autumn weather was perfect for hiking at the nature preserve. They explored all of the available paths and walked along the shores of the creek. The water was too chilly for wading, but Norman enjoyed splashing in now and then when he spotted a particularly intriguing leaf, bug or stick.
After hiking for a couple of hours, they took a break to drink Gatorade and snack on protein bars, thoughtfully packed by Killian. He also had treats for Norman, which Henry used to try and teach the dog again how to sit on command.
They stayed until the last possible minute before getting into the car for the drive back to the shelter. No one spoke for several miles, until Henry finally said, “I really wish we didn’t have to take Norman back there. He’s always so sad. Why can’t we just adopt him, Mom?”
Emma glanced over at Killian, who met her eyes for a second before directing his back to the road. “I wish we could, but it wouldn’t really be fair to Norman. We’re both gone all day and he would have to be penned up that whole time.”
“But he loves us and we love him!” Henry exclaimed. “Ernie didn’t have to be penned up and he was fine during the day.”
Emma turned to look at her son. “I know, kid, but it was easy with Ernie. He was with us for several years and was older. Norman is young and full of energy, so he’s going to need a lot more attention and training. I wouldn’t trust him being in the house all day by himself.”
Henry heaved a huge sigh. “Okay.”
They were all silent for the rest of the drive. Emma saw Killian look at her out of the corner of his eye once in a while, but they didn’t carry on a conversation. She spent the time thinking about the practicality of adopting Norman, but knew she would have to stick to her guns, because it just wouldn’t be fair to the rambunctious dog to be cooped up all day.
When they reached the shelter and exited the car, Killian slowed Emma down by placing a hand on her arm, while Henry entered the building with Norman. “Emma, I’ve been giving it some thought and I have an idea, if you’re open to it.”
She shrugged slightly. “Sure, let’s hear it.”
“Perhaps, if you adopted Win-, er, Norman, I could keep him during the day while you’re at work and school. I could pick him up in the morning before you leave and drop him off after you get home.”
“Sort of like shared custody or dog sitting?” she asked, turning to face him.
He chuckled. “Aye, something like that, I suppose.”
“I don’t know, Killian. That seems like a pretty big commitment between people who barely know each other. You’re not even sure you’re going to stay in Storybrooke.”
He scratched behind his ear. “If I move, it won’t be for a while, since I signed a six month lease on my apartment. That would give us time to train the dog. I know we’ve just met, but I…I’ve enjoyed getting to know you and your boy. I’m hoping this is just the beginning of our friendship.”
Emma stuck her hands in the back pocket of her jeans and rocked back on her heels. “I hope so, too, but I’m still not sure about the arrangement you’re suggesting.”
“I completely understand,” he said, then paused before asking, “Are you counting it out altogether, or will you consider it?”
She pulled her lip between her teeth in thought for a few seconds. “I’ll consider it,” she finally answered.
He gave her a small smile, then moved to open the door for her.
They went inside to see Henry sitting cross-legged on the floor with Norman, the dog’s head resting on his leg. David was listening to the boy give him a detailed description of their day at the nature preserve and looked up to give them a big grin. “Sounds like you had quite the adventure today.”
“Aye, we all had quite a workout,” Killian responded. “It’s quite a lovely place.”
“Yeah, we’re lucky to have it in Storybrooke,” David said. “Mary Margaret takes her class there on a field trip every year.”
Henry’s head whipped around. “Mrs. Nolan didn’t take our class!”
“It’s early in the school year,” Emma said. “I’m sure she’ll take you sometime.”
“They usually go in the spring,” David explained, as he walked around the end of the counter. “Are you ready for me to take Norman?”
“No,” Henry said, his voice muffled as he buried his face in the dog’s neck.
The three adults exchanged understanding looks. They gave the boy a couple more minutes, before Emma picked up the end of the leash and put her hand on Henry’s head. “It’s time to say goodbye to him, kid.”
Henry drew back to look at Norman. “Goodbye, boy. I’m gonna miss you.” He kissed the dog on top of the head and rubbed his ears.
Emma reached down to pet the dog, then handed the leash to David. Killian stood beside her to pat Norman, too, telling him to be a good boy.
David bid them all goodbye, then headed to the back with the dog reluctantly following him. Henry looked up at Emma from where he still sat on the floor. “Mom…”
“Henry, don’t say it. I already told you why it’s not a good idea to adopt him right now.”
“Right now? Does that mean we can adopt him later?”
“That’s not what I meant,” Emma replied, giving him her patented ‘don’t push it’ look. “Let’s go, kid.”
With a long-suffering sigh, Henry pushed himself to his feet and followed her out the door Killian was holding open. Once they were in the car and on their way to Storybrooke, Killian asked, “Would you, um, would the two of you like to get a late lunch at Granny’s, when we get back?”
“What do you think, Henry?” Emma threw over her shoulder.
He turned from where he had been glumly staring out the window. “Can I get a cheeseburger and fries?”
“Sure.”
“And a chocolate milkshake?” When his mom didn’t answer immediately, he added, “Please? It’ll make me less sad about Norman.”
Killian chuckled lowly as Emma rolled her eyes, muttering, “I’m raising a con artist.”
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Killian mentally kicked himself the whole way back into town. What was he thinking, asking Emma to agree to what was basically a long term commitment? He probably ruined his chance for asking her out on a date, too. He was sure she would think he was coming on too strong, if he did.
At least she agreed to have lunch with him. Hopefully, she would also allow him to continue calling her. Those phone calls and the texts they shared were always the highlight of his week.
As much as he enjoyed his time with Emma, having Henry with them made it even better. Killian hadn’t had a lot of interaction with children, but it was easy being around Emma’s son. He was bright, articulate and funny - very much like his mother. He was also respectful and well-mannered.
On the day they met, Emma confided to him that she was afraid she was making a lot of mistakes as a single mom, who never had a mother of her own to set an example, but he strongly disagreed. She wasn’t perfect - no parent was, but Henry seemed to be well-adjusted and confident, so she was obviously doing many things right.
Killian saw how much Henry loved the dog and wished he could help make the boy’s desire to adopt him come true, which is why he made the offer. He had come to love the furry little rascal, too, and would seriously consider adopting Norman himself. He just didn’t know if he could take the dog with him if he decided to move away from Storybrooke.
He pulled up in front of Granny’s, cut the engine, unbuckled his seatbelt and opened the door, as he heard Emma and Henry do the same. Typical of a young boy, Henry took off running and was already skipping up the steps to the front door by the time Killian reached Emma’s side.
“He’s pretty excited,” Emma explained. “Eating out is kind of a treat because we don’t do it very often.”
“I hope I wasn’t out of line for asking,” Killian said.
“No, not at all. It really perked him up.”
Killian halted at the bottom of the steps, causing Emma to stop and look at him. “I also hope I didn’t upset you by making the offer to watch Norman.”
“You didn’t,” she assured him. “I’m definitely going to think about it. I really miss having a dog around, too. I just have to weigh all the pros and cons.”
He smiled and nodded his understanding, then bounded up the steps to open the door. Henry was at the counter talking animatedly to Ruby, who looked up and gaped at Emma in surprise.
“Hey, girl! I didn’t realize you knew the very handsome new guy in town!”
Killian could feel his ears turning red, when Emma glanced at him before replying. “Hi, Ruby. Actually, we met by accident a couple of weeks ago.”
“By accident, huh? Did you hit him with your car or something?”
“Nothing like that. We were both renting the same dog at the animal shelter.”
“Was seeing him today another accident?”
Emma put her hands on her hips. “Not that it’s any of your business, but no. It was planned this time.”
Killian wasn’t sure he had ever seen such a wide grin on the waitress’s face. They all gave Ruby their drink order, then Emma ushered Henry to a booth and Killian slid in across from them.
“Are you getting lasagna?” she asked.
“I think I’m going to try the grilled cheese and onion rings. Someone recommended them to me,” he smirked.
“Very intelligent person,” Emma grinned.
“Aye, that she is.”
Ruby arrived at their table with their drinks and Henry’s milkshake. She gave Emma and Killian another broad smile when she took down their identical orders. “His and hers grilled cheeses, huh? Maybe there’s some truth to the saying that couples begin to eat alike.”
Emma sighed and rolled her eyes. “I think the saying is that couples start to look alike, and we aren’t a couple. We’re just friends.”
“I see,” Ruby said, glancing at Henry, who was busy spooning the thick milkshake into his mouth. “Well, they do say there are benefits to being friends.” She gave them an exaggerated wink, then turned and made her way to the kitchen.
“Ruby isn’t exactly the epitome of subtlety,” Emma said, a blush filling her cheeks with color.
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“It was nice of Killian to take us to Granny’s today,” Henry said, as he was climbing into bed that night.
“Yes, it was. I was very proud of you for remembering to thank him without needing a reminder.”
“Thanks for letting me get a milkshake, even if it didn’t make me stop feeling sad about not being able to adopt Norman.”
Emma tucked the covers around his shoulders. “I know, but try not to think about it.”
“I can’t,” Henry pouted. “He’s probably crying himself to sleep tonight.”
“I think he’s probably going to sleep remembering all of the fun we had today.”
Henry stubbornly shook his head. “Nuh-uh. He’s wondering why we didn’t bring him home with us.”
“Henry,” Emma sighed, “I know you’re sad, but we just can’t…”
“I know,” he interrupted, “you keep saying it wouldn’t be fair for him to be alone all day, but he’s already alone at the shelter all day, except for Mr. Nolan, and at night, there’s nobody there at all.”
“There’s other dogs and cats…”
“That’s not the same. They’re all in cages by themselves. If we adopted him, he could sleep on my bed, like Ernie did.”
Knowing she was going around in circles with him, Emma reached over and picked up the book from his nightstand. “How about if you say your prayers after I read to you tonight?”
Heaving a dramatic sigh, he said, “Fine, but it’s not gonna make me forget about Norman.”
After reading to him for fifteen minutes, hearing his prayers - which mentioned Norman and Killian several times - and kissing him goodnight, she left his room. Heading into her own bedroom, she went through her nightly routine automatically, lost in thought.
Once she was in her pajamas, free of make-up and teeth brushed, she peeked in on her son to find him sound asleep. She made sure the front door was deadbolted, turned off the lights in the kitchen and living room and went back into her room. Sitting on the edge of the bed, she stared at the phone in her hand, mind racing.
Finally, she pulled up Killian’s contact and hit the call button.
She was almost ready to hang up after it rang four times, not wanting it to go to voicemail, when he answered. “Hello, Swan. I wasn’t expecting to talk to you again so soon.”
“I hope I’m not calling too late.”
“Not at all. What’s on your mind?”
“Henry was still upset about Norman before he went to sleep. I feel like I’m being selfish by not allowing him to get a dog.”
“Why do you feel that way?”
“Because one of my excuses is that a dog is a lot of work and would need training, which it would. I’m making it seem like all the work would fall on me. Now, I know Henry is only eight, but I think he’s pretty responsible for his age.”
“From what I’ve seen, I would agree with that,” Killian cut in.
“Thank you. Anyway, I think he would be able to help train and take care of the dog, so that excuse is out the window. The other big concern I had is that the dog would have to be home by himself all day, which brings me to the reason I’m calling. I’ve been seriously considering your offer, if it’s still on the table.”
“It is.”
“Are you sure that’s not asking too much of you? I mean, you’re home during the day, but you’re working. How would you be able to take care of him?”
“I’ve had him here with me a few times already and he makes himself right at home. He’s housebroken and doesn’t demand too much attention. If he starts getting restless, I take him outside and play with him for a while. That works with my schedule because I have to take breaks now and then, when I’ve been staring at the computer screen for too long.”
She blew out a long breath. “What if it turns out to be too big of a commitment? We’ve spent some time together and have done a lot of talking to get to know each other, but we’re still basically strangers.”
“Well actually…” Killian began, then paused for several moments before continuing, “I was hoping to have an opportunity to ask you something today, but the right moment never presented itself.”
Emma’s heart began to beat faster in anticipation of what she suspected he might ask. “What did you want to ask?”
“Would you, um…would you consider going out with me?”
Standing up to pace back and forth between her bed and dresser, she chewed her lip in contemplation. She could literally count how many dates she’d had since Henry’s birth on one hand. She only went on those dates to appease Ruby, who was convinced Emma’s Mr. Right was out there somewhere, but she hadn’t been attracted to any of the men.
She couldn’t say the same about Killian. From the time she laid eyes on him, she felt an attraction that only got stronger the more she got to know him. He seemed to be the total package - kind, intelligent, considerate, and insanely hot.
“What happens if we adopt Norman, then go out with each other and realize we’re not compatible?”
“If you adopt him, I would keep my commitment to help take care of him, even if we decide dating doesn’t work for us. You have my word, Emma.”
She came to a halt at the end of her bed and turned to face the mirror above her dresser. For eight years, Henry had been her number one priority and always would be, but maybe it was time for her to do something for herself. Could that something be going out with Killian Jones?
She was so deep in thought, she didn’t realize how long she had been standing there considering her answer. When Killian finally spoke, his quiet voice startled her. “What do you say, Swan?”
“Yes, Killian. I will go out with you.”
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#pet for rent#chapter update#chapter 2#jrob64#art by jrob64#csff#cs fluff#cs smut#CS modern AU#Captain cobra#ouat Captain Swan fanfic
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Dispatch from the Palestinian Youth Movement
“The foremost demand to anyone inside the West, inside the imperial core, is to oppose the genocidal drumbeat waged by Zionist and Western leaders alike. The Palestinian people of Gaza have asked for the bombing campaign to stop, the blockade to end once and for all, and for humanitarian aid to enter. But also and more broadly, what we are asking those who wish to be in solidarity within the West is threefold. First, struggle through organizations and your workplaces and your communities and in the streets to demand an end to both the current genocidal campaign and for an end to the entire system of settler colonialism that has strangled Palestine for the last century. Second, go on the offensive: demand sanctions against Zionism; no more weapons, no more money, no more cultural or institutional cover. We want the total anti-normalization of a Zionism that has once again shown its face to the world. Finally, understand Palestinian resistance as fundamentally just and as a means of survival for our people; it will not stop in the weeks and months to come, and you must be prepared not to waver again.
The Western governmental response has been military and economic carte blanche and material support. These nations have withdrawn much of their foreign aid to the Palestinian people at a moment of utter crisis; leaked documents suggest that the US State Department has instructed its bureaucrats to avoid issuing calls for de-escalation or ceasefire. Secretary Blinken visiting the Philadelphia-born prime minister of the Zionist entity while he is initiating genocide of Palestinians is an affirmation of total US government support and a guarantee of intelligence and military resources to be placed at the Zionists’ disposal. EU leaders, too, have embraced the death merchants of the “Second Nakba” in a lurid display of global settler phantasmagoria. Students and activists are being rounded up from the streets and campuses for their brave defenses of the Palestinian resistance. Germany is leading mass arrest campaigns and seeking to ban the Palestinian prisoners’ movement from their country; England and France are seeking to ban symbols and expressions of Palestinian solidarity. Your voices and your bodies are needed now.”
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casually leans on wall and hands you a microphone. how was the spiderverse experience i want all the deets (ive already watched it dw about spoilers👍🏾)
Ohhhh Strap in we're gonna be here for a while (Imma do this in point form for this, because so many thoughts, no energy for real paragraphs
Okay the animation. THE ANIMATION MEDIUMS. So many cool methods. I loved the colour changes in Gwen's universe. HOBIE'S ENTIRE THING, THE WAY HE'S ANIMATED OMG
Mumbattan is such a cool city, I love mashing irl cities to make one cool megacity so much it's such a lil fave worldbuilding thing of mine
Pavitr is so great, I love him, idek how to talk about him I just like him a lot. Him and his gf make such a cute pair too!
Also him saying "I don't use product, just coconut oil, prayer, and good genetics". I love him
The chai tea scene. God he's so great
THe character design is amazing and sososososo cool!! I love that we see the characters change (Gwen's hair growing longer and pinker, Miles' growth spurt, Peter B.'s bathrobe, MAYDAY's LIL SPIDER HAT THAT MJ PROLLY MADE FOR HER).
I love Pravitr's costume glowup. Thank you to whoever arranged for that.
Also, Hobie??? His lace coded boots?? His locs??? HIS FUCKING PIERCINGSSS??? HOW HE COMPARED A FUCKING VOID TO CAPITALISM??? Him taking a liking to Mayday, and straight up SHOWING MILES HOW TO GET OUT OF THE FORCE FIELD WITH A LIL SMIRK?!!! I need him. Need his gender. I love his anarchist ass.
His design really calls back to the punk scene in England, and I love the way he reminds me of old newspapers
Speaking of Hobie, holy shit that guy was flirting with Miles. I know what you are (pls Hobie do u like enbies?)
"I hate the AM, I hate the PM (prime minister probably, idk for sure) AND I HATE LABELS" I love you
Daniel Kaluuya, thank you for your service.
Also Hobie and Gwen make such a funny friendship. But I don't ship them.
The themes of growing up, and Miles' parents being worried about Miles and the people he's with...I nearly cried in the theatre, and I don't normally cry during stuff.
You can just tell that black people were making the big decisions for this movie. Aaron and Rio asking Miles why he took the braids out. Jeff and Rio being like "On time means 5 minutes early", I felt so at home watching this movie. I'm not even from Brooklyn but I just felt so at home at all the interactions Miles had with his neighbors. Even the random storeowner.
Like ppl were speaking aave, using patois, Hobie's accent. And none of that was played for laughs (except for Hobie's lingo but that's a little different bc he's British)
I love how Miles' Ganke is so different from Peter Parker's Ganke. It's such a fun detail how Miles' Ganke was like "I'm not gonna be your guy in the chair".
I love that despite the general "Canon" for Spider Man, there are some differences! I love those intricate details!
And the way the lady in the office was so hasty to force the narrative of them "struggling" when that really wasn't the case? Hit real close to home. I just love the Davis-Morales family
I love the way that the Spot isn't like a general "mildly bad" villain like I originally assumed. I really thought he'd be kind of a "setup" villain, or something that they'd have to clean up and THEN Miles would take care of Miguel and them.
I especially love the way that The Spot is someone from the first movie, who we don't even know until his backstory is brought up.
His voice is also perfect too. He sounds like a complete loser.
Miguel O'Hara. Meet me outside, I just wanna talk
No For real though, he talks a lot of shit about Miles being "The Original anomaly" when his ass needs to inject himself with some kinda spider-fluid to maintain his powers??? Mind you, he tried to force himself into a reality that wasn't his.
This guy is just an A-class hater. What do you have against Miles, honestly???
On the subject of the Spider Verse I think it's so cool how there were so many callbacks to the original canon of Spiderman! I loved seeing the og live action Spider Men in the film too!
And the easter eggs! I couldn't keep up with them all!
Also, wtf was Childish Gambino there. I mean I'm not mad, I actually found Miles' staring at him really funny
I love Issa Rae's voice! But Jessica, queen, please don't fight, you is PREGNANT
Also idk why but for some reason I thought Jessica and Miguel were married in the beginning. Not completely sure.
Gwen being like "Can you adopt me?" when first meeting Jessica...She's so real
Also Gwen is so sososososo so so trans. It's so great
THE ENDING FUCKING DESTROYED ME ARE YOU KIDDING???? 42-Miles being the Prowler?? I'M NOT OKAY BUT I'M SO EXCITED to see what happens!!
But in all seriousness, all the feelings in the movie talked about and the the things left unresolved for the next movie is just. You can tell this was such a labour of love and all the animators were so happy and excited to work on it. I cannot wait for Beyond the Spider Verse!! I'm still buzzing!!
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By: Daniel Martin
Published: Apr 8, 2024
Children who believe they are transgender may actually have mental health issues, a landmark report is set to find this week.
It is expected to advise that children should not be rushed onto a path to change gender, and that they receive counselling that addresses the mental health issues they may have rather than being put on drugs.
Dr Hillary Cass, a paediatrician, will on Wednesday unveil her long-awaited review into how transgender children are supported and the medical treatment they receive.
It comes amid concern that children are being allowed to change gender in school without their parents’ knowledge or consent, and after the routine prescription of puberty blockers was banned by NHS England.
The Telegraph understands that the report will find that children who think they are trans disproportionately have mental health issues stemming from a difficult family situation or having suffered from abuse. They are also more likely to be neurodiverse.
Counselling to tackle issues holistically
It is expected to suggest that these children need counselling to tackle these issues holistically, rather than them automatically being put on a path to change gender.
The report is expected to warn that it is wrong to assume it is in the best interest of children who think they are trans to change gender, and urge extreme caution over the use of drugs such as puberty blockers and cross-sex hormones to facilitate this, even once someone is over 18 years old.
The review is also said to express concern about a significant rise in the number of young girls wanting to become boys, and say this group needs more support.
On Monday, Downing Street said the Government would act on the basis of the report to ensure children and adolescents were kept safe.
“We have talked about the importance of children and adolescent safety and wellbeing being paramount,” the Prime Minister’s spokesman said.
“That is part of previous work such as the NHS announcement to end the routine prescription of puberty blockers, it is behind our robust and clear guidance to schools. It is categorical that social transitioning is not a neutral act and no one should be forced to use preferred pronouns or accept contested beliefs as fact.
“We’ve also said there’s more to do in this area and we will look at the review when it’s published.”
He added: “The Government has taken a number of steps in this area, recognising the effect that social transitioning can have on children and adolescents, and we’ve made clear that single sex spaces must be protected.”
The interim Cass report in 2022 said that children being allowed to socially transition in schools – changing their name and pronouns, and being allowed to use the lavatories and changing rooms of the gender they identify as – was “not a neutral act”.
It also raised concerns about the NHS’s gender identity and development service at the Tavistock and Portman NHS trust in London.
Children who think they are trans may have other problems
The interim review led NHS England to close Tavistock service and replace it with regional centres that take a more “holistic” approach to treatment and look at other mental health or medical issues they may have.
Dr Cass’s final report is expected to conclude that there could be many complex reasons a child may think they are in the wrong gender.
It is believed to advise therapists that children presenting as trans may have had other complex issues such as a difficult family situation, having suffered from abuse, or having been exposed to pornography too early.
For this reason, cases need to be judged holistically.
The review is also believed to conclude that if you allow a very young child to socially transition they are more likely to grow up to have a fixed trans identity later in life, rather than their gender distress being resolved by other means.
Dr Cass’s report is understood to say that prepubescent children should not be put on the same “pathway” as older adolescents who wish to identify as the opposite gender.
‘Psychological repercussions’
It is expected to warn that children may experience “psychological” repercussions as a result of being allowed to change their name and pronoun to the gender of their choice.
Last month, the NHS announced an immediate ban on prescribing puberty blockers to under-18s unless they are part of a clinical trial. Ministers said the “landmark decision” was in children’s “best interests” and would help to ensure youngsters who feel their gender is not the same as their sex are treated using medical evidence.
However, campaigners have warned of a loophole, as there is nothing to stop transgender children getting hold of puberty blockers from private clinics.
In 2021-22, the NHS reported more than 5,000 referrals to Tavistock, up from just under 250 who were questioning their gender a decade earlier.
#Daniel Martin#Hilary Cass#Dr. Hilary Cass#Cass report#medical scandal#medical corruption#medical malpractice#mental health#mental health issues#wrong sex hormones#cross sex hormones#puberty blockers#gender thalidomide#gender lobotomy#gender affirming care#gender affirming healthcare#gender affirmation#queer theory#gender identity ideology#gender ideology#intersectional feminism#religion is a mental illness
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The Princess & the Football Player | Chapter 4
Author’s note: The towel moment is inspired on something that actually happened years ago with the mother of Spain’s current King 😂
Previous chapter | Next chapter
Masterlist
"Hello, you."
"Hello, Sophie."
"How is Canada treating you?"
"So far so good. Jet lag hasn't hit yet" I say, sitting on my bed.
"You'll probably won't have jet lag. It's like your super power, it never affects you."
"I beg to differ."
"Yeah, yeah, yeah" Sophie says, rolling her eyes. "Are you excited about England's game? About watching him play?" she asks, moving her eyebrows up and down.
"I actually am, yes."
"Are you going to wear his shirt?"
"Almost."
"Almost? What does that mean?"
"When I met him before they traveled, they gave me my own England shirt with the number I used to play with. And guess who also wears that number..."
"No!"
"Yep."
"Ellie, that's a sign! You are destined!"
"Mum and dad would say it's just a coincidence."
"Mum and dad know nothing. Have they told you that they are inviting over some friends to watch the game?"
"What? They don't like football!"
"I know" she shrugs. "But since it is the first game of the World Cup..."
"Please don't let dad say anything stupid. Like that I'm watching my crush or something like that."
"I won't, I promise. I'm still shocked he noticed that you fancy Declan, tho."
"So am I" I sigh. "Anyway, they are knocking on my door, I must go."
"Somewhere interesting?"
"Just lunch with some boring people. Will call you tomorrow, ok?"
"Ok. Love you, sis."
"Love you too" I say, hanging up.
━━━━━━❃━━━━━━
"Nervous about the game, ma'am?" my bodyguard David asks.
"A bit, yes" I say as I sit down, my eyes scanning the pitch, looking for him. For Declan.
"This should be an easy game, England has a better team."
"You never know" I reply, still looking for him. Where is he? "Has there been any change on the line up?"
"No, ma'am. Why?"
"I'm... Oh, nevermind" I say when I finally spot him.
"Any favourite player, your Royal Highness?" a woman asks, sitting next to me.
"Uh?"
"You seemed to be smiling at the pitch."
"No, no" I reply, feeling my cheeks getting warm. "I'm just excited about the game. And a bit nervous too."
"Same" she says. "It's the first time my country makes it to a World Cup."
"Oh, I'm so sorry, I hadn't recognised you or..."
"It's ok, ma'am" she smiles. "And how not to be distracted when there are 22 handsome men in front of you."
"We don't have 11 handsome men on our line up, tho" I say, making her laugh, her reaction helping me relax a bit.
━━━━━━❃━━━━━━
"I'm sorry about your debut."
"Oh, don't be. You just scored four goals, I was expecting seven" Dorothea laughs. That's the name of the woman who sat next to me. Dorothea, the Prime Minister of our rival tonight.
"Thank you for the company. I really enjoyed watching the game with you."
"Likewise" she says. "It is never easy to be in a public place on your own, being the one representing your country, and having all eyes on you."
"It is not, no" I smile. I was nervous about that, yes. I always am. I worry about the cameras catching me doing something I shouldn't, about the media taking something out of context... But I must admit I was also nervous because of Declan. I wanted him to do good, to not get injured. Is it too weird that I felt like that for an almost stranger?
"It's time, ma'am" David says.
"Oh, I better go. I'm meeting the boys in the changing room."
"Lucky you" Dorothea smirks. "Is that lunch date still happening?"
"Definitely. I'll text you to confirm it."
"Perfect. It was a pleasure meeting you, ma'am."
"You too."
━━━━━━❃━━━━━━
"Your Royal Highness" Kane says. "Please come in."
"Thank you. And congratulations, everyone" I reply, looking around the changing room. And yes, you guessed it. I am looking for Declan.
"Did you enjoy the game?"
"I did. Though I must confess I was a bit nervous until you scored that first goal" I chuckle.
"I think we all were. But once that ball went in, everything flowed" Kane says.
After having a chat with most players and congratulating them for the win, it's time to take a photo, and Declan still is nowhere to be found.
"Has anyone seen Deccers?" Mount asks.
"He came in late and I think he is still in the shower" Saka says. And as those words leave his mouth, Declan shows up in the changing room. He's only wearing a towel that hangs loosely on his hips, some bits of wet hair falling on his forehead. Oh to be able to run my hands through it, to have him that close to me while he is barely wearing anything...
"Shit" he says when he sees me, his face turning even more red than it already was. "I'm so sorry, I didn't know..."
"Go put some clothes on, Declan" Kane says while shaking his head, the rest of their teammates trying not to laugh.
"Yes, sure, one minute."
"I'm so sorry about that, ma'am" he says once Declan has disappeared to get changed.
"It's ok, don’t worry" I say with a nervous laugh, still trying to process what just happened. That I've had Declan just a few feet away from me, looking glorious and almost naked.
━━━━━━❃━━━━━━
"Perfect!" the photographer says once he's taken a few photos. "Thank you, everyone."
"Thank you for coming and for your support, ma'am" Kane says.
"Of course" I reply. "Good luck on the next game."
"Thank you."
"Your Royal Highness!" someone says behind me as I leave the changing room. "Wait a minute, please."
"Oh, hello" I say, turning to look at Declan.
"I'm so sorry about what happened earlier. I didn't know you were here, I thought you'll come later, and I just..." he says while running a hand through his hair, making me feel... Things. Let's leave it there. "Are you ok?"
"Uh?"
"You seem... I don't know. Is it because of what happened? I made you uncomfortable, didn't I?"
"Oh no. No, no, no. It was the total opposite."
"The opposite of uncomfortable?" he asks while trying to hide a smirk, those gorgeous blue eyes of his fixed on me.
"I mean... I..." Shit. Shit, shit, shit. "You don't have to apologize for anything. It could happen to anyone."
"Ok" he says, his smirk now on full display. "Will you be at our next game?"
"That's the plan, yes."
"If you come to the changing room again, I'll try not to be almost naked" he chuckles.
"Better you than others." Did I say that? Why? Oh... my God. "And I should probably get going."
"Yes, of course" he says, the smirk not leaving this face. "It was nice seeing you again, Eleanor."
"You too. Good luck on the next game, Declan."
"Thank you, Eleanor" he replies, neither of us moving from where we are stading, our eyes fixed on the other’s.
"Ma'am?" David calls behind me. “It’s time to go.”
"Yes, sorry" I say, trying to stop smiling like an idiot and make my body move. “Goodbye, Declan.”
“Goodbye Elea... I mean, ma’am” he replies before walking into the changing room, murmuring something to himself. Probably that calling me by my given name wasn’t appropiate. But I didn’t care. I don’t care. He made it sound so good... Eleanor.
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Francis Kinloch in Müller's letters to his family
These extracts are from Johannes von Müller: Sämmtliche Werke, volume 7 (1810).
My translations here, original German and French transcriptions below the cut. I have added some paragraph breaks for legibility.
From the introductory Lebensgeschichte, von ihm selbst beschrieben (Biography, as described by himself)
Meanwhile, at the home of Charles Bonnet, for whom and whose wife he [Müller] developed the tender attachment of a son and who was treated as such by them, he met a young man from South Carolina, Francis Kinloch. He had an extraordinary thirst for knowledge, a great fire, many fine qualities and very pleasant morals.
They determined a plan to live together; every day, for several hours in the morning, they would study Tacitus and Montesquieu, or any other authors found worthy enough to stand beside them, and in the rest of the time, the one friend would read Blackstone and other English or American books, and the other would study Swiss documents, and on top of that, between spending time in the company of Bonnet and others, they would alternate between Roman, French and English classics.
Tronchin was too much Müller’s friend to keep him from this plan, and even more pleased was Kinloch’s guardian, Thomas Boone - the former governor of South Carolina, and at the time the director of the large London Custom-house, a man in whom, in thirty years of acquaintance, Müller never found fault, though he always found exemplary reason, firmness and generosity.
The friends lived for a year and a half in a modest country house on the hill of Chambeisy, surrounded by the highest mountains in the old world, the majesty of Lac Leman*, the incomparable culture of the shore, enjoying the masterworks of the human spirit, in daily association with Bonnet, but also with Voltaire, and brought together for a while with Mr Alleyne Fitzherbert, who was already developing the talents with which he later shone as Lord St Helens. After that, the storms of the North American revolution tore them apart.
*Also known as Lake Geneva.
Undated, 1775, Müller to his sister
After this little introduction, I ask you to take a map of the Geneva region to hand. Here, on the Swiss side of the lake on the border of Geneva on French land, lies the town of Chambesis – on a hill that overlooks the lake, all of the estates, the entire republic and the glaciers. Now take the map of America. Here is Charlestown, the capital of Carolina. And here on the third map is Scotland; in the middle of which lives an ancient family called Kinloch; one of these left Europe at the time of the civil war of the Stuart kings, and found with many others there a beautiful country and freedom. One of these Kinlochs now commands 1200 negroes, and is a gentleman of great standing and much greater spirit and character; he is twenty years old.
He came to Geneva; in the last 5 to 6 months, we have seen each other for 23 hours each day and read the most profound writers together. Through this, we got to know and love each other’s characters.
Mr Kinloch has rented a small country house with six rooms in Chambesis, and is paying 12 new Louis d’or a month for this and table, breakfast and supper, for the next five summer months. In this solitude, he wants to study. He has such a noble character that he is highly estimated by everyone. Lord North, the prime minister of the king of England, is very fond of him; K risked his life for his son and saved him from mortal danger.
He has invited me to move in with him, and to spend this summer in the lap of scholarship and friendship. We would read and study together, occasionally go into the mountains, occasionally to Pays de Vaud. [...] And [Tronchin*], who loves me, and wants to see and promote my happiness, gave his permission, and his two children will spend this half of the year in a boarding house in the city and learn there. Thus, Mr Tronchin and they and I and Nassau and Bonnet and Kinloch are all content, and I will still see Mr Tronchin at Bessinge once every eight days.
*Müller was employed as a tutor to Tronchin’s two young children at the time.
Undated, 1775, Tronchin to Müller’s father
Have no concern, sir, about your son; everybody loves him, he is lively and good, his conduct has always been very wise, and all of our men of letters would vouch for him. The choice that he makes, to go and live with Mr Kinlock [sic] shall not, I hope, be without utility for him. He is a young man who has lived here for a long time, and who is generally and singularly esteemed both by his compatriots and by the Genevese, whether for his morals or for his character. The desire that he has to benefit from your son’s knowledge must be a guarantee of what I have told you.
From the introductory Lebensgeschichte, von ihm selbst beschrieben (biography, as described by himself)
Indeß lernte Müller bei Karl Bonnet, für den und dessen Gemahlin er die zärtliche Anhänglichkeit eines Sohnes faßte, und von welchen er ganz wie ein solcher behandelt wurde, einen Jüngling aus Süd - Carolina, Francis Kinloch, kennen. Dieser hatte eine ungemeine Wißbegier, viel Feuer, viele Güte und sehr angenehme Sitten. Es entstand ein Plan des Beisammenlebens; täglich sollten in ein paar Morgenstunden Tacitus und Montesquieu, und wenn etwa noch einer würdig erfunden würde neben diesen zu stehen, in den übrigen von dem einen Freunde Blackstone und andere englische oder amerikanische Bücher, von dem andern die schweizerischen Urkunden studiert, und hierauf zwischen Bonnets und anderer Gesellschaft, und Durchlesung römischer, französischer und englischer Klassiker abgewechselt werden. Zu sehr war Tronchin Müller's Freund, um ihn hievon abzuhalten, und noch mehr freute sich Kinloch's Vormund, Thomas Boone, gewesener Gouverneur von Süd- Carolina, noch jetzt Director des großen Londner Custom-house's, ein Mann, an welchem in dreißigjährigem Verhältniß Müller nie einen Fehler, wohl aber vortreflichen Verstand, Festigkeit und Edelmuth immer gleich gefunden hat. Auf dem Hügel von Chambeisy in einem bescheidenen Landhause, dem aber die höchsten Gebürge der alten Welt, die Pracht des lemanischen Sees, die unvergleichliche Cultur der Ufer entgegenlagen, im Genuß der Meisterstücke des menschlichen Geistes, im tåglichen Umgange Bonnets, auch mit Voltaire, und eine Zeitlang vereiniget mit Herrn Alleyne Fitzherbert, welcher die Talente schon entwickelte, durch welche er nach diesem als Lord St. Helens in den größten Geschäften geglänzt, so lebten die Freunde bei anderthalb Jahre. Hierauf rissen die Stürme der nordamerikanischen Revolution sie auseinander.
Undated, 1775, Müller to his sister
Nach dieser kleinen Einleitung bitte ich dich, eine Karte vom Genfergebiet zur Hand zu nehmen. Hier auf der Schweizerseite des Sees an den Genfergränzen auf französischem Boden liegt das Dorf Chambesis, auf einer Höhe, welche den See, alle Landgüter, die ganze Republik und die Eisberge übersieht. Nun nimm die Karte von Amerika. Hier ist Charlestown, die Hauptstadt von Karolina. Und hier auf der dritten Karte ist Scotland; in der Mitte desselben wohnt ein altes Geschlecht, genannt Kinloch; einer aus demselben verließ Europa zur Zeit der innerlichen Kriege der Könige Stuart, und fand mit vielen andern daselbst ein schönes Land und die Freiheit. Einer von diesen Kinlochs gebeut nun 1200 Négern, und ist ein Herr von Stand und noch weit größerm Geist und Charakter; er ist zwanzig Jahre alt. Er kam nach Genf; letzte 5—6 Monate haben wir uns alle Tage 23 Stunden gesehen und mit einander die tiefsinnigsten Schriftsteller gelesen. Hiedurch haben wir einer des andern Charakter kennen gelernt und lieb gewonnen. Herr Kinloch hat in Chambesis ein kleines Landhaus mit sechs Zimmern gemiethet, und zahlt hiefür und Tafel, Morgens und Abendessen, künftige fünf Sommermonate hindurch monatlich 12 neue Louis d'ors. In dieser Einsamkeit will er studieren. Er hat einen so edlen Charakter, daß er von jedermann hochgeschätzt wird. Er ist sehr beliebt bei Lord North, erstem Staatsminister des Königs von England; dessen Sohn hat K. einst aus Todesgefahr gerettet und sein eignes Leben für ihn gewagt. Er hat mich eingeladen zu ihm zu ziehen, und diesen Sommer im Schooß der Wissenschaften und der Freundschaft zuzubringen. Wir würden mit einander lesen und studieren, bisweilen in die Berge gehen, bisweilen ins Pays de Vaud. [...] Und [Tronchin], welcher mich liebt und mein Glück gern sieht und befördert, gab seinen Willen, und seine zwei Kinder werden dies halbe Jahr in einer Pension in der Stadt bleiben und daselbst lernen. So daß also Herr Tronchin und sie und ich und Nassau und Bonnet und Kinloch, wir alle zusammen zufrieden sind, und ich Herrn Tronchin dennoch alle acht Tage einmal zu Bessinge sehe.
Undated, 1775, Tronchin to Müller’s father
Ne soyez, Monsieur, d'ailleurs point en peine de Mr. Votre fils; tout le monde l'aime, il est vif et bon, sa conduite a toujours été très sage, et tous nos gens de lettres en font le plus grand cas. Le parti qu'il prend, d'aller vivre avec Mr. Kinlock ne sera pas, j'espère, sans utilité pour lui. C'est un jeune homme qui demeure ici depuis long tems, et qui y est généralement et singulièrement estimé tant par ses compatriotes que par les Genevois, soit pour ses moeurs, soit pour son caractère. Le désir qu'il a de profiter des lumières de Mr. Votre fils, Vous doit être un garant de ce que je Vous dis.
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just listened to the pod and although i agree the william doesn’t HATE women’s football, a lot of your arguments relied on “whataboutism”…. like sure the late queen or charles didn’t go to support their patron sports team, or the prime minister didn’t go either, but that doesn’t absolve william. you downplay the importance of his attendance but also stated he’s the reason you even know about some female players. but anyway, i also think he should definitely step down from the FA presidency - it involves too much passion for a “neutral” figure head
I can understand why you've interpreted it that way - to the point where I already had most of this answer prepared in my drafts - but it's inaccurate. I can only speak for the things I said in that episode so if you have a problem with something Grace said you can talk to her (she'd be happy to argue with you and tbh I think it's pretty telling about your view that you chose me to message and not Grace...) but that segment of the episode has two parts:
Why I don't think it's a big deal William didn't go and
Why I'm upset by the general narrative from the public and press
There were only two reasons I didn't think it was a big deal that William didn't go. I can show you my notes if you refuse to believe me.
The work he does for the England WNT and the men's national team is not drastically different now. It's not the same situation as it was in 2022 when William had done absolutely fuck all for women's sport and we both criticised him extensively. The players themselves have spoken repeatedly about the support and engagement they feel from him and
It's Australia. It's 10,000 fucking miles away. Spending tax payer money (from all four nations of the UK) to send a leader in climate change to Australia for what is effectively 5 minutes of work celebrating England is frankly absurd and I genuinely cannot fathom why anyone ever thought he'd go. Especially as it risks inflaming tensions given no one has been to Australia since the change of reign. If you listen back - I don't know, maybe you skipped over this bit, maybe you chose to disregard it - I clearly state that the problem wasn't that William didn't go to Australia it was that he didn't prepare for the fact he wasn't going to Australia. We both stated that he should have done more to support the team but he should have done it from home.
So if you can tell me where the whataboutism is there that would be grand as those were the only two arguments I made.
The rest was about the general narrative - as I said in the episode - and has no impact on my standpoint on William's decision in any way. It wasn't about William at all from my perspective, and what I said was entirely about the undercurrent of bigotry in the criticism of William. I am a Scottish woman and I don't think it's wrong that I find it upsetting when people believe English women matter more than anyone else. See the disparity in the reaction to William not going to Australia vs the reaction when Welsh people spoke about his lack of support for their team. At least he actually wanted the English women to win!! Whether you care or not, it is a problem that William got crucified for not going to Australia, and yet Welsh or Scottish people (and tons of other groups) get crucified for just politely asking for him not to want us to lose. In the course of a conversation about football and the public reaction to inequality in William's support, it is natural that a Scottish woman would mention the fact that the public and the press have shown nothing but bigotry towards us for the entire 17 years William has been President of the FA. It's natural that I would mention that even if William's support for the English women's team could be better, the public and the press treat the English women's team a million times better than they treat the Scottish or Welsh or Australian women's teams. If now isn't a good time to discuss it because it's "whataboutism" but every other day of the year is also not a good time to discuss it because it'll lead to a public hate campaign by the press and the public, when exactly is the right time?
So I don't consider it whataboutism because I was not saying that William's choice was any better or worse as a result of my point. I consider it a related conversation about my personal issues with the fact that people are claiming on social media to be holier than thou because of their standpoint in this while at best deliberately ignoring and at worst actively celebrating other, worse, forms of inequality. If you consider that whataboutism I truly don't care, because I'm right.
#also we very very very clearly stated that the conversation about the queen was in response to people claiming she would have gone#we didn't bring it up at random#ask#dianawonder#prince william#british royal family#on heir#on heir podcast#the fact i'm genuinely scared to post this because of the hate i could get#but no one was afraid to post that william was wrong to not go to australia#tells you everything
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"It is vital that women's voices are heard in the NHS and the privacy, dignity and safety of all patients are protected." -Steve Barclay. Finally a man I can quote without without an eyeroll emoji
Health secretary plans to bring back 'sex-specific language' to NHS
Steve Barclay wants to push back against what he calls "wokery" in the National Health Service, with a source telling Sky News "ideological dogma" is stopping women from being listened to when it comes to their health.
Tuesday 3 October 2023 12:01, UK
Transgender women will be banned from being treated in female hospital wards in England, under new proposals put forward by the health secretary.
In his conference speech, Steve Barclay announced plans to push back against what he called "wokery" in the NHS, saying it had led to women's rights being increasingly sidelined.
The government will consult on making changes to the NHS constitution, which will also include the right to request same-sex intimate care requests.
The health secretary also confirmed sex-specific language would be used when dealing with women's health.
Speaking to party members in Manchester, Mr Barclay said: "We need a common-sense approach to sex and equality issues in the NHS - that is why today I am announcing proposals for clearer rights for patients.
"And I can today confirm that sex-specific language has now been fully restored to online health advice pages about cervical and ovarian cancer and the menopause.
"It is vital that women's voices are heard in the NHS and the privacy, dignity and safety of all patients are protected."
In April, Equalities Minister Kemi Badenoch said the government could ban trans women from entering female-only spaces, and asked parliament's human rights watchdog for its advice to change official wording from just "sex" to "biological sex", which she described as a "technical and contested area of law".
Elsewhere in his speech, Mr Barclay also announced an expansion of NHS training and funding of new technology in the health service.
He also confirmed new medical schools in Worcester, Chester and Uxbridge, as well as an increase in the number of places up and down the country for students wanting to train to be doctors.
However, Labour said the three "new" schools announced already exist, and added that restrictions on the number of government-funded places mean they are only training international students.
Mr Barclay's speech comes with the backdrop of ongoing junior doctor and consultant strikes in England.
They are taking joint action, with Christmas Day levels of cover expected until Wednesday.
It follows two days of strike action at the end of September and coincides with Rishi Sunak's first Conservative Party conference as leader and prime minister.
The Conservatives will be hoping to grapple back control of its conference in Manchester, which has been dominated by leaks regarding the northern phase of HS2 - which Sky News understands will be scrapped in the coming days.
While Number 10 says no decisions have been made, it is thought the section of the high-speed rail project between Birmingham and Manchester will now be shelved.
#UK#National Health Service#england#Steve Barclay is speaking the truth#Women’s health needs it's own terms#Protect women’s spaces#Nothing is stopping TRAs from organizing to get their own wards#TERF Island
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Section 28 & Henry
So I wrote a series before the film was released where we learnt together about things from the book. I’ve been seeing some things about Henry growing up & not necessarily having the queer visibility available to him in the same way Alex did. Someone was writing about Henry at school, or mentioned it in passing - I can’t find the post now - and it reminded me of something that non-UK folk (and even perhaps the younger UK folk) wouldn’t be aware of, but would have been a part of Henry’s schooling if he had been at school, both as book-accurate age but especially as the aged-up film version. (Alex is aged up to 27 so im putting Henry at a similar age.)
This post will talk about the history behind Section 28 & its legacy, and then some personal anecdotes that will contextualise what it might’ve been like for Henry, under the premise of the real world being comparable to the RWRB universe.
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Section 28 was part of a wider Local Government Act, and was enacted in May of 1988 by a Conservative government under Thatcher. ‘The amendment stated that a local authority "shall not intentionally promote homosexuality or publish material with the intention of promoting homosexuality" or "promote the teaching in any maintained school of the acceptability of homosexuality as a pretended family relationship".’ (source) In simple English, this meant that teachers - and anyone on staff - couldn’t talk about or make reference to anything that wasnt cis-heterosexuality, nor could they be openly queer. Student support groups for queer teens also had to either close or self-censor, and many teachers worried that stepping in to stop homophobic bullying would result in censure & so didn’t speak out.
Section 28 was repealed in Scotland in June 2000 and in the rest of the UK in November 2003 (under a Labour Government), but the shadow of it was present for years after - and arguably still to this day to some degree.
It was enacted for a number of reasons, but predominantly due to moral panic resulting from a negative shift in opinion about non-straight sexualities & the AIDs epidemic. Alliances between labour unions & LGBT groups (for example Lesbians & Gays Support the Miners and the National Union of Mineworkers - if you’ve seen Pride, this is the two groups featured there) caused the introduction of a resolution at the Labour Party Conference in 1985 to criminalise discrimination against LGB people. During the election campaign in 1987, then-Prime Minister Thatcher & the Conservative Party ran a smear campaign that suggested the Labour Party wanted to teach young children about explicit queer sex in schools (they didn’t).
The resulting response after the enactment of Section 28 was that of increased homophobia alongside an spike of action by the British gay rights movement. One of the UK’s leading queer groups, Stonewall, emerged from the response to Section 28, and Ian McKellen came out as a gay in 1988, whilst arguing against the legislation. However, as I mentioned previously, the shadow of Section 28 is still felt now. In 2014, 10 years after its full repeal, 29% of secondary school (age 11-17) teachers weren’t certain that they were allowed to teach lessons about LGBT topics. In 2016, it was found that school libraries still had very little queer literature or support from librarians for queer students, and 3 years later there were still British librarians who assumed Section 28 was still law - a full 16 years after full repeal. A 2018 study found that teachers who had worked under Section 28 were still cautious about being openly queer, in contrast to those who were trained as teachers after 2003.
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for context, i am 30 & was schooled in England specifically. i did go to a same-sex high school (secondary school) but i did not go to a private school (as Henry would have, were he real!) so some things will differ but it would not have been better for Henry than my experiences.
On a more personal note, I started school in 1997 and left in 2011. Throughout my schooling - my entire secondary/high school experience was once Section 28 had been repealed - I can count on one hand the number of times I encountered anything that was positive about queer people, and even less if you limit it to being ‘approved’ information. My most common exposure was hearing someone being accused of being attracted to the same sex, usually with slurs, and I use ‘accused’ here intentionally as it was meant to be insulting. There was no-one openly queer in my school - my friend was trans, but we didn’t ever call it that. I just knew from their reaction that their very-gendered birth-name made them uncomfortable & the neutral diminutive was preferred (as an example, Alexandra and Alex - this isn't their name). I don’t know if they knew the word for it then, I certainly didn’t. We didn’t learn about sexuality in PSHE (Personal, Social, Health Education), and we definitely didn’t have openly queer teachers. Straight was the default & the only option.
I talked to my friend about their experience - they’re 22 so Henry’s schooling would fall in between mine & their's in both book & film - and realistically there was not much difference. They were at a mixed-gender school, and had a couple of mentions of ‘gay’ in classes (e.g. one reference to ‘g is for gay’ in an alphabet song) but were also expected to debate if being gay was wrong in RE (religious education). Being queer wasn’t ‘okay’ but it wasn’t necessarily inherently terrible in the way my experience implied it to be. They also didn’t have any lgbt/queer clubs in school.
Another friend a similar age to myself had no positive mention of queer sexuality until they were at university, but instead was surrounded by constant slurs, was accused of being a lesbian, and heared queer (as a slur) & the f-slur thrown around on an almost hourly basis, with teachers ignoring it.
From my understanding & perspective, Henry would have had a more repressive existence than our experiences. Private all-boys boarding school, especially Eton (the school of choice for the male British royals!), would have had much more negativity surrounding being gay, and I doubt the repeal of Section 28 had much impact in such a conservative setting like that. There are open letters from former students of Eton, some of which lay out their (predominantly negative) experience with being queer at school. I've linked them below.
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Sources/Additional Reading:
Wikipedia - Section 28
BBC - Section 28: What was it and how did it affect LGBT+ people?
Tribune - The Long Shadow of Section 28
Attitude - How Section 28’s painful legacy is still being felt three decades on - cw for homophobic violence, addiction, suicide
Metro - Section 28 was repealed 15 years ago but I can’t forget the impact it had on me so easily - cw for homophobic violence, mention of grooming, suicide & addiction
Guardian - Section 28 protesters 30 years on: ‘We were arrested and put in a cell up by Big Ben’
LSE - Section 28, three decades on: the legacy of a homophobic law through the LSE Library’s collections
Daily Beast - I Was Eton’s Only Out Schoolboy
Pink News (in response to the above) - Comment: Yes, there is homophobia at Eton
Huffington Post (similar as above, more information/context) - Former Eton Student Jamie Jackson's Open Letter Proves There IS Homophobia At The College
#a series of learning about things that are referenced in the book#i probably should have a better tag#a series of learning#rwrb#rwrb movie#rwrb henry#red white & royal blue#elio’s#and we wonder why i didn’t realise my queerness until the point i did. hmm i wonder (/s)#long post
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A princess lost to the sands of time.
This post is purely indulgent about my whole-cloth original character, Cecily-Anne Plantagenet, daughter of Richard, Duke of Gloucester, and Anne Neville, Duchess of Gloucester.
(Cecily-Anne, played by Kate Beckinsale in Cold Comfort Farm)
Born in 1473, the twin of Edward of Middleham, Cecily's early childhood was a remarkably undisturbed and peaceful one. She grew up in Middleham for a large portion of her childhood, and was raised similar to her mother, Anne Neville, was. Baptised a few days after her birth for her nameday, She was christened Cecily-Anne, for her maternal and paternal grandmothers, Cecily Neville, Duchess of York, and Anne for Anne's own mother of Anne Beauchamp.
Cecily-Anne became especially close to her half sister Kathryn, who was roughly a year or two her senior, and their similarities in dress and style proved sometimes difficult for their head nursemaid, Mistress Burgh, to figure out who was who!
When Richard took the throne in 1483, things changed rapidly. Unlike Edward, who did not attend the coronation, Cecily did, and sat amongst the audience. Due to the fact that the Princess of Wales is only a marital title, she was simply known formally as Princess Cecily-Anne.
Edward's death in early 1484 rocked the Gloucester household to its core, and Cecily, like her mother, grew ill with grief, which only worsened with the death of Anne Neville in 1485. Cecily, just months shy of her 12th birthday, followed her father to Bosworth field - something that is wholly historically inaccurate but relevant thematically for what comes after.
The Historical record the tudors wrote in the wake of Redmore Plain/Bosworth Field, claims that Cecily was taken under Tudor custody, died in captivity in the tower and her name was written from the Plantagenet history like her parents and siblings.
What actually follows this is of my own idea: Kim Newman (of Anno Dracula) put forth the idea of Richard III as a vampire - why not, the biggest villain in all of English literary canon as a bloodsucking monster? the Tudor propaganda machine would have a field day.
I didn't buy it. I wanted to honor what Richard really was at his core and would have done if offered vampirism not from a mercenary choosing to fight alongside him at Bosworth - which alongside the whole idea of Richard as a bloodsucking monster, lends credence to the argument of "my kingdom for a horse." Richard, the coward.
Instead, I made Anne Neville the vampiric parasite of a stripe that can be traced to tuberculosis, which in historical records across Europe and America, was linked to vampiric scares. And in a Pre-protestant reformation world, as well as the dissolution, Catholicism and vampirism would not be well-entwined at all.
Richard, at Bosworth, died with the vampiric infection in his blood, harbored for months from when Anne was still alive, and at the point which he laid with her in the months prior to his discovery of her illness. Edward's appendicitis was also dead with the vampiric blood of his mother in his system, a reclusive part of his DNA that went from dormant to active as he died.
Cecily did not die with the vampiric blood in her system - she was turned by Richard in 1491, after he, Anne, Edward and Cecily had fled to Margaret's court at Burgundy, which gave them open sanctuary from the maelstrom of Tudor's breakdown of all things related to Richard's reign. Johnny and Kathryn came to Burgundy along with George of Clarence's children, who were kept safe under Richard's careful watch.
From there, Cecily and her family played a waiting game that lasted from 1485 until 1838, when in this universe, an england reigned by Queen Victoria and her Prime Minister, Lord Melbourne, set their sights on the elder princess, and Melbourne moved to seize her as a bargaining chip to disrupt Richard's laid plans of a Plantagenet overthrow.
She has not been seen or heard from since. Her parents still hold out hope that this is just a temporary kidnapping, but if Lord Melbourne is the one behind it, then hope is a thing loath to be spare.
#harriet rambles#the evils of darkness research#richard iii#original character#Cecily-Anne my beloved#the sunne in splendour#sunne in splendour au#rufus sewell#alternate wars of the roses#vampires#vampire au
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last of us (show) starters // @thenightmareofyourdrems
Unpleasant comments were so quick to tempting to leave his lips … nevertheless, consideration with himself was something he was supposed to improve. Though, even today, he would complaining about the innocence of the old man, who had wanted bring so much good at the end of the universe, unaware all his actions had been carefully watched … Himself was inclined to reproach to his current incarnation his impatience. If it had been inside an rushing desire to unreleasing an paradox in front of everyone, to be finally been able to win towards that tenth incarnation of the Doctor … he destroyed the ruling empire he had been built. The Year Who Never Was remained that comic joke who frustrated his lips, in which, if he had dared not be impatient, he would have been Prime Minister of England for the rest of eternity ... Maybe troubled by some observers in the dark who would have stayed in his back, but won't have been disturbed by his interferences inside his current and future projects. Another sound of frustration was swallowed back as his eyes watched that woman. What did she wanted from him, mh ? Getting some interesting chat about Theta ? It didn't mattered much if she wasn't personally his timeline future self --- where he would uttering that consideration of that woman as a polite sign, since he agreed she had sometimes an interesting outlook about how push circumstances on her mind … but disliked how she wanted to showing candy eyes in front of Theta, where he wanted punching one so badly. Oh, there was also trouble when himself was involved in the party ! Especially with himself. ❝ Used to be a generous nanny, is that why ? ❞ He answered then. Reason of the sudden sleepiness wasn't frontally exposed. Where frustration was present regardless his efforts to hold it back. ❝ How long I slept ? ❞
#thenightmareofyourdrems#ic :: simm!master#post year who never was verse tag#simm!master and missy tbt.#( answered. )#feel free to turn it into an thread
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Can you explain more about why Churchill was bad?
i'm not sure if you're being serious here because i don't think anything i'm about to say is a secret and i feel like we opened this discussion as a society during the summer of 2020, but i'll give you the benefit of the doubt by answering sincerely. putting this under a cut because it's long.
most of the hatred for him comes from his awful views on race and colonial policies, which very few books/documentaries/whatever about him seriously examine. scholars who do explore this less illustrious side of churchill are dismissed, shouted down, ridiculued and condemned but... here at useless england facts we advocate truthful engagements with british history so.
first off he believed in eugenics and racial hierarchies (white protestants at the top of course). he praised what he called "aryan stock", he didn't think black people were as capable or efficient as white people, in 1911 he banned interracial boxing matches so white fighters wouldn't be seen losing to black ones, he described anticolonial campaigners as "savages armed with ideas", and here's another quote from the man:
"I do not admit for instance, that a great wrong has been done to the Red Indians of America or the black people of Australia. I do not admit that a wrong has been done to these people by the fact that a stronger race, a higher-grade race, a more worldly wise race to put it that way, has come in and taken their place." - churchill talking to the palestine royal comission (1937)
one of his worst moments has to be during the bengal famine in 1943 - we answered a question on this before here, so i'll keep this explanation short in saying that he basically he did nothing to help the people of bengal (india was still a british possession at the time) and even blamed them for the famine because they "breed like rabbits". around 3 million people died.
sticking with india for a moment, i know gandhi wasn't a saint, but churchill despised him from a far-right perspective because he hated the idea of indian independence. amongst other things, he called gandhi a "malignant subversive fanatic" and a "seditious middle temple lawyer, now posing as a fakir of a type well known to the east, striding half-naked up the steps of the viceregal palace".
note here too that even some of his conservative contemporaries - including future prime minister anthony eden - were alarmed by churchill's friendliness with the far-right on this issue, so don't bother with that "he was simply a product of his time" stuff. if you want to read more about churchill and gandhi, here is a good place to start.
he hated islam too (might as well cover all bases), calling it as dangerous as a dog with rabies in his book the river war.
he was a zionist, but also shared the antisemitism that was rife amongst people of his class. he wrote in 1937 that the jews "are inviting persecution - that they have been partly responsible for the antagonism from which they suffer" and that "there is the feeling that the Jew is an incorrigible alien, that his first loyalty will always be towards his own race"... quotes that i think speak for themselves.
he's been roundly criticised for his policies in iraq, as he decided to use the royal air force to control the country (because this would mean he needed fewer troops compared to armed combat on the ground). thousands of iraquis were killed by bombs, and when subsequent kurdish and arab uprisings started to threaten british rule, churchill pushed for using chemical weapons - and even some members of his cabinet said this was taking it too far. churchill's pov?
"I do not understand this squeamishness about the use of gas… I am strongly in favour of using poisoned gases against uncivilized tribes. The moral effect should be so good that the loss of life should be reduced to a minimum… Gases can be used which cause great inconvenience and would leave a lively terror and yet would leave no serious permanent affect on most of those affected."
so you know. at least he's not killing them. bear in mind that the use of chemical weapons in warfare was in violation of the 1899 hague declaration concerning asphyxiating gasses, and the 1907 hague convention on land warfare. he once again considered chemical weapons in 1940 so no lessons learned here.
during his time as secretary of state for war and air he had to deal with the irish war of independence! and he was therefore responsible for deploying the black and tans to fight the IRA in ireland - these guys have quite the reputation for excessive brutality, attacking civilians/civilian property, extrajudicial killings, arson, looting - you name it, they've probably done it.
it wasn't just muslims, hindus, non-white people, irish people, jewish people, etc. etc. etc. that he hated, however. he was also (perhaps unsurprisingly) anti-union, as shown by his handling of the 1910 tonypandy riots in south wales when he was home secretary. a dispute arose between some miners and the mine owners and so churchill sent in soldiers who allegedly fired shots (i think this is disputed, but sending in the army is bad enough imo). soldiers were also deployed over the 1911 transport workers strike in liverpool and shots really were fired that time, with two people being killed.
not strike action but he was also dubiously involved in the deaths of a couple of anarchists during the siege of sidney street, again in 1911.
these are just the headlines and i would encourage you to do more of your own research (though i recognise that it's easier said than done in britain), but the man pretty much covered all bases here so i think this is enough to be getting on with.
#i haven't proof read this very well so apologies if it's a mess#there's just so much to include u know#asks#anonymous#Winston Churchill#history#Admin Dominique
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It rained. Of course it did. It wouldn’t have been a proper coronation if it hadn’t. Brits wouldn’t have had it any other way. We were born to suffer. Keep calm and carry on.
The first guests had started arriving at Westminster Abbey from early in the morning. Among them the lucky MPs who had received an invitation. Though many Tories had been complaining it was all a stitch-up by Number 10. That Rishi Sunak had hand-picked favourites and those he wanted to get on side. Whatever. Let’s hope they had strong bladders. It was going to be a long morning.
As the cameras panned round the congregation, the BBC’s Huw Edwards desperately tried to pick out a few people he recognised. There was Ant and Dec. He didn’t know which was which but few do. Nick Cave. You can’t miss the jet-black hair. Stephen Fry behind a pillar somewhere. Jill Biden and her daughter near the back. The US president never attends these kinds of dos. President Macron wandering in, totally at home. He’s almost an honorary royal these days. In his own mind, at any rate.
Others started arriving. The lord speaker processing behind what looked like a large Toblerone. The seven former prime ministers. Boris Johnson and Liz Truss bringing up the rear. Johnson looking a right state as ever. There was no way he was going to make an effort even for this. Truss with the widest smile. She can’t believe her luck. Just 49 days in which she wrecked the country and she’s guaranteed a spot on every guest list for life. Living the dream.
Near the end, Prince Andrew and Harry. Andy was allowed a cape from the dressing-up box, Harry was in civvies. The message was clear: you can be accused of being a sexual predator. But don’t dare marry a black woman and spill the beans in your autobiography. Huw could barely bring himself to mention either of them.
Out in the Mall, Clare Balding was watching a horse walk sideways while the royal coach carrying King Charles and Camilla made its way to the Abbey. Balding pointed out all the flags of the Commonwealth countries, forgetting that many of them wanted to have their own heads of state. Then the cameras also forgot to broadcast the procession going through Trafalgar Square, where republican protesters were gathered. Nor did we get to hear Andrew being booed. This was too much lese-majesty for the occasion. Huw couldn’t have stood it.
Once the king and Camilla reached the abbey, a new procession made its way to the altar. Led by Sebastian Coe. What on earth was he doing here? He gets everywhere you don’t want him and even the royals haven’t found a way of keeping him out. Prince William, Kate and their children all looked as if they were extras from a remake of Cinderella. Then so did a lot of people. Brits like to think no other country does these occasions quite as well. Other countries may have a bit more self-worth. Still, the music was wonderful.
We’d been told that the king had wanted this to be a celebration of all faiths, but in reality this was a full-on Protestant extravaganza. Other faiths were restricted to either a one-line cameo or just a walk-on part. This was in all but name a sacred ritual, honouring Charles as the one true king and the Church of England as the one true religion.
And in truth, it quickly all began to drag a little. Justin Welby’s sermon was borderline unintelligible. Meaningless to most people. The two-hour service could have done with some editing down to 75 minutes. Still, at least it was an hour shorter than the late queen’s in 1953. Prince Louis went missing for large chunks. Lucky him. Perhaps he couldn’t be separated from his PlayStation.
“I am here to serve. Not to be served,” said Charles. Really? It didn’t look that way. The whole thing was being done for his benefit, after all. Though he did look strangely detached throughout. As if he didn’t really want to be there. As if it was all a bit much for him. He could take the trinkets but the obligations of kingship were too heavy a burden. Luckily, for once the pen with which he had to sign his name worked perfectly. Otherwise he might have snapped. The only time he looked vaguely cheerful was when the gospel choir sang.
Then we got to the real ceremony. First the anointing with holy oil that took place behind a screen because it was too sacred to be broadcast. A ritual we were told that went back to Solomon. Hmm. But Zadok the Priest always adds a touch of class. Then the Orb of Excellence, the Mace of Magnificence, the Spurs of the Surreal, the Gauntlet of Devotion, the Goblet of Fire. Or something.
Still, Penny Mordaunt was the breakout star with the Sword of Sincerity. Thank God, Truss got ousted. Otherwise we might have had Jacob Rees-Mogg doing it. The archbishop struggled to get the crown on, but eventually the king was crowned. Prince William swore allegiance and kissed his father. The one tender, personal moment of the entire ceremony. Even so, it was hard to escape the sense of the absurd. A modern 21st-century democracy reliving a medieval fantasy. It was like the royalty as scripted by Disney. Hard to take seriously. Maybe it would have made more sense in black and white.
At least Camilla looked as if she was enjoying herself. She smiled and struggled not to burst out into giggles as she was asked to hold a sceptre. She clearly thought the whole thing was ridiculous. Meanwhile the king carried on suffering in this piece of dadaist performance theatre. After more interminable faffing, the king and queen nipped round the back of the altar. Presumably Camilla needed a cigarette and a quick laugh to release the tension. Most of the rest of us were by now bored. Couldn’t wait for the thing to be over. Enough was enough.
Eventually they reappeared and headed for the exit while the audience sang God save the King. Charles stopped to thank the ministers from other faiths for being ignored throughout the service. Then into the golden carriage. Princess Anne, looking like Napoleon, leapt on to a horse. “She’s now the Gold Stick in Waiting,” Balding said excitedly. Only in Britain.
Daily inspiration. Discover more photos at http://justforbooks.tumblr.com
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Umbrella Pharmaceuticals - Chapter 30
Marcus was sitting on an aseptic steel stool. He looked emaciated, more wrinkled and haggard than the last time.
“This is urgent,” Marcus said as Spencer sat down on another steel stool across the table from him.
“Shoot.” Spencer took a packet of cigarettes from his jacket and lit a cigarette.
“It's about my experiments with the T-virus... There's a question... Um... about the test subjects... There's a question about the subjects.”
Spencer contented himself with inhaling and exhaling the smoke from his cigar. He said nothing.
“The subjects I've used so far... The rats. Some insects. And primates. They're not enough. I've been thinking and I think... I think our T-virus research is starting to hit rock bottom.”
“Do you want to use humans as test subjects?” Spencer blurted out, unprompted.
Marcus was taken aback by his colleague's abrupt reaction, but he soon regained his composure because he had got it right.
“Yes. I need human subjects to progress the T-virus tests. I need us to go back to the original approach of using the Progenitor in humans to test its effects on the organism in situ. I need to go back to the roots, to the original idea, to what we agreed was possible. If Edward hadn't died...”
“We can't control when we die, but we can control what we do before we die.” Spencer borrowed an empty petri dish to use as an ashtray. “Our original idea, what we agreed on, was to use the Ndipaya as test subjects for the Progenitor virus. Isn't that right?”
“Yes.”
“Edward and I were to set up the facilities and work out the plan with the local authorities. Umbrella would be the cover. We were going to start a new phase, but then Edward died in that accident in Germany and it all came to nothing. Isn't that right?”
“Yes,” James repeated.
“Alexander suddenly disappeared and the lines of investigation fell apart. We had to salvage the furniture separately and now we're struggling to scrape together the slightest breakthrough. And now, Marcus, now we're screwed.” Spencer stubbed out the cigarette on the plate to light a new one.
“Screwed how?”
“What we did in Vietnam was good to get us going. Human guinea pigs for drugs. Better than nothing. But... I've also realised that we have a problem with our core business. I have just come back from England. I've got an idea, Jamie. There's a candidate for Prime Minister in the UK, Margaret Thatcher, who, if she wins, promises us a market liberalisation that will balance all of Umbrella's books in one fell swoop. If she wins.”
“What does that have to do with anything?”
“If Thatcher wins and the books balance, Umbrella becomes profitable and our investors are happy. The happier our investors are, the more interested they are in funding our projects. And the more they fund our projects, the more money we can reinvest from our equity to expand the lines of research; and the more expanded the lines of research... The more test subjects. It's very simple.”
Marcus sighed in irritation. He hated politics.
“Tsk. It's all about fucking politics.” Marcus angrily crumpled the paper he was reading. “Fucking politics.” He threw it on the floor.
“Take it easy, Jamie. Take it easy.” Spencer soothed him with the second half-finished cigarette. “Sasha's[1] on it and he's fine. Have a little patience. Everything's going to go according to plan.”
“Like last time.” Marcus sneered bitterly.
“We're going to do it, James.” Spencer leaned closer to his pessimistic friend. “What I did in Raccoon City, in my country house... I told you it could be done. Those two students you recommended... They're already working on it. We just need to make a few adjustments to finish setting up the labs so we can proceed with the second phase of the project.”
“And where will we get the human subjects from?”
“I'll have to talk to Alexander about that.”
Marcus scratched his cheek.
“Be patient. Trust me. I'm the first to want to keep the business afloat. Keep doing what you want around here because there's not much to do until next year's election.”
“What are you going to do?” Marcus stroked his growing grey beard.
“I'm going to tour Europe. In France, overseeing the construction of the new headquarters. In West Germany[2] doing the paperwork. In London with our partners.”
“And Edward's son?”
“He'll spend at least two years here in the United States because his daughter is starting university.”
“Tsk.” Marcus picked up a pen and began to scribble a report. “So much money to babysit.”
“Don't be too hard on him.” Spencer tucked the rucksack into his jacket. “He is young and has a mission to continue his bloodline. They are Stewarts; the future of the kingdom depends on them,” he joked.
“This is what America was founded for, to get away from this nonsense.”
Spencer stubbed out his second cigar.
“I'm a nobleman, and I'm single and childless. It's not all bad.”
“You're a paragon of virtue, Oz.”
[1] Alexander Ashford's family nickname.
[2] Federal Republic of Germany.
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why do you say kiku is part of the problem in your end note of the chapter? is he knowingly or unknowingly being manipulated by alfred or something regarding putting evelyn in her "cage"? sorry i dont really understand why she's in a cage too post-war (at least not anymore than other nations also subject to the international order, alliances and power hierarchies).
These two asks are kind of related so forgive me pinning them together! This is long and rambling, so please forgive me if it's not particularly coherent and is obtuse. I wanted the ending to be a bit off. Like things are better, but there's still a lot of the same old problems that remain.
But yes, Evie has in many ways done a full circle. The people dictating what she can and cannot do have shifted from the Cromwells and Naval Officers and Prime Ministers to simply Alfred.
This is fine by her, as one is much more benevolent than the others. She had been wanting it for a long time anyway.
She is fine it because she is genuinely in a better place after the war, Alfred genuinely cares for her and wants to help her, but. You know. America's poodle and all that. Especially tossed England's way under that Blair Labour Gov and anytime she disagrees with Europe.
Regardless of the truth of such a label, I wanted to - in the fic - show just how there is no easy and correct path for these guys to walk, because despite all the love they have for each other, international relations is going to keep butting them in the head. Everyone in the story lacks autonomy one way or another, the trouble is trying to work out a system that they are either happy or functional within it.
Alfred began wanting to break out of that construct - he ends the story as perhaps its biggest enforcer.
History rarely repeats, but it sure does rhyme. Eva has a decent relationship with the kids and is entering a romantic relationship. There's also progression: she is going to confront and look at how she failed people, with the knowledge that maybe she can't fix it, but she still needs to try regardless.
However, for all that progress, her and Kiku know, if Alfred had said 'no' to them reuniting, their conversation wouldn’t have happened. England and Japan rarely do anything together on an international level without America giving its backing.
Yes Alfred loves her dearly, but she is very clearly the junior player in that relationship now. Her ability to intentionally or incidentally cause harm to others has been greatly reduced, and with that comes the need and chance for her to seriously look at what she did(n't) do. She feels more free because she is more free, but she is also very dependent on Alfred maintaining that.
Alfred's last line: 'we're all together, just like I promised.'
He never promised that. Evelyn did. Alfred internalised it and sort of went: 'only on my terms'. Evelyn accepted this before she got him to shoot her last chapter, saying essentially: 'fine, do whatever you want with me, but you need to protect me if so'. She had been trying to make that transfer for years. Wanting Alfred to be the world’s major player has always been her in some ways trying to exercise autonomy... by signing over autonomy. Maybe that's a really cynical way of looking at it though.
This makes Alfred sound incredibly cruel and Eva a poor victim, but that's really, really not my intention. She never held power in her own right, always propped up by sucking the life out of others. She had to have it ripped away for everyone's sake. Her status required exploitation. She trusts Alfred to do the right thing. Should she? How different is Alfred from her really? Has the dynamic just flipped? Ehhhhh... Open ended I think.
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