#The Curses We Inherit Ch 1

[wardenparker]

Vampire Waltz - Epilogue

Max Phillips x female reader Co-written with @absurdthirst

A mysterious inheritance, sprawling mansion, eccentric roommates, friendly bat, and coven of New England witches are the newest chapter of your life after being unceremoniously dumped and kicked out by your boyfriend. For Max, the biggest change in his life is you, and what exactly he's going to do about the fact that he is stuck living with you as long as his sire continues to punish him for that incident at his last office...

Rating: Mature, but this blog is always 18+ Word Count: 13.9k Warnings: *Blanket warnings for this series: deceased parents, cursing, food, blood and blood drinking, depictions and references to abusive relationships. Anxiety and trauma responses. Self-worth issues.* Pregnancy. Some healing of generational trauma, reconciliation, regret, past pain. But mostly fluff. Summary: In the time after returning to your original timeline, life seems to have many more surprises left for you and Max. Notes: Editing this chapter has been a good old fashioned cry at my laptop, I will admit that entirely. This little family has given us such a wild ride, and we are so grateful to each one of you for reading along for every twist and turn. Please join us for Hummingbird Has Landed, starting next week!

Ch 1 ~ Ch 2 ~ Ch 3 ~ Ch 4 ~ Ch 5 ~ Ch 6 ~ Ch 7 ~ Ch 8 ~ Ch 9 ~ Ch 10 ~ Ch 11 ~ Ch 12 ~ Ch 13 ~ Ch 14 ~ Ch 15 ~ Ch 16 ~ Ch 17

Six months fly by in the blink of an eye, and before you know it the day of the wedding has arrived. Seacliff has been thrown open for the occasion, decorated top to bottom in roses accented with spring wildflowers and with every curtain thrown open to let the sunlight in. At the end of your second trimester, you tend to get tired earlier in the night so you and Max had opted for an afternoon wedding with sort of an high tea theme for the food. The music is all perfect for dancing to, of course, and everyone from the dance studios you now frequent to the girls from the coven to your extended vampiric family has been invited. He’s even made a few friends at the firm where he now works, opting to go into real estate this time around. After spending a hundred years building different houses, he knows a thing or two about it.

Allison and Eddie will be the ones to stand up for you today, of course, as Allison learns each day a little bit more of what it means to be a vampire who has kept her humanity through every step of the change. You and Max had stood up with them at City Hall a few months ago and helped throw their more laid-back wedding reception at Chateau-sur-Mer. Now everything is set up for today’s success as well. All that’s left, really, is for Max’s surprise to arrive.

Max hovers, a habit that he’s developed even more as your stomach has grown. In love with the slow heartbeat of his child in your stomach and the sweet smell of your blood. He craves you more than you know, but he’s refused to drink from you since finding out that you are carrying his child. Not willing to risk anything, even after decades of taking your blood.

“Everything’s fine, love.” He’s always been a doting partner but for the last few months it’s increased exponentially and somehow you’re even more in love with him for it. “We’ve had weddings before. Everything will be just fine.”

“I know.” He does know that, but for some reason, this is the one that is making him nervous. “I’m excited.” He admits quietly. “This one is us. Our original timeline.” He pushes away the pang of sadness that seems to be creeping up every time the baby moves, or he thinks about being a father. The loss of his family is more poignant in this time because there’s no good reason they are not here.

“That’s why this one is exactly what we wanted. Good music, good food, not too fancy but not too casual.” You reach out and squeeze his hand, rubbing gently along his arm. “It’s the Goldilocks of weddings.”

“Are you comfortable?” He asks, shaking away his disappointment that parents who don’t care about him aren’t sitting on the groom’s side and focuses on you. “You should sit before the ceremony.” After so many years together and so many weddings, it seems ridiculous to observe the ‘no seeing the bride before the ceremony’ tradition. “The baby was really active last night; I know your sleep wasn’t the best.”

“The baby’s excited.” Over your second trimester you’ve started to get the feeling that your little witch-vampire pup can sense your emotions, and he knows you’re excited for today. “And Tracy brewed me a little potion for today. Energy without caffeine so I won’t get too tired and I can enjoy the day.”

He eyes you, but he doesn’t say anything. Always wary about portions because he’s paranoid, not because he doesn’t trust the witches that make up your very supportive coven. “Do you want a little massage before we start?” He offers, knowing how much you enjoy the back and foot massages he’s gotten pretty good at.

“It’s perfectly safe,” you assure him, but you’re already sitting back in your favourite chair with bare feet ready for rubbing. This is not going to be a day for silk stockings or anything delicate like that. “It’s one of Lina’s recipes. Tracy is having fun going through her grimoire.”

Max chuckles at how quickly you move when you are offered a massage. It’s cute how much you enjoy being pampered and he loves to remind you that you are the absolute love of his life. “Honestly? I trust them. I’m just worrying to worry.” He tells you as he sits down on the little foot stool. “Have I told you how fucking gorgeous you are today?”

"Hmmm, only once." Max starts in on your swollen, achy feet right away and you hum happily, sinking back into your chair and letting your hands cradle the large bump that threatens to take over your entire torso. Max Phillips makes big babies, apparently. "The grey suit is one of my favourites, by the way," you hum, referencing the three-piece heather grey suit he chose for today with dark red accents that match your bouquet of roses and Allison's red bridesmaid dress. "You look like a dream."

“Not nearly as dreamy as my pregnant, gorgeous, glowing wife-to-be.” He teases, winking at you. Since the beginning of the week, he’s called you his fiancée or wife-to-be. The new ring on your finger would never replace the original that has so much meaning for the both of you, but he has always given you new rings for every wedding. “But I have to try to look my best when I will be by your side.”

"I hope you don't mind." Holding up your other hand, you show him the original engagement ring he gave you in 1885 sitting on your finger, like a family heirloom accenting the beautiful sapphire ring he chose for you in this timeline. Your something blue, he had told you with a grin. "I felt like this time was the time to wear both."

“Whatever you want.” He promises with a grin. “Eventually we will have enough rings you can wear a different one every day.”

"I'll have a very full jewelry box for our son to pick from when he eventually proposes to his soulmate." Finding out you're carrying a little boy had had both of you crying in the doctor's office, overwhelmed and emotional about the next generation of your family to come.

“Very true.” He presses his thumb to the arch of your foot and he grins when you groan.

"I'm so glad I decided not to wear heels today," you huff, laughing slightly as your head falls back on your chair.

“Me too.” Max snorts. The sparkly white shoes you have chosen are cute and practical. “Although I still like the barefoot and pregnant wedding idea.” He teases with a wink.

"Maybe next time." That draws a deep laugh from you, and you lean back even more. "We'll have that one in summer, when being barefoot doesn't mean stepping on cold floors."

“Next time.” He agrees, although he doesn’t know if there would be a next time. All that matters is your comfort. “We still have an hour and a half before the ceremony.” He chuckles. “Maybe we’ve become too efficient at getting ready for these things.”

"Probably. Sixth time's the charm, I guess." You both laugh, enjoying the quiet and the comfort of being together upstairs in your bedroom. The Taylors, Renee, and Mr. Finchley were all invited to come today as guests but they had balked at the idea of not helping to put together today's event. As a result you've had twice the staff in getting the house ready today and everything is ready ahead of schedule. "Although..." you glance up at the clock and realize it's almost time. "I did plan a sort of...surprise for you today."

“Sweetheart…” he tilts his head and pouts at you adorably. “I thought we said that we were going to keep it low key?” He huffs. “Now my surprise is just going to be a normal wedding gift exchange.”

"I know what we said, and your wedding present is entirely separate." The photo album isn't technically complete anyway, since it has photographs of your first five wedding days already set in it but has left plenty of room for your sixth. "This is just for you."

“Is it something kinky?” He asks with a wicked grin on his face. “I can get behind that. Unless you want to get behind me???” He jokes.

"Not until this little pup comes out to greet us," you laugh, knowing your maneuverability isn't great these days.

“I don’t know, you were pretty kinky last night.” He reminds you. “Or was that someone else that wanted to ride my cock while I gave her tits all the attention?”

"Oh no, that was the horny pregnant woman you're marrying today." And damn last night was a good night.

“I know, and I love her.” He laughs and looks around. “So tell me about this surprise?”

As if on cue, there is a knock at your bedroom door and your own housekeeper clears her throat gently on the other side. "Mrs. Phillips? It's time."

"Thank you, Mrs. Moreau. We'll be down directly." Thankfully your shoes are nearby, and you flash Max a small smile. "Ready, love?" You ask, knowing that he has no idea what's waiting for him downstairs.

“Sure.” He shoots you a suspicious look but quickly applies himself to putting your shoes on. “You’re lucky you don’t have stinky feet.” He teases and pats your knee when he puts your foot down, both of them now wearing comfortable shoes.

The result of about three months' worth of phone calls is waiting downstairs, and you take Max's hand to walk downstairs together. There's a chance he'll be upset with you. Angry, even. But you've known him for long enough now that you don't think he will be – or at least you hope that he will see the gesture for what it is. A loving attempt at bringing him the happiness that you know he's been missing from his life.

He’s curious when he sees that the formal parlor is where you are guiding him. Wondering what you’ve had delivered and he stops dead when he hears a voice he has not heard for a lifetime. He wouldn’t recognize it for the fact that it was permanently attached to a thousand different childhood memories.

"I reached out about three months ago," you explain, feeling him stop dead beside you in the hall. "I told them that we were getting married and that we're expecting, and honey...they miss you so much."

“They— you called them?” He asked dumbly. “That’s— that’s my parents in there?” He asks, feeling like he’s in a dream even though he’s not dreamed since he’s been changed.

"I'll let them tell you everything." He isn't shouting or refusing to see them, so you're taking his quiet wonder as a very good sign. "But...I obviously left out the whole time travel, magic, and vampirism part of our story. I did tell them we're Wiccan, though. So they wouldn't be confused by the handfasting today."

He nods but he doesn’t say anything. Still process the fact that his parents are beyond those doors. People who had abandoned him when he needed them most. Part of him wants to run away, to refuse to see them, but you are squeezing his hand and looking so hopeful when he finally looks at you.

“If you don’t want to, it’s okay.” They’ll be disappointed, and so will you a little, but you’ll all understand. “I just knew that if I asked you about having them over, you would refuse on principle.”

“No.” He chokes out, shaking his head and for a horrible moment, he thinks he might cry. “I just can’t believe they came.”

“Well…” When you look up at him again, you offer him the softest, gentlest smile possible. “They wanted to apologize in person.”

“What did you say to them?” He asks, unable to believe the people who had disowned him, told him they never wanted to see him again, want to apologize.

“I actually did very little of the talking.” You nod to the door and squeeze his hand again, ready with a handkerchief if he ends up needing it. “Do you want to go in?”

“Um, sure.” With his free hand, he meticulously straightens his vest and his hair before he moves. He’s nervous and honestly a little afraid his parents want to ruin today for him.

When the door opens there are two people standing by the windows, looking down the lawn where your wedding ceremony will be and out to the sparkling ocean. Jeff and Maria Phillips stand together in a moment of awe before Maria is rushing forward and stops still in front of Max with one arm outstretched. “Max.” Her instinct is to call him honey, but she doesn’t know just how much he would hate that. “You—we tried everything we could think of to find you and we’re—” She chokes up almost instantly, The regret painted on her face as obviously as daylight.

“We’re so sorry, son.” Jeff has come up behind his wife and put his hands on her shoulders. “We should have taken you at your word when everything happened and we didn’t. That’s—we can’t undo it, Max. But we’ve regretted it every day.”

“Why?” That is the question that plagued him for years. The thing that had broken his heart and confused him. His parents weren’t the warmest people, but he had thought they had loved him enough to believe him. “You told me I was a disgrace to the Phillips name, that you wished I had never been born.” He reminds them. “Why?” His hand lets go of yours and rests on your stomach protectively. “I can never imagine telling my son something so cruel.”

“We received a phone call from the young man who…who accused you.” Usually quite a proud man, Jeff Phillips flounders in explaining himself to his son — a fully grown and obviously proud man in his own respect. “And from the Dean of your college, as well. We were told the proof was irrefutable and we knew you were ambitious, it all just…” he stops, shaking his head and letting it hang in a moment of shame. “Your great-grandfather, my grandfather, had done a lot of very unfortunate, mostly illegal things to get ahead in his lifetime. I tried to raise you as far away from that kind of life as I possibly could, and it—it was a lie that hit too close to home. And I thought I’d failed you. Instead of taking responsibility for that, I lashed out. And I don’t expect you to ever forgive me for it. But your soulmate reached out to us and said you were getting married, so we wanted to at least tell you that we love you on your wedding day.” The gift they had brought was out on the table in the foyer with a few others that had been mailed — an heirloom for the baby with a long letter of explanation and apology. That way even if Max didn’t want to see them, they could at least leave him with words of love in another way. The Phillips family crib and baby blankets made by Max’s grandmother belonged with him now.

Max swallows harshly, knowing that before you, before his time in the past, he would have sent them away for the pure pleasure of watching them hurt the way they had hurt him. To lash out and make them feel the rejection and heartache he had lived with for years. Except, he had to watch history repeat itself in a sense. Knowing the path that was before a headstrong daughter and equally stubborn parents. Watching the silent heartbreak and pain when their daughter distanced themselves from them. Knowing the further heartache that was awaiting them. He had sworn that he would be better than his parents and if he sends them away, what does that teach his son? His parents only have a small amount of time left, should he deny himself that time out of some childish need for punishment? Over the centuries, Max would like to believe he’s matured.

He frowns, looking at the table that has the gifts on them and then looks back at his parents. “Are you staying?” He asks, unsure if they wanted to stay or if they just wanted to make peace.

“We’d like to,” his mother offers, eyes flickering once over to you and then back to her son. She knows the decision isn’t theirs or yours. “But only if you want us to.”

“What made you look for me? Do you think that I’m telling the truth? Or—” Max has to know, he has to know what changed their minds.

“We tried to look for you just a couple of weeks after everything happened.” Maria takes a small step forward, so deeply hopeful that Max will forgive them. “The school said they couldn’t tell us anything besides the fact that your transcripts had been forwarded to another university, and there wasn’t a Find My Phone or anything like that, that we could use to try to find you.” Her voice wavers, obviously emotional, and she sniffles softly. “We realized that the son we’d raised…you didn’t deserve to be shunned even if you had made a mistake. We’d just been so shocked that we reacted on instinct.” Another small shake of her head comes with a few small tears that Maria quickly wipes away. “We should have believed what you told us over anything else. Over any other fear or story. The more times we talked through it, the more we realized…cheating was never the shortcut you were going to take. You always worked too hard for that. And we’d pushed you away for nothing.”

“I had to go to Romania to find a school that would accept me.” Max tells them, biting his lip and closing his eyes as he wrestles with himself. “You lost the son you knew there.”

Your hand slips gently over his, holding it in yours and wondering if this was a mistake. You know how much Max misses his parents, but some hurts are just too deep. It would be truly unfortunate if this was one of them.

“It’s obvious you’ve become a good man even without us.” His father acknowledges, nodding sadly. He knows he failed his son in so many ways, and he really doesn’t have anyone to blame but himself. Maria had fought him in the beginning and brought him around to the truth in time. “But if you’d let us, we’d like to get to know the man you are now.”

“There’s something you need to know before you make that decision.” Max opens his eyes and looks at the older man who is so much like him, even though he has his mother’s ears. Then over to his mother who looks like she is about to break down sobbing. “I’ve wanted you in my life for years, but I won’t let you back in only for you to run away when you find out.”

“Whatever you want to share with us, we want to hear.” It’s a promise, and Jeff Phillips doesn’t take that lightly after all this time.

“Technically….” Max squeezes your hand gently. “Your son, I— died in Romania.” He admits quietly. “I was turned into a vampire.”

The quiet in the room could be cut by a knife, and you hold Max’s hand tightly while his parents process what he’s just said. It’s confusion — deep confusion — more than anything else, but after a seemingly interminable few minutes, Maria nods. “Are you happy?” She asks, aware that her husband must be looking at her like she has three heads right now.

“I am.” Max nods. “I have my soulmate and our child. I’ve done things you would never believe. And now, I am seeing you again.” He gives her a small smile. “After I— was changed, I came back. I saw you from a distance.”

“The world gave you a witch so you would have someone to understand you.” Maria observes, nodding solemnly. You had explained the pertinent parts of being Wiccan to his father over the phone months ago but hadn’t had that conversation directly with his mother so you hadn’t heard her reaction personally. “When did you come to see us, sweetheart?”

Sweetheart. It’s a term he hasn’t heard from his mother in over ten years in this timeline and it makes him bite his lip. “August 14th, 2013.” He gives a small shrug. “Your birthday.”

It’s heartwarming, and unexpected, to know that he had missed them too. Just because you had said so in your call — it did not mean it ran deeply. But Max and his mother had always shared a mutual fondness for birthdays. “I wish you had come inside,” his mother admits, although she smiles in a sort of lopsided way. “Although…could you have? If we had not invited you? You’ll have to tell us what is real and what is legend.”

It’s curious that his mother automatically believes him, and he wonders if they think this is some kind of test. He’s testing to see they will believe him and chosen the most outrageous thing. “I don’t have to be invited in.” He laughs.

“Do you remember Vera?” His mother asks, seeing skepticism in her son’s eyes before looking back at her husband too. “The woman who lived next door and would babysit for us when Max was little?” To you she explains, “He would get off the school bus and go to our next-door neighbor’s house for a few hours until Jeff or I got out of work. Whichever one of us got home first would go next door and tell him we were home.”

“Yes?” Jeff frowns slightly, wondering why his wife would bring up a neighbor that was long moved away.

“When Max was a baby, and I would go over to her house during the day for a little change of scenery?” She pauses and looks back over at you with a smile. “Maternity leave can make you feel like your mind is melting sometimes. Find a safe place to get out of your own house. Even if it’s just someone else’s house.” The advice to you seems decent enough, and you barely have time to smile in acknowledgment before she’s looking back to her husband and son again. “Vera used to tell me stories from home,” Maria explains. “And…folktales are always founded in a little bit of truth, aren’t they?”

“She was Romanian.” Max remembers suddenly. “She told you about vampires, didn’t she?”

“She did.” Maria nods, but ends up shrugging reluctantly. “I thought she was an eccentric old lady, but I was grateful for the company. Now…I wish I had taken notes.” Stepping forward one more time, Maria takes a chance and reaches out for Max’s free hand. “We already lost you once, sweetheart. If this means we’ll never lose you again? That your soulmate and your son will never lose you? Then it’s a blessing.”

“I just— I didn’t want you to find out and throw me away again.” Max murmurs quietly. “I had planned on honoring your wishes, to never see you again. But— I— I’m glad you’re here.”

"We never should have said those things." Jeff was the one who said most of it, and he's been humbled enough by regret over the last decade to just...accept whatever it is that life puts out in front of him and his family. He may not understand it, but better to be confused and follow his wife's good example than to risk losing everything all over again. "We missed you, son."

Even though he doesn’t need to breathe, Max exhales loudly, trying to keep from crying. The whole in his heart that he’s refused to acknowledge since the day they had disowned him, finally starting to heal. “I’ve missed you too, Dad.”

The hesitation is cut from the room as Max's parents lurch forward to throw their arms around him and hold on to him tightly. As much as he hates to let go of your hand, he does, needing to basically catch his parents as they hug him. Closing his eyes and trying not to bawl like a baby as he inhales the scent of the people he had never imagined being close to again.

Maria is the one who cries, being dainty about it because she doesn't want her makeup to run or to stain her son's immaculate suit, but she can't help herself. It was not so long ago that she thought she would never get to even see Max again, let alone hug him.

The embrace goes on for longer than he had ever imagined until they break apart and Max turns his head towards you to find you crying quietly into a handkerchief. “Dolly, come here, my love.”

"I'm sorry," you murmur, laughing at yourself a little as you dab at your eyes. This is the reason you hadn't done your eye makeup yet. "Pregnancy hormones."

“You have nothing to be sorry for.” As soon as you are close, you are bundled into his arms and he is pressing his lips to yours. “I love you. I can’t believe you did this for me.”

"I'd do anything for you." And as many times as you've said it, the meaning always holds true. You would turn the world upside down for him – and you even have the power to do it after a hundred years spent honing your magic. "I love you so much."

“I love you too.” He promises gently. Kissing you once more before he turns to his parents. “Let me properly introduce you.” He offers. “Even though you’ve spoken on the phone.”

"We want to know everything." Max's father has handed his wife his handkerchief and is obviously stifling his own emotional reaction – and doing a very poor job of it.

Max pulls you closer to his side and his other hand is proudly protective on your stomach. “This is Dolly.” He does mention your real name, but wants them to know that you prefer your nickname. “My soulmate. The most wonderful woman in the world and the woman I will waltz through eternity with.”

Maria moves to embrace you without hesitation, but Jeff’s head tilts in obvious confusion and curiosity. “Waltz?”

Right. He had never really danced when he was with them. It was picked up in Romania. "I started ballroom dancing." He explains. "An elective in Romania. Dolly also ballroom danced competitively. My favorite thing to do is to waltz with this beautiful lady." He admits proudly.

“We choreographed our first dance,” you tell them proudly, as soft as ever at Max’s side. “You’ll see. He’s an exceptional dancer.”

Maria bites her lip, aware of missing so much time with her son because of their foolish mistake and she nods. "He is exceptional." She reaches out for one of his hands and squeezes it gently. "And you seem so happy." That's all that matters to her.

“We are.” If anything, that is the thing you can promise them. That you’re happy and living the very best, most fulfilling life you possibly can be. “Max is the best thing that ever happened to me.”

"And...his being a vampire is what caused you to meet?" Jeff asks, curious to how the two of you met and trying to wrap his head around the whole situation.

“My grandfather was one of Max’s professors in Romania.” This is the part that is going to get careful explanation, as you hadn’t gone into it over the phone. “He is also Max’s sire. That is…the vampire that turned him. My grandfather took Max under his wing, and even brought him to live with my grandmother here in Newport before she died. I met Max when I moved into that house, as well.”

"I see." There's obviously more to the story, but he won't pry. Right now, he is just glad the boy is talking to him. He knows that Max inherited his stubborn streak, and he could have been rightfully turned away with an expletive and he would have deserved it.

“You’ll meet him today, if you stay for the wedding.” There are still a few more months on Yayo’s ticking clock to join his wife and daughter in the afterlife, but he is waiting until your son is born to leave this world. He had smiled when the decision was made, telling you that wanted to bring good news to Cookie and Annie in the next life. “My grandfather is…a little dramatic,” you smile, stifling a laugh. “I’m afraid it’s a family trait.”

Max chuckles. "And since he is a vampire as well, he looks younger than you, Dad." He warns the other man. "However, Dolly's grandfather is the first vampire. The oldest in existence and has walked the earth for thousands of years."

“It’s a bit of a long story.” The expressions on both of his parents’ faces are something like an undergrad trying to work out a complex math problem, and you shake your head while running a soothing hand over your belly. “Can I offer you a tour of the house?” That, at least, is semi normal. Even if your house was built in 1888 and is still a functional Gilded Age mansion.

“It is beautiful.” Maria nods instantly and Jeff shakes his head. “Do you mind if I speak to Max privately?” He asks you before looking at his son. “Would you, son?”

You look to Max for his confirmation, and when he nods and leans over to kiss you, you offer him an encouraging smile. “I’ll show your mother the library first.”

Max nods, his eyes following you out of the room and he wants to follow you, but he is curious to what his father wants to say privately. Only when he can't see you anymore, do his eyes turn towards Jeff and he arches a brow.

“She’s quite a girl.” He says after the door closes, gesturing to where you have escorted his mother from the room with grace and surety.

"Yes she is." Max will always agree with that. His proud little smile on the corner of his mouth shows his happiness at being matched with you. "She's been through a lot and is still the kindest woman I've ever known."

"When she called us the first time, your mother thought she was an angel." Jeff smiles at that, his wife always has been the gentler out of the two of them. Just like with you and Max.

"In a lot of ways, she is." Max nods. "I normally call her Queenie, as another nickname." He tells his father. "And she is amazingly graceful, carrying a half vampiric child."

"And her..." his father clears his throat. "Her grandfather is...also a vampire?" He's not willing to go against a single second of this, his son is too precious to him after all this time, but he wants to at least make sure that he has everything he's being told straight.

"Yes." Max looks at his father. "I would have met her at Vanderbilt. Discovered that we were soulmates there. I actually had a blind date with her the day I was kicked out." He reveals. "But that didn't happen and luckily her grandfather recognized her birthmark on my arm and changed me." He slides his hands into his pockets, a defense against the hurt that is still there but slowly lessening. Ever more so now that his parents want to be in his life. "He arranged for us to have the meeting we should have had nearly fourteen years ago."

"Jesus..." If his wife was in the room, Maria would scold him for taking the Lord's name in vain, but Jeff just shakes his head. "I..." Jeff blows out a breath. "I know saying that I'm sorry will never be enough. But I really...I'll never stop saying it, if that's what it takes for you to believe how much we regret what happened."

"I believe you." Max has become closely acquainted with actions taken in anger and regretted later. He believes that your mother would have eventually broken the magic binding if she had lived. "Dolly and I talked about reaching out, but for a long time, I was so hurt, I wouldn't have come to you for anything." He sighs softly. "My wife doesn't have much family left. Her parents are gone, and I know she wants as much love for our son as possible. It doesn't surprise me that she contacted you."

"She said she lost her parents, and that you shouldn't have to lose yours as well." It's sweet, Jeff thinks, that his son already refers to his soulmate as his wife on the morning of their wedding day, but he doesn't say anything. It seems like your lives are complicated and he doesn't want to judge. On that, he has learned his lesson. "Max, you should...you should know..." He clears his throat again and casts an eye around the room. "I never actually changed my will. By the time I came out of the fog enough to even talk to our lawyer, I realized the mistake I had made. But it was already too late to find you."

Max frowns slightly, wondering why that would matter to him. Why he would be concerned with his father's will, but then it clicks. His father wants to talk to him about some kind of inheritance. He tilts his head curiously. "I see...."

"Obviously you don't...you don't need my help." The house his son lives in now is a literal mansion. It's far bigger and better than anything that he and Maria were able to give Max growing up. But there is a matter of principle and pride in making sure that they leave what they can to their son when they leave this world. "I had a cousin. A distant cousin, I mean. Who died two years ago. And the guy left behind a big plot of land as well as some assets. Combined with what your mother and I had planned to leave you...it's pretty substantial." He shrugs his shoulders a little, hands in his pockets in a posture that mirrors his son's. "Do whatever you like with it. It's yours. Or maybe your boy's, who knows?"

"Dad...I appreciate that." He promises, meaning it. He had long written off the idea of anything from his parents. "More than you know."

"Maye we can all take a trip together sometime?" He's lost so much time with Max that even being called Dad again has him close to tears, but he shakes it off for now. The day is already emotional. "I guess my mother's side of the family had some money, so it's a nice piece of land in upstate New York. Tuxedo Park. 'Pullman House', I think it's called. Can you imagine having enough money that your house has a name?" He chuckles at the idea, not realizing that his son’s current home most definitely has a name, and shaking his head.

Max freezes for a moment, his eyes widening slightly and he has to take a moment. "Pullman House?" He asks, remembering visiting the house, the last time being a very somber affair. "I— are you serious?"

"Yeah." Jeff nods, taking out his phone to pull up the pictures of the house and grounds that the estate lawyer had sent over. "Have you heard of it?"

"I— I didn't know we were related to the Pullman's." He admits, never looking into his family tree when he was back in time with you. He hadn't wanted to. "How?"

"My grandmother was a Pullman." He doesn't quite see why it matters, but Max seems to recognize the family name so he hands over his phone with photographs of the sprawling mansion. "They made train cars, I think? Back after the Civil War. Must have made quite a bit of money at it, to have a house like that, but it's not in the best shape now. We, uh...your mother and I thought, we could invest a little in it now to fix it up and rent the house out while we're alive. And once we're gone it's yours to do whatever you want with."

"I've been there before." Max tells him with a nod, "I mean, in the area. Tuxedo Park. It's gorgeous from what I remember." He lifts a brow and decides that maybe he should put forth an idea of his own. "It could be something we do together?" He offers. "Dolly and I love historical architecture. Obviously." He chuckles as he glances around the room. "We can start the restoration and see what happens?"

Jeff obviously hadn’t expected that kind of enthusiasm, and when he nods he put his hand out to his son to shake. “I’d like the chance to get to know the man my son has become,” he agrees, on the verge of being choked up again. “And I’ll never say no to getting to see my grandson. It sounds pretty perfect.”

Max looks at the offered hand and reaches out to shake it firmly. "That sounds good." He tells him. "But first, I need to make sure that my soulmate officially carries the Phillips last name." He jokes.

“Why don’t we catch up with our soulmates before they start making plans of their own?” His father suggests with a chuckle, knowing that Maria’s sweet disposition means it could very well happen.

"I'm glad you came." Max admits softly, frowning slightly even though he's completely happy. He's frowning so he doesn't cry, but there's a certain mistiness to his eyes.

“I’m glad, too.” On instinct, Jeff tugs gently on Max’s hand and gratefully holds onto his son once more in a strong hug. They’re both emotional, but if there was ever a time for it in their lives — this seems as appropriate a time as any to shed a few tears in each other’s presence. “I love you, Max. I’m sorry it’s not something you heard often when you were growing up.”

"Always thought I had done something wrong." Max confesses. "If I made the team, you'd love me. If I graduated with honors, you'd love me." He flashes an amused, self-deprecating grin. "If I was a ladies’ man, you'd – at least be proud of me." He snorts. "Always wondered why it was never quite enough. If I was just that much of a disappointment. So instead of talking about it, I decided being a cocky shit and show that I didn't really care what people thought of me."

“I pushed you hard because I knew you were going to do something incredible one day.” They’re both teary, standing together in that room, but it’s okay. It’s always been okay to show his son what he feels, he just didn’t know that. “Your Mom, um…she’s had me doing work on myself. I mean, we’ve been doing it together, but it’s mostly for…” He huffs, rolling his eyes at himself. “She comes to therapy with me a lot. Got plenty of shit to work out and I don’t want it to affect you anymore. And I really don’t want it to affect my grandson. So I’m…I’m working on me. I just really hope it helps. Because you were always enough, Bud. And I always loved you. I just didn’t know how to tell you that.”

"I understand." Max nods. "I've done my own bit of therapy." He doesn't mention it was back before therapy was a thing and it had been with his sire. "Dolly has insisted on it, because of her own issues and it's a good thing. To be the best version of ourselves for each other and our son."

“Do you have any names yet?” Motioning to the door, Jeff means to walk and talk if they can, trying to make the most of every second he has with Max. Of course there’s probably things to finalize before the wedding starts, but they at least have time to catch up to their soulmates.

"We were thinking Johnathan, for Dolly's grandfather and my sire." He smiles slightly. "Johnathan Jeffery Phillips." He watches his father, wondering how he would react to the middle name.

It’s instant, the way Jeff tears up all over again, and this time two thick tears escape his eyes before he can stop them. “Really?” He has to ask, wondering if his son had forgiven him long enough ago to have considered naming his son after the father who had made such an enormous mistake.

"We had long talks about it." Many hours spent talking while you laid in his arms and later when he was stroking the rounded stomach that houses his child even now. "If my son couldn't have his grandfather in his life, at least he would carry a piece of him with him." It was how you had phrased it and Max had nearly cried then too.

“Well goddamn.” Gobsmacked, Jeff wipes his hands down his face and then claps Max on the back with a sigh. “I don’t even know what to say. Except thank you.”

There's nothing else to say at the moment, so Max just nods as you and his mother come into view. "There they are." He hums, smiling at the sight of you absently stroking your stomach as you chat with Maria.

“Hey, my love.” In your wedding dress, all ready for the day, you have been telling your mother-in-law a little about the history of the house and showing her some of the older books in the library. Seeing Max’s softened expression though, you reach out to him immediately. “Everything alright?”

“It’s fine.” He loves that you worry about him, it makes him feel loved. “I was telling my dad about the name we’ve picked out for the baby.”

“Ah,” you hum, leaning over the bump between you to kiss him softly. “Hence the tears?”

“A little emotional.” Max admits shamelessly, enjoying the bump of his heart as he presses his lips to yours.

“That’s good.” You tilt your head to kiss his nose as well and wink. “It’s our wedding day after all.”

"You are amazing, you know that?" He asks softly, kissing you again. "I can't believe you did this. Thank you, my love."

“You deserve to be happy.” The gentle reminder comes with a smile, and you squeeze his hand. “And I know you missed them.”

"You know me too well." He smirks. "Almost like you've lived with me forever."

“Hmm.” Humming a little, you end up giggling instead. “Almost like.”

There’s an inside joke there somewhere, making Jeff and Maria smile awkwardly as the two of you share a moment. “Did you tell Mom?” He asks you, wanting to make sure everyone was aware of the name.

“Not yet.” You look back at his parents but shake your head. “I thought you would want to tell them.”

He flashes you a grin, knowing you are aware that he still has a love of attention, but this is truly special. “Our son is going to be named Johnathan Jeffery Phillips.” He tells Maria, rubbing your belly gently.

“Sweetheart.” His mother is nearly in tears all over again, reaching for Max with overwhelming affection just as earnestly as her other hand goes to her husband. “Is it…” her hands are occupied, but her eyes move to you. “Was Johnathan your father’s name?” She asks as gently as she can.

“It’s my grandfather’s,” you tell her, touched that she would think to ask. “We think we’ll call him JJ for short, but we wanted him to have family names.” JJ is also a sort of family name; in a way you can’t really explain. Lina’s youngest son — little JJ Astor — was sort of your spiritual godson after he wanted to start learning his magic as a young man. You mourned him as dearly as the rest of his family did after the Titanic went down, even though you knew it was coming. That didn’t stop you from missing him.

“I— it’s a beautiful name.” Maria assures you. “JJ is a proper little boy’s name and then he can decide if he wants to keep it or go by Johnathan.” She is so touched that Max would include them in the naming of his child, despite the troubles from before. It will be one of the greatest regrets of her life.

“No matter what, he’ll always be loved.” Your hand smooths the underside of your belly as JJ himself makes an appearance in the conversation, kicking happily to show his approval — or at least his enthusiasm.

Max chuckles proudly. “He’s always so active. Giving mom his opinions on everything. He seems to like his name.” He tells his parents.

“I hate to interrupt, sir. Madam.” The petite figure of your housekeeper appears in the open library doorway. Mrs. Moreau has been with you since the house was finished in 1888, a determined and intelligent middle-aged woman-turned-vampire from Louisiana that prided herself on her skills as a caretaker. “But the other guests have begun to arrive. Mr. And Mrs. Perez are asking for you.”

“Of course.” Max nods and looks towards his parents. “I would like you to stay.” He tells them. “Please? We can talk and if you haven’t booked a hotel, you are welcomed to stay here.” He glances at you for confirmation, but he’s well aware that you’ve probably already planned for such an event.

“I already asked Mrs. Moreau to make up a guest room.” Obviously you had been hopeful that this reunion would go well, but you had really asked your housekeeper to make sure a few guest rooms were ready just in case anyone over indulged at the wedding. Safety first.

“Oh, well – are you sure?” The last thing they want to do is intrude on their son on his wedding night, but they also aren’t ready to let him out of their sight for too long as well. They hadn’t booked a hotel in case he refused to see them; the heartbreak would have been too much.

“We insist.” This is the outcome you were hoping for, after all, and you’re glad to see that Max and his parents are going to be able to patch things up. However slowly it happens, the work has begun. And that’s what matters most. “We aren’t leaving for our honeymoon for another week. And we’d like very much if you stayed.” The little train ride down to Washington DC will be welcome, and you had planned to take in museums and eat good food for a week or two before coming home again and making sure you have everything you need for the baby.

Maria bites her lip and looks at Jeff, wanting this more than anything. She’s missed her son, her only baby and now she’s being given another chance. “We accept.” She tells you with a happy grin. “As long as we can help in some small way. However we can.”

“I’m sure we’ll think of something.” You assure her, but for now you link your fingers through Max’s and smile. “We’re going to go finish getting ready. Please have a drink if you’d like and enjoy looking around a little before you take your seats in the garden. Mrs. Moreau will help you get settled.” There’s something to be said for having come into your own as a woman and a hostess in the Gilded Age, and with the help of women like your grandmother, Mrs. Astor, and Mrs. Vanderbilt. It has made you gracious and thoughtful, and very well prepared.

“Thank you again.” Jeff nods, looking at both of you as he compares the boy he had last known and the man and father-to-be that stands in front of him. “We will speak later.”

“We shouldn’t keep Eddie and Allison waiting.” A squeeze of his hand reminds Max to walk with you, and you hurry upstairs quickly to avoid being spotted by your newly arriving guests.

“Any other surprises that I need to be aware of?” Max asks with a smirk as he keeps his hand on your back, just in case.

“I talked my grandfather into cutting his toast in half.” The grin on your face is unrepentant. At the first of your weddings, Yayo’s reception toast was early forty minutes long. “Surprise.”

Laughing, Max shakes his head. “Yeah but now, we might have to have a speech from my father.”

“I’m rather looking forward to it.” At the top of the stairs, you can hear your brother and sister-in-law in your bedroom, humming over flowers and such. “I love you, Max. Forever. And I take that promise very literally.”

“I love you too.” Max stops you and cups your cheek. “You continue to surprise me, and I will never take you for granted one day during our existence.”

******

There are things about returning to Tuxedo Park that make you very nostalgic in a way that you cannot express to anyone besides Max. You came here together for Emmanuel’s funeral, supporting your grieving mother as her friends. It had been his parents’ wish to bury him here on the property, and now a large weeping beech tree oversees a small family plot on one end of the acreage. The distant cousin Max hadn’t known was buried here also, and had stored generations of family heirlooms inside the many rooms of Pullman House.

Going through these rooms is a lot of organizational work, but thankfully you can do quite a bit of it sitting at the dining room table with JJ in his Grow-With-Me chair beside you, kicking at musical keys and playing with the knobs, soft toys, and multicolored rings that the stationary play station has for his little mind to engage with. He seems to like the house well enough – although he did not like the drive here – and is currently staring and babbling happily at the far corner of the room while you look through old staff records and maintenance books kept by the superintendent.

“Hey love.” Max breezes into the room, taking on the role of handyman seriously, complete with walking about the house in flannel shirts with the sleeves rolled up and a tool belt around his hips. Not that he was really using it right now, but you seem to enjoy the view.

“Hey Daddy.” You stretch your neck to invite a kiss and he leans over obligingly as your six-month-old gurgles happily a foot away. “Are your parents back from town yet?”

“Just pulled in.” He grins and presses his lips to yours several times. “How’s my favorite girl. And my little biter?”

“He’s got a favorite spot on the wall to babble at and I’m reading through staffing records. Apparently the house got hit hard by Spanish flu and lost a few people.” You bite your lip, almost hating to say his name, but you have to. “Emmanuel’s nieces both died, and a few members of staff.”

Max sighs softly. “It feels like he should walk through the door.” He admits quietly. “Asking if we have time to check a design he had built and give our opinions.”

“Is it weird that I’ve always wished I could introduce him to my father?” The two men your mother had loved definitely had had more in common than not. Which makes sense, of course, in that your mother had a type. “I just know they would have been friends.”

“It’s not strange.” Max shakes his head. “Just like you shouldn’t feel bad for loving Emmanuel like we did. I think they would have loved each other.”

“I don’t feel bad. I mean it took some adjusting to…to realize that I miss him as my friend and he very well could have been my father.” You shrug slightly, reaching out your fingers to adjust one of JJ’s toys in his chair. “Being here just brings it all back. I’m sure if we were in the house I grew up in, I’d be thinking about my Dad instead.”

“Of course you would.” Max nods seriously. “Have you thought about my offer?” He asks softly.

“I’ve been thinking about it a lot, actually.” Ever since reuniting with his parents and the birth of his son, Max has been fully family oriented. He’s been endlessly helpful in every aspect of adjusting the way you live to make way for more family, and that included a very generous suggestion a week ago. “I think I’d like it very much, honestly. Bringing Mom and Dad back to Newport seems…it seems right. The family plot at Island Cemetery has plenty of room and it would be nice to not feel so disconnected from them.”

“You would be able to visit her whenever you want.” Max agrees. You’ve visited your parents’ graves a few times, but it’s too far to travel now that JJ is here. “I will have all the arrangements made.”

“Thank you, love.” A half-smile graces your lips, which grows when JJ babbles at the corner again happily. “And when we’re here, we can visit Emmanuel.”

“What is he babbling at?” Max wonders, looking over at his son with a curious pride. “It’s like he’s talking to someone.”

“I don’t know, he’s been at it the whole time I’ve—” But turning your head to actually look at the area where your son is focused makes you almost swallow your tongue. “Oh gods…”

“What?” Max’s fangs descend in a flash and he’s speeding over to JJ to whisk him into his arms. He might be a little overprotective, but this is his son.

"Emmanuel?" The ghostly figure in the corner is unmistakable, his tousled hair and immaculate clothing exactly the way he looked in life, if significantly more transparent and...somewhat more sad.

“What?” This time Max’s eyes are wide, not fearful or protective, but confused. “What do you see?” He demands again, staring at the spot where JJ has been babbling.

"I see Emmanuel," you repeat again, more carefully, seeing the figure of your old friend looking back at you. "That...that is you, isn't it?" The fact that Max can't see him makes you think it must be your and JJ's witch's blood at work, and you stand up from your chair carefully. "Can you see me, too?"

"Oh..." The shadowy memory of Emmanuel sighs quietly. "I can see you. And hear you. It's...I didn't know you could see me," he admits.

“What’s he saying? Is he talking back?” Max asks, looking back and forth between the corner and you.

"He didn't know that we could see him," you explain to Max, tears brimming in your eyes to see your old friend again. "But I—I don't understand." When you look back to the corner, Emmanuel has taken a step forward. "How long have you been here? I had no idea someone who had been a vampire could become a ghost."

Max tilts his head as you seemingly talk to thin air, but Emmanuel has to be there if you say he is. “Since I was destroyed.” He admits quietly, eyes darting back and forth between you and Max. “But you are here and— Annie? She’s your mother?”

“I suppose there’s…a bit to explain.” You glance back at Max where he is holding JJ close to his chest and bouncing your son gently in his arms. “This is when we are originally from. One of my powers is the ability to time travel, and I brought us back to your time by accident. But…yes. Annie was my mother. And the Browns were actually my grandparents.” You smile softly, almost laughing in disbelief. “And this is our son, JJ. Who apparently could see you all day today and simply couldn’t tell me.”

Emmanuel bites his lip as he stares at you. “I— I thought I was doing the right thing.” He tells you, having had decades to reflect on his mistakes.

“So did my grandfather.” Although you nod, regret sticks in your throat as though you were somehow complicit in the decision to sire your mother’s soulmate purely because you didn’t stop it. “I know you didn’t mean to hurt her.”

“Is that what happened?” Emmanuel asks softly, frowning fiercely as he tries to remember those last moments. There was just a fog, a hunger he had never felt before and then seeing Annie’s eyes filled with regret and pain. Realizing she had staked him. “I— I could never hurt her. She is my world.”

“I know.” Magic isn’t merciful enough to let you touch him — hug him — to offer him comfort, but at least you can give your friend some kind of reassurance. “And Mom knew that, too. That it wasn’t you, when it happened.” Maybe that’s how he ended up a ghost, instead of moving on? You can’t be sure. “No one who ever saw you together could ever doubt how much you loved each other.”

“I— oh god.” He closes his eyes, pain etched across his face. “I hurt her. I— I just wanted to live through eternity with her. To give her the world. I would have never…” Regret laces his words, fills his tone and he wishes once again, that he had never changed.

“Emmanuel…” Cutting him off softly, you find yourself reaching out a hand to him even though you know you can’t touch him. It’s just instinct. “It’s—it’s done with. And…even if you had lived on? It’s…Annie died in a car accident when I was eighteen. She was still mortal, Emmanuel. Despite having such a long life. There’s just… there’s nothing that any of us can do sometimes to prevent tragedy. I know that might not be the most comforting thing in the world, but please don’t torture yourself thinking that she’s still walking the earth in pain.”

“She’s— Annie is gone?” He chokes out, the pain of knowing his soulmate no longer exists, blooming. He had thought he couldn’t feel the crushing pain of loss as a ghost after so many years of haunting Pullman House, but apparently he could. “Dolly— I— she’s gone?”

“I’m sorry.” Maybe you should have eased into the news a little, but you had honestly thought it would be comforting to know she wasn’t in pain anymore. “It’s been almost fifteen years now.”

“Why am I still here?” Emmanuel asks, unable to ask the question to anyone else since he has shown up here to haunt the halls.

“I don’t know.” You tell him honestly. “I’ve…you’re the first ghost I’ve ever met.”

He nods and his eyes slide over to Max and JJ. “Is he—?” He asks, eyes longing as they look at the child. The child that in his mind, should be his grandchild. “Are you happy?”

It almost feels rude to tell him just how happy you really are, but there is such a small chance that knowing your family is happy and healthy might actually help him somehow — and you cannot lie to your friend. Not anymore. You’ve already kept so much from him. “Yes,” you nod, knowing that Max is right behind you with JJ in his arms and that every moment your family has together is not to be taken for granted. “We’re still very happy.”

“Good.” Emmanuel smiles and looks back at the baby again. “Your son?” He asks. “He’s bright. He saw me right away.”

“He’s six months old today.” You can’t help the immensely proud way you beam when talking about your son. JJ is your pride and joy and you absolutely will talk about him from dawn until dusk. “Seeing you is…it’s the first sign of magic he’s shown. And I’m so very glad.”

“Does he...need blood?” He asks curiously.

“Some.” And you’re grateful you had been prepared for that, otherwise it would have been a very rude awakening. “But according to Cookie, Annie stopped needing blood after she stopped growing.”

“And you?” He asks, curious as to what you experienced as a child. “Did you need blood?”

“Not that I remember.” It isn’t impossible that you were given it as a baby and simply don’t remember, but even with your memory as clear as it is you don’t recall any sippy cups of blood in your childhood. “But I do take some of Max’s now. To prolong my life.”

“That is good.” Emmanuel nods. “You deserve a long life. You were always so kind to me. Even if you obviously knew what my fate was.”

“You loved my mother.” It’s as simple as that, to you at least, and again you just desperately wish you could hug him. “And you were a wonderful friend to Max and to me. You deserve as much kindness as every other good person in the world. I’m just…I’m very glad that I could be one of the people you find it in.”

“I am sorry.” Emmanuel murmurs softly. “For all the pain I cause your mother.” He’s had plenty of time to regret his change and now that he knows that he had hurt her, he is even more so.

“I wish it didn’t torture you the way it does.” It’s a sort of vain hope…or least a far-fetched one, but it is honest. “We are all of us only human, after all. Even witches and even vampires. We still make all the same mistakes and have all the same feelings.”

“I just hope that she was happy.” Emmanuel confesses. “After my time with her had ended.”

“In my memories of her, she was very happy.” It would be cruel to harp on the fact that your father was a good man and a good partner for her, and you won’t mention him at all, but you do smile reflexively. “Life when I was growing up was simple, and quiet, and happy. I can promise you that.”

“Good.” He smiles, nodding at the imagery you are producing. “That is all I can ask for.”

“You should know.” Stepping away from the topic of your mother or his regret for a moment is the gentlest thing you can think of in this moment. “Max and I…we’re helping his parents restore this house. They own it now. So we’ll be here, in and out, from now on.”

“Truly?” His eyes light up, delighted to maybe have company at some points during his existence as a ghost. “Would you— perhaps we could talk more? Not always, but some moments when you have time?”

“Of course we can talk more. And as JJ gets older, he’ll be able to talk to you, too.” His joy makes your heart ache, just like the very idea that you might not want to talk to him is absurd. “We’ve missed you, Emmanuel. Very much.”

“I’ve missed you too.” He promises with a small, sardonic smirk. “Although it’s amusing that Max cannot see me.”

“We’ll have to talk about him while he’s in the room,” you tease, throwing a grin back at your soulmate. “It will drive him crazy.”

“Don’t you dare talk about me.” Max huffs, frowning fiercely at the idea.

"Love you, babe." A grin over your shoulder tells him you're only teasing.

Max huffs and rolls his eyes. “Keep it up and I’ll start calling you ‘Manny’.” He threatens his old friend, not meaning a word of it.

“You’ll do that anyway,” Emmanuel replies, knowing his friend can’t hear him but enjoying the comfort that you can. You’re the first person to ever see him and actually hear what he says and it’s more comforting than he can possibly say.

“He says you’ll do that anyway,” you pass the message along with a grin.

Max tries to look innocent but fails miserably when he grins. “True.” He snorts and steps closer to the corner with the baby in his arms. “I can’t see you, but I’m glad that you’re— not gone.” He settles for that and shrugs. “I don’t know what to call it, but I’ve missed our billiards games.”

“It’s hard to play billiards without a body,” Emmanuel chuckles. “But maybe your wife will be kind enough to help us play chess.”

“He says I should help you play chess.” Translating between them makes you smile. Something you never expected but it warms your heart. “And I happily agree.”

“We will have to do it.” Max nods and gives a small chuckle. “No cheating though. I know you.”

That makes you snicker, but you hold up both hands in innocence. “I promise I won’t help him cheat,” you vow, wiggling your fingers in his direction. “Now, can I hold our son, please?”

“Sure.” Now that there’s no danger, Max has no problem handing over JJ to you. The boy goes easily, babbling happily and pointing at the corner.

"Sweetheart, I want you to meet somebody." Cooing to your son, you press a kiss to JJ's forehead and carry him a little closer to where Emmanuel is standing, past the table and past the chairs you had been sitting on all day. "This is Uncle Emmanuel." How much of what you're telling him is actually sinking into his curious little mind, you can't be sure. At six months old, he's definitely not piecing together a family tree in his mind. "He lives here, so we're going to be very nice to his house, okay Bud?" Picking up his little hand in yours, you grin when your son giggles approvingly. "Wave hi, Bud! Hi Uncle Emmanuel!"

JJ has learned to wave and he throws his entire body into it. Babbling and gurgling with a giant grin on his face as he damn near wiggles out of your arms.

If Emmanuel could still cry, he would have tears in his eyes. But as it is, the emotion sticking in his throat gives him away. “He is a blessing.” He manages to say, regarding the little boy in your arms.

“Yes.” You will agree to that every time, and never contest it for even a moment. “He absolutely is.”

******

Despite it being over 100 years of you sleeping beside him while he stays awake, Max doesn’t leave the bed. Too content to hold you as your breathing is nice and slow. Unless JJ is fussy and then he leaves you sleeping to handle the baby. He slips out of the bed as you groan and turn over to hug his pillow.

Your dreams have gotten slightly stranger since starting to take Max’s blood — the strangest were during pregnancy, but thank the gods that’s over — but it wouldn’t be uncommon to dream of magic or anthropomorphic anything or even create entire other universes in your mind. That makes this dream, as Max slips out of bed to rock your fussy son in his arms, all the more remarkable for being normal. Just a dream of your grandparents and parents sitting around a table playing cards like nothing had ever happened between them.

Your grandfather is the first to notice you, turning and smiling at you, just like he had your entire childhood when he visited you in your dreams. “Muñeca, you have come.” He stands and waves you over to the group.

“Yayo?” It isn’t the first time you’ve dreamt of your grandfather since he left this life, but it feels so much more real. “Am I late?”

He shakes his head and moves to gather you into a hug. “You are just on time. Come. There are others who have waited so long to see you again.”

You can see your family in the room, but at your grandfather’s bidding it’s like a veil lifts and you step further into the dining room at Chateau-sur-Mer to see your parents beaming at you as your abuela starts to deal you into their card game.

“Come sit with us.” Cookie hums in delight. “It has been so long since I have talked to you, my darling.”

“Are you…” Aware of your grandfather’s power, you don’t hesitate to go to the table, but you do look back at him before reaching out to hug your grandmother. “Are you all really here?” You ask, already choked up at the idea of it.

“After death, hard feelings are not nearly as important as family.” Annie admits, reaching out and taking your hand when you sit down. “I have so much to apologize for, sweetheart. So much.”

“You did what you thought was right, Mom.” Being able to see her again — touch her — call her Mom instead of Annie? It’s such a gift. It’s more than you ever dared to ask for, even knowing what is possible in the world. On her other side, though, you fly out of your chair to go to your father. It’s been the longest since you saw him, let alone spoke to him, because talking to the photos on your vanity at home don’t count as much.

“Hey pumpkin.” The fact that you are grown makes no difference as your father folds you into his arms and pulls you onto his lap for a hug like you are still six years old. “I have missed you so much. Been watching over you.”

“I miss you, Dad.” Such easy words to say, even as they shake through you, and you cling to him for a hug. “I miss all of you, but…gods I’m so sorry I didn’t come to see you when I was in the past. I was terrified of changing the timeline.”

“Honey, we understand.” Your father reassures you, kissing your forehead like he would have when comforting you from a bad dream. “I am just glad you got to see your mother. Your grandparents.” He pulls back and smiles at you. “Now you get to see me.”

“I wish you could’ve met Max.” Looking up and casting your eyes around the table, you soften again. “And JJ. Yayo is the only one who got to meet JJ, and you would all love him so much.”

“We’ve met JJ.” Your father admits with a smile. “Dreams, just like now, with you.”

“You can…with JJ?” It shouldn’t surprise you, not after last week’s revelation that your six-month-old can already see ghosts, but you smile in relief. “Good. I’m glad he’ll get to dream of his family.”

“We won’t monopolize his dreams.” Cookie promises. “Just drop in from time to time.”

“How are you still able to visit us?” This question is for Yayo, who is quietly looking through his hand off cards with a small smile. “If you…passed on? How do you still have your powers?”

“We are waiting.” Yayo tells you simply. “For Emmanuel.”

“Then I think you might be waiting for a while,” you tell him, guilt creeping into your voice as you look around the table. “He’s…he didn’t cross over. We’re at Pullman House right now. And he’s still here.”

“He has to forgive himself first.” Annie murmurs, looking sadly over at your father and then at you. “But he will. And then we will all be together.”

"He's heartbroken that he hurt you." It's so important for your mother to know this. To completely wrap her head around it, even if you understand that she probably forgave him long ago. "He barely even remembers when it happened. We've...talked through it. Extensively." Call it Ghost Therapy, but you had been hoping that trying to remember might somehow help him move on.

“Tell him that I— we— are waiting for him.” Annie requests, looking over at her husband, your father, and smiling. “Your father is looking forward to knowing the man that I loved before him. That I still love.”

“I…always thought you would be such good friends if you could meet.” It feels odd to admit it to your father, but it’s honest. It’s how you’ve felt since very early on after meeting Emmanuel.

“I know we would be.” Your father chuckles and looks at Annie lovingly. “She has told me about her soulmate.”

“Did they…tell you about Max, too?” It might be selfish, to wonder if they’ve talked about you and your happiness — but this is your family. Your parents and grandparents. In your heart your hope they’re at least happy for you.

“Absolutely.” He assures you with a proud smile. “I’ve watched how he cares for you, loves you.” He bites his lip. “He’s the kind of man I always hoped you would be with.”

“I wish you could visit him, too.” You admit, smiling softly. “But he doesn’t dream. Or sleep, really.”

“Yes, he’s too busy watching over his family.” Your grandmother hums in approval.

“You made a good choice, Yayo.” Of that, you can assure him. “Eddie and Allison are doing so well.”

“They are, aren’t they?” He smiles the satisfied little smirk of contentment before he picks up Cookie’s hand and kisses the back of it. “They are made for it, so I have cashed in one last favor from the devil.”

“Oh?” To hear that he had any left at all is a surprise, and you sit up at the table.

“Yes.” He hums, arching his brow and letting the moment sit just a touch longer for the dramatic effect. “They will walk the earth for eternity as soulmates.”

“Yayo.” The well of tears behind your eyes is instant, tears spilling over onto your cheeks as you think of how much that will mean to them. “You—they’ll be ecstatic,” you sniffle, wiping away the dripping tears.

“I thought they would like my last gift to them.” He nods, and holds up a finger. “But tell them that they should still treat every day as if they have just discovered each other.”

“I promise I’ll tell them.” Is it possible they don’t know yet? That it hasn’t happened? You’re certain that Allison would have called if she and Eddie had suddenly gained each other’s marks on any random afternoon. “And…” you look to your mother but have to wipe tears away all over again. “I’ll talk to Emmanuel. To tell him it’s time to finally forgive himself. Because you forgave him a long time ago.”

“I wish for him to enjoy this eternity with us.” Annie adds, nodding happily that you understand and there seems to be no hard feelings.

“I’ll tell him,” you promise again. For all the lifetimes that you knew your mother — whether she was your mother or your friend Annie — you have been able to love her through all of them. It’s oddly gratifying that you’ll be able to send her soulmate to her now. So that she can be loved all the more.

“Thank you, love.” Annie beams at you. “I am so grateful that you came back to visit during my youth. That I know you as the woman you are as well as my baby girl.”

“I’m sorry we couldn’t tell you while we were there.” It would have been too much. Too complicated and too risky. But at least you had been able to know your mother for many more years.

“Oh sweetheart, I understand.” Your mother shakes her head and gives you a sad smile. “It would have changed things if I had known. And while I wish that I had not made mistakes, I did. I just hope you can forgive me for them.”

“I don’t think there’s a single person at this table who hasn’t tried a little too hard to protect the people they love.” Too much pressure, spellbinding, and accidental time travel all seem to be varying levels of the same misguided leaps into protection. It seems to be a family trait. “I understand why you did it. I’d do anything to protect JJ, too.”

“Just don’t repeat the mistakes we have made.” Yayo cautions you wisely. “Learn from our follies so you can make all new mistakes.”

You can’t help but laugh at that. The idea of all new mistakes being both daunting and very realistic. “I’m sure we will. That’s parenthood, isn’t it?”

“Of course it is.” All of the adults chuckle, well aware of their own parental mistakes and your father strokes your back gently. “You are a good mother. You will be for all the children to come.”

“I hope it will be several,” you admit with a grin. “I’m really enjoying motherhood.”

“It will be.” Yayo confirms with a knowing smirk. He has his ways of knowing that his family will be happy and healthy for generations to come.

******

The sun rises right into your bedroom window at Pullman House, bringing you out of your dream gently but without question. The baby monitor is gone from the nightstand on your side of the bed and your husband is nowhere in sight, so he must have gotten up with JJ in the night to make sure you could sleep. Sometimes he’s fussy for blood and sometimes for a bottle, but either way Max is able to take care of him.

They’re sitting together, father and son, at the table in the breakfast room when you come downstairs in your favourite old t-shirt and jeans after taking a steaming hot shower. Any chance to actually take a lengthy shower and feel human again is not something to be undervalued as a new mom, you have found.

JJ squeals happily at the sight of you and you sweep into the room to scoop him up out of his seat. “Hey Bud,” you croon, kissing his little forehead before leaning over to kiss Max as well. “Were you good for Daddy this morning?”

“Say ‘of course I was, Mommy’.” Max answers for him. “Nothing short of perfect, my son.” He winks at you playfully. “Takes after his father.”

“Mmhmm.” Even if you smirk skeptically, it’s full of nothing but love. “So that means he wanted blood last night, then?”

“So much that I’ve been thinking of creating a ‘Little Biters’ line of baby products.” He snorts jokingly. “The mascot of the line will be Cutie.”

“Mommy’s little menace,” you tease, placing another kiss on JJ’s head before moving around the kitchen to pour yourself a bowl of cereal. “I…had a dream last night.” Looking back over your shoulder, you shoot Max a meaningful look. “A family dream.”

“Really?” Max straightens up and his brow furrows slightly. He’s curious at the timing, especially since Emmanuel’s appearance. “What was it about?”

“Yayo had some messages to deliver.” Your grandfather’s mastery of the dramatic never ends. “I played cards with my grandparents and my parents and we talked.”

“Bridge?” Max asks, having spent many hours playing with your mother and grandmother back in the day.

“Of course.” The smirk on your face is because you got very good at the game over the decades. To the point where you were almost better than your abuela. “Dad and I switched out. Apparently he never quite mastered it the way you did.”

“Was this….a visit? Or a dream?” He asks seriously, knowing that stranger things are possible. He’s currently feeding one of them.

“It was a visit.” The distinct, you grant him, is important. “Apparently Yayo still has a little pull where it matters. Don’t I think this will be the last one.”

Max chuckles and shakes his head affectionately. “Of course the old bastard does.” He huffs.

“They told me they’re waiting.” The reality of it feels heavy, weighing on your shoulders like Atlas balancing the world. “They haven’t crossed over yet because they don’t want to leave Emmanuel behind.”

“That’s…sweet.” Max admits, his expression soft and yearning. He has been a little put out that he can’t see his old friend, but you have been enjoying talking to him. “Very sweet.”

"You know the old chestnut about ghosts having unfinished business?" With a bowl of cereal now in hand and enough milk to satisfy you, you sit down at the table with Max and set JJ back down in his own seat. "Mom says Emmanuel has to forgive himself so he can move on."

“Yeah?” Max shakes his head. “How are you going to convince him to do that?” He asks. “Although, telling him that Annie is waiting for him is a good start.”

"Hopefully being able to tell him directly from Mom that she has already forgiven him will give him the permission he feels like he needs to forgive himself." It's your best theory, anyway, and the fact that your friend has been so tortured over what happened for more than a century grieves you in a way you didn't know what possible. "Dad wants to meet him. Wants to wait for him, too. It’s...actually incredibly sweet."

“I told you it was.” He huffs at you playfully, reaching out and taking your hand. “Were you happy to see all of them together? Especially your dad? Since you didn’t get more time with him?”

"It was really nice to see Dad." To see him, to hug him, even if it was only in your dream. Dreams in your family have always been a little more intense anyway – but visitations are step above and beyond. "I think..." You glance up at your soulmate with a little grin. "Maybe we name the next little boy after him?"

“Next little boy?” Max perks up, considering you haven’t really talked about having more kids, and you had cursed him blue while in labor with JJ.

"I'm not saying giving birth was my favorite leisure day or anything." You snort at the idea, letting yourself enjoy a bite of your breakfast while you chuckle silently over the very idea. "But Yayo heavily implied a little insight into the timeline, and the fact that JJ will have at least a couple of siblings at some point."

“Can we start making them now?” Max asks, waggling his brows at you suggestively.

Shoving Max's arm playfully at the table, you make a soft if slightly non-committal noise at him and have another bite of your breakfast. You haven't been intimate since JJ was born and that's the longest you've gone in your entire relationship, but the doctor had been adamant that you needed time to heal and Max had agreed to follow medical advice without hesitation. "Let's see what the doc says when we get back to Newport," you tell him, that beaming grin overtaking your face again. "It took a hundred years to get JJ. Who knows how long we'll have to wait for the next?"

“That’s a hell of an age gap.” Max snorts, imagining JJ as a grandfather and becoming a big brother at the same time.

"It would be," you agree, laughing almost to yourself in silent little huffs. "Hopefully it won't take as long next time."

“Whenever you’re ready.” Max insists. He had even suggested wearing condoms when you were ready to have sex again.

"I love you." As many children as you many or may not have, as many different houses as you may live in, and as many decades or centuries as will ever pass between you -- this is the thing that holds it all together. The fuel that keeps your life going is right here at this table. And you can't help but be caught up in it a little when he slides his hand into yours and smiles. "Come on," you urge, pushing your cereal bowl away and nodding toward the belly of the house. "Come dance with me." It wouldn't be the first time he's twirled you around the dance floor at eight in the morning and you're sure it won't be the last, because the two of you never seem to tire of the waltz.

______

Master Tags: @pixiedurango @chattychell @winter-fox-queen @lady-himbo @artsymaddie @princess76179 @paintballkid711 @missminkylove @pedrosbrat @ew-erin @sarahjkl82-blog @sharkbait77 @justanotherblonde23 @lv7867 @recklesswit @mylittlesenaar @f0rever15elf @gallowsjoker @steeevienicks @athalien @sherala007 @skvatnavle @thatpinkshirt @jaime1110 @girlimjusttryingtoreadfanfics @goodgriefitsawildworld @greeneyedblondie44 @littlemousedroid @harriedandharassed @churchill356 @ajathegreats-blog @haylzcyon   @beardsanddetectives @kirsteng42 @ladykatakuri @adancedivasmom @madiebear @tanzthompson @emilianamason @bigsdinger @xocalliexo @pedr0swh0r3 @avaleineandafryingpan @charlyrmv @avidreader73 @iceclaw101 @loveslide @elegantduckturtle @becsworld @julesonrecord @its-nebuleuse @itsrubberbisquit @mikeyswifie @guelyury @lizzie-cakes @for-a-longlongtime @vabeachazn @purplerain04 @weho2kcmo @madnessofadaydreamer

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My Masterlist!

#Pedro Pascal #Pedro Pascal character fanfiction #Pedro Pascal fanfic #Max Phillips #Max Phillips x you #Max Phillips x reader #Max Phillips x female reader #Max Phillips x f!reader #Bloodsucking Bastards #soulmate au #Eddie BtVS #mysterious inheritance #time travel #witches #vampires

[lets-curse-each-other]

"Money doesn't stink", or analysis of Mei Mei

Mei Mei's second name is "paradox". Almost every scene with her is a mixture of socially accused features and humanly approved virtues. We're getting acquainted with her during the Goodwill Event with Kyoto and our character perception changes within a few seconds:

she praises Maki - positive attitude:

she is actually corrupted - negative attitude:

The "simplicity" of Mei's aims and reasons could seem so petty 'cause they don't inspire, don't raise moral or aren't dramatic after all. She loves money, she works for it and does extra tasks only if she's well paid - nothing more. Similar situation was with Nobara:

I didn't like living in the middle of nowhere so I came to the city! This was the only way for me to move to Tokyo.

In ch. 5 Itadori represents the readers; he awaits to hear about tragic circumstances and grand higher purposes and gets ordinary wishes, human desires. "I'm not a hero, I'm a jujutsu sorcerer", remember? Gege is perhaps mocking (with respect of course) at the great anime titles (you know these guys, Naruto, Bleach, etc.) where the majority of characters are pompous in their achieving goals, usually these goals have dark and tear-jerking bases. It's not very human actually. I don't attempt to say that people in reality can't possess noble motives, however usually (USUALLY!) we're striving for common, necessary (or not), nice trinkets, not for "I WILL SAVE ALL THE PEOPLE BECAUSE I'M THE AMBASSADOR OF THE GOOD". Let's be honest, as well as we, Mei is just a human who is happy as fuck when sees her bank account has been replenished.

Nevertheless, she later helps the students with promotion by her (!) initiative. Mei doesn't take advantage from it, she's just admitted their skills without any prejudices and does them a favor. It could be the action of kindness or pragmatism because it's better for the sorcerers to accomplish missions according to their abilities and not stay on the plateau. Perhaps there was a possibility that Mei felt some kind of solidarity to Maki because their sorcery paths were alike, in a way. However, let's not forget her dogma: service potential is life itself for me. So for her courtesy she probably would expect from Maki reciprocal benefits.

She, surprisingly, isn't arrogant. Mei easily accepts others' suggestions (like with Utahime in Gojo's flashbacks), positively reacts to different plans and ideas, admits achievements and pays compliments:

"The Shibuya Incident" also shows Mei's contradictory character. We're getting used to her practical interests (even in her own family) and view on life as the goldmine of possibilities to get profit from everything and everybody, that observing such sincere empathy of her is really beyond our understanding. It's suspicious and confusing. Nice of Gege to not focus on one bright trait but to extend the personality further. That method helps readers always be a little bit shocked when there's this kind of a sharp transition: from "interested only in money venal person" to "caring, attentive and trustworthy fellow".

As far as concerned her past, Mei is likely from some minor jujutsu clan if taking into account the info from databook that the enrollment method was family lineage and Ui Ui's words about her "using family for employment". Howbeit, she inherited the cursed technique too weak to use alone, that forced her to train her physical abilities and develope skills of enhancing the body with cursed energy. Unfortunately (or luckily), she faced obstacles again: her body had a limit. She found strength to get back to basics, to her worthless at first sight inherited technique. Ironically, the thing that was useless at the beginning helped her to become a grade 1 sorcerer. It is necessary to admit how her highlight, main attack, reflects her life mottos in the best way. Are you ready to imperil yourself for me? Could i gain benefits from your sacrifice? Is your life able to help me in my aims?

Here there is a gist of her sympathy to Maki during the Goodwill Event. She realized how much effort, stubbornness Maki put into her achieving such excellent results without cursed techniques, not talking about mockeries and disrespect that the girl has to endure. In this aspect they are similar.

While on the subject of family and the Goodwill Event, I've been rereading ch. 40 (Mei's first appearance) several times and only now, as an afflatus, i realize that she could mean the connections between relatives/family traditions and its members. For her these formal bounds don't make sense at all. Everything should have its value, everything has a price. The idea is hard-nosed and unsentimental, but, you know, i like it in some way. I think you're familiar with a situation when you're obliged to do something for people just because these people are called your relatives. Mei's credo denies it. No profit, hence no efforts. Fair.

The battle between her and Kenjaku remained behind the scenes. And next time we see Mei (ch.133), her "betrayal" is obvious. I'm using quotation marks because, honestly, she acted logically, didn't change her businesslike habits. Mei Mei and her brother somehow could escape from Kenjaku, survived, and she immediately calculated the situation, grasped the outcomes of the Shibuya Incident and its winner and took the steps. Mei left the battlefield and her comrades fighting, but she and Ui Ui stayed alive. Therewith, her predicting the final, Mei saw no point in endeavors that would put her and her brother on the line.

Despite this, Mei does not avoid tragic consequences, in chapter 190 it is said that Ui Ui (most likely by the order of the elder sister) helps sorcerers in the colonies. I like how Noritoshi describes this type of relationship between Mei and the jujutsu society:

Risk diversification is the process of investing across a range of industries and categories. This ensures that even if some assets perform poorly, other areas can completely or in part cover the loss (source).

Diversification of risk is, therefore, a tactic to balance between maximising returns and minimising risks (source).

The siblings don't be in a hurry to jump into the deep end, despite the fact how tensed the situation is. They keep the distance, carefully help from comfortable positions, contribute gradually and cautiously. They will venture only when the game is worth the candle. Having such controversial characters on the side of good adds this very side more human features and realness. So I'm looking forward to see these guys' next actions.

#jujutsu kaisen #jjk #jujutsu kaisen meta #jjk meta #jujutsu kaisen analysis #jjk analysis #jujutsu kaisen mei mei #jjk mei mei #mei mei

[scalamore]

Chapter 98-99 - Rupert's Wish (spoilers)

There we have it. As of this chapter, Rupert may not have realized it completely, but his [wish] has changed. It is no longer [to become Emperor], but it is [to be with Lari].

Over and over since he found out he would be CP and eventually Emperor Rupert has been stressed how [his wish] of becoming Emperor is so close, but he finds absolutely no joy in it, and he doesn't know what to do for the rest of his life afterwards (Ch 76, 86). He doesn't understand why that is - but it's because it's not his own wish. He's a very earnest guy - he loved his mother and wanted to do anything for her, and inherited her wish, but ultimately, it is still Eva's wish, not his. So he doesn't find any joy in it at all. So now with the news he will become Emperor, he's achieved his goal FINALLY, all his hard work paid off... what now? After leaving the Emperor's palace and wandering in the snow for a while, he instinctively knows what he wants - he wants to see Lari right now. He's cold, not from the snow and frigid air, but his heart just feels so empty and cold right now. But he had a feeling, that the place Lari would be at, right now, would be warm. So instead of going to his own room which is heavily guarded and most secure, as news of the Emperor's death would spread quickly and they would attack his palace, his only thought is to reach Lari quickly and stay with her to make sure she was safe in case the enemies targeted her too.

Ultimately, Lari's honest wish for him hits deep:

Why on earth then, would he want to continue this mission that was entrusted to him by someone who was already dead?

He's the one who's alive with his entire future ahead of him, and has to think of what to do next.

At this moment at his lowest, he doesn't care about being Emperor. With her beside him trying to comfort and reassure him, the feelings he's tried to suppress since Ch 63 and 86 are resurfacing - He wants her.

He vaguely knows she’s very important to him, he wants to protect her, he wants to be beside her, and he wants her to keep smiling, but he’s stuck because of two main things:  1) he thinks she hates him still, and  2) he’s scared of getting closer because he doesn’t want to be like Crazy Emperor and be possessive of her, making her hate him more.

He doesn't want to fall under the Emperor's curse of wanting to possess her - he refuses to - so after contemplating, he's made his decision in Ch 99- he'll do what he can to make her happy, his own way. He'll continue to treasure her. He'll fulfill all of her wishes, anything she asks for, in the hopes that she'll choose to stay at the palace with him.

Rupert doesn’t understand the concept of [Love] right now. He sees the [love] the Emperor had for Eva, and that was to obsessively possess her because he had the power to do so. They were married, she was empress, but that’s a meaningless title. It was a one-sided assault on her for years, all in the name for his [love] for her. Rupert currently doesn’t understand that people do fall in love and can have a reciprocated romance. While he fears becoming like the Emperor, he doesn't realize that he's fundamentally different: He's always cherished Lari like a person, and not an object. He cares about Lari's happiness and her well-being. He's never forced her to do anything against her will. And that is how she was able to fall in love with him, who had always treated her with such kindness and respect in TL2.

(Vol 6 Spoilers) ---->

Also, he clearly knows that his own mother had no [love] for him. She used him to fulfill her goals, but as her child, of course he loves his own mother because she's the only person he had. He thinks that if his own mother didn’t love him, who even told him that no one will ever love him when he’s alive (like… what the heck Eva…), how on earth can someone so kind, warm, and genuinely nice like Lari fall in love with him too? Besides, he still thinks that no matter how nice Lari is to him right now, she hates him (based on his initial impression from all the hatred she emanated when she first entered the palace at 12)

With that, Rupert is content with just [loving] Lari one-sidedly. He doesn’t expect her to return his feelings, but he’s happy if she’s happy. ;___;. He doesn't even think about admitting his feelings for her (because he doesn’t realize that he likes her in that way) until its too late. While Lari imagined them being in a relationship in Ch 88 made her super embarrassed and uncomfortable, Rupert never even thought of that possibility. Even Tory and Louis look at him with pity because it's just that obvious he loves her that much when it's so uncertain if Lari will ever return his feelings :((((

---- By this time, Tory's fears have become a reality:

He simply wants Lari to be happy. He's happiest being around a Lari who is happy and healthy. Rupert completely trusts and cherishes Lari as much as his own life. He prioritizes her, and will give her anything she wants. He may be the Emperor, but there is no way he can fulfill their mission of destroying the Empire, because Lari won't be happy with that. And Rupert is unable to do anything that Lari hates. So what now? Tory already knows how much Rupert loves Lari while he himself isn't quite aware yet.... --- On an off note, I LOVE THIS PANEL SO MUCH. IT WAS SUPER SHORT, but Rupert really enjoyed the time in Belois. Particularly, this is her outfit in Ch 94, when she was teasing him about feeling upset that she didn't care for him like she did for HER BELOVED YOUNGER BROTHER, WHO IS STILL A CHILD.

Also, Rupert considers Lari as someone who is warm and inviting. He first thought that in Ch 91, but he’s thought that for a while now too~~ Lari in this panel is just so cute and soft and fluffy and sparking and warmmmmmmmmmm. OF COURSE Rupert would want to walk towards her when she's just that inviting --!

#your majesty please spare me this time #rupelali #manhwa #rofan

[summerspice222]

Something Royal Blue: a Selection story ch 1 (read on wattled for more)

My family had been financially unstable for as long as I could remember. But, when we got the Selection letter from the palace, they assumed that we could coast our way through our problems and I could find love at the same time. 

We weren't surviving off of three meals a day like some families in Whites were, we would occasionally skip a dinner or two a week just to save extra money for taxes, bills, and whatnot. That's all I'd known since I was four or five years old when the caste systems had been disassembled. I didn't know what life was like all over the country, but it was even more difficult to feel equal with everyone in Whites. Not many people easily adjusted to "equality" that was bestowed among us. Former Two's would refuse to pay their taxes, they complained that the tax rate was too high. While former Sixes were struggling to keep the heat on during the coldest months. 

Mom says that the disassembling of the castes was needed with the dangerous rebellion against the royal family. But honestly, I'm not sure much changed. Queen America's work of disassembling the castes was, and still is, heavily applauded by many people. But there are still outbursts and riots in the streets. People saying that the next step to equality is to take down the monarchy.

Mom says that the rebellion is starting again, but this time no one wants to maim or distract the crown. They only want to hurt it.

"Those vigilantes had almost killed King Maxon." My mother would curse whenever we'd hear about the 'new rebellion'. She would shake her head and say "Somehow, the lack of the caste system convinces the people of Illea that there is still a social hierarchy. Those former twos need to get up to date with the times."

These days, Five's weren't confined to artistry and Three's weren't confined to education. Everyone in the country got to choose their profession by the time they turned 18, but we were all taxed at the same rate. Leaving the poor and starving even more poor and starving, and allowing the wealthier families to add a 'tax day' to their calendars. 

Unfortunately for me, my family stuck with the inherited jewelry business. According to dad, sticking with the business our family passed down for generations helped us "stick to our roots". This earned us substantial amounts of money, along with occasional commissions from high paying customers. Since Whites is always packed with snow, I trained skiers on the side for some extra money to bring home.

But when dad got sick, we started drowning in hospital bills and treatment plans. To overnight hospital stays and radiation therapy. The doctors sucked up thousands of dollars from my family, all pooled into an empty drain. Nothing could fix how sick dad was.

When we got the letter, my mom shoved it in my hands and sternly suggested that I should fill it out. Even Amber, my older sister, knew that mom really meant that I had to fill it out or I she'd loathe me for the months to come. 

My mom and I don't agree on much, but strangely I agreed with her about the Selection. I believed that signing up for it would help our current financial problems and save us from having to sell our house. But, my family doesn't realize that I do have standards, I'm not willingly going to throw myself onto a prince with 31 other girls. 

Though I had never met him, Prince Kaden had the tendency to come off as proper and uninteresting. Every week when my family sat and watched The Report, my older sister Amber liked to note that, "he looks like he's sitting with a stick up his ass". 

In my head, there are many pro's and con's to even entering the Selection. Con, I don't want to attempt fall in love with someone I don't know and presents himself as bland as toast. Con, I can't ski in Angeles (not that it really mattered, but it was needed on the list). Con, there was no way I'd make it past the first week in the palace. I tend to make a mess no matter where I end up. Pro, the palace gave money to your family once a week if you were selected. Pro, I could help pull my family up with me. I took that as my only positive spin on this whole situation. 

The thought of the Selection just made my head spin. Why would the royal family let 32 girls, who are just regular citizens and total strangers, stay in their home. Let alone watch their son and brother date 32 girls all at once. 

Many of the girls in Whites adored the prince and had been hoping for years that he'd hold a Selection. I'd always overhear the "prince chatter" while I was on the slopes. My coworkers would often drop Prince Kaden's name into conversation when they were debriefing The Report. From my perspective, it seemed that all of the women of Whites would give their lives to be in the presence of a royal. 

I denied that Prince Kaden would even have a Selection. He was second in line for the throne, after his sister, Queen Eadlyn. The Queen had been married for about 5 years now and I thought it was odd that Queen Eadlyn and King Erik hadn't produced an heir yet. Not that I was waiting for them to, but any child of theirs would be able to assume the throne.

I hid in my room when I heard that other girls were receiving their letters. It was one of my anxiety habits, whenever a problem occurred in my life, I'd tuck myself away until the problem was gone. Or at least I tried to.

I sat at my desk, which was positioned in front of my bedroom window. A cold draft blew into my room due to the lack of insolation in the house. I didn't care though, I just loved the view from it. I could see the buildings of the small village I lived in, the square, the mountain lodge, into the frosty tundra that I called home. 

Whites was beautiful and just like the province's name suggested, it was very, very environmentally white. On a good year, it snowed 263 days out of the 365 days in a year. The fishing families ended up ice-fishing in the winter months and, thankfully, ski coaches were employed all year round.

I tapped a pen against my design pad. A high paying customer was expecting mock-ups of an engagement ring by the end of the week, they'd offered me over 200 Illean dollars to get the design finished within a week. 

As I finished sketching the ring, I heard footsteps approach my door. I was good at listening to the shuffling that occurred within my household. It was cozy enough to hear conversations echo in rooms, to hear doors open and close, and it gave no member of my family the perfect amount of privacy anywhere. If there was a secret to tell, there would be a high chance that my family already knew about it. 

Amber knocked on my door the way she always did, with three brief musical taps. "Maddisyn! I know you're hauling yourself up in your room to avoid it'' 

My sister knew all of my tendencies. She especially paid attention to the negative ones, like avoiding my problems and consuming myself in my work. I'm not completely sure she saw any good tendencies in me. 

Sighing, I stood up from my desk and walked over to the door. For all my life, Amber was never one to let herself into a room unless she knocked. I always ask why she doesn't just walk in, we're family after all. She claimed that she always knocks because it's polite. However, I assume it's because she's still traumatized from walking in on her twin, Asher, having sex when they were just teenagers. 

I spun my chair to look over at Amber. "What am I avoiding?"

"Your letter," Amber rolled her eyes and pointed to the thick envelope resting on my bed. "It's been sitting there for three days Maddi"

"Wow...has it really been that long because I swore I just got it-" 

"I already have mine filled out. I finished it last night" Amber wore a wide smile. She was 20, two years older than me. If she was a year older, she would be unable to participate in the Selection. For her, signing up would mean she saw the Selection as a way to escape the jewelry store and possibly start over. Knowing my sister, of course she'd hop on the first opportunity to rearrange her life. 

"Amber," I grumbled. "I'm waiting until mom gets home to open my letter, I've told you this multiple times" 

My sister's smile turned to a smirk. "It must be that time of month for you Maddi. Hopefully the prince can handle your bitchy attitudes. If you even get Selected, that is." Amber turned on her heel and practically skipped to her room to rinse a day in the design studio off of her. 

I stared at my letter once again, it had been sitting there for days. Even though Amber had already opened hers, I wanted to know if mine was any different. The white envelope had blue floral designs around the perimeter. My name was printed in neat calligraphy: Maddisyn Dean. I traced the embedded pattern with my finger. The palace must've sent out thousands, possibly millions, of these all around Illea. Any woman ages 16-20 was eligible to be chosen for the Selection. The calligraphers probably had to prepare months in advance just to get each letter sent out in time.

Mom got home from a last minute meeting with a client who decided she wanted a commissioned necklace as soon as possible. I heard the front door close just around 6:30. In my opinion it was perfect timing, Amber kept going on and on listing reasons why I should sign my letter. Most of her reasons were because she signed her letter. 

Her constant nagging made me question whether or not I should just tell her that the prince wasn't her type at all and even if she was selected, she can't have any of her sexual fantasies come true over the duration of the Selection due to the no sexual interactions rule (which I completely made up to get her off my ass). 

"Girls!" My mom hollered as she set down her purse filled to the brim with sketch pads, pens, beads, and pliers. Her dark brown hair was streaked with gray from her age, but she still looked as lively and young as ever. 

All of my siblings looked like my mom, dark brown hair, bright blue eyes, a sharp nose, and a 'fragile figure like a porcelain doll' as grandma liked to call it. But unlike the rest of us, I had a freckled face like dad had. I always was complemented on my looks, but living with four other people who look like you doesn't really make you feel that special. 

Both mom and I were never considered tall, Amber and Ashton got their height from dad. Ashton is Amber's twin brother. They're both two years older than me, but unlike Amber, Ashton was always dating girls. After dad had passed away, Ashton just couldn't wait to get married to the "love of his life" only four months after they had met. He moved across the country to Carolina just days after he got married. I guess we all had different ways of coping with dad's death. 

We sat down for dinner and that's when all the Selection, princess, and money commotion started. Mom had set down dinner, a small salad and pasta, and she walked right over to her seat. I glanced at Amber as she leaned back in her chair and she smiling at me deviously.

"Mom," Amber started, pouting. "Maddi got her letter and she won't open it." 

Unbothered by Amber's comment, mom dished out salad onto her plate, "Now, Amber, don't you think that it's Maddisyn's decision whether or not she opens her letter?" Mom and Amber both turned their heads to me, smiling innocently. Their stares silently willed me to intervene in their conversation. 

I waved my fork between the two of them. "Listen you two, I don't have to open the letter just because I have it. I have a choice of joining, you know."

"But-" Amber started.

Mom grabbed Amber's hand, "No, Maddisyn is right honey. She doesn't have to open the letter if she doesn't want to." 

I wish I could say that we ate the rest of dinner in peace, talking about our new clients and the pieces from the wholesaler that had recently arrived at our store. But, dinner continued on silently. Eventually, both mom and Amber's eyes ended up on me again, staring into the depths of my soul. They both knew that by silently pressuring me to open my letter I'd do it, my curiosity always got the best of me. 

I let out a long sigh. "It's in my room. Give me until the end of the week, at least. I just need time to think about all of this." I stood up from the table and cleaned off my plate. The thought of the letter was imprinted in my brain now. I told my sister and mom "goodnight" and practically ran up the stairs to my room, eager to open my letter.

I opened the envelope slowly, my anticipation rose. I think I was secretly hoping that the letter would say, 'Congratulations, you made it in! you're selected to move away from home and cat fight with 31 other girls!' or 'Sorry, unable to proceed in the process because you don't like the prince'. 

But to my dismay, it didn't have any definite yes or no answer. I slid out the letter and unfolded it. The paper was nice, thick, it felt hand-made like the craft paper the shop next to us sold. I quickly scanned the letter, hoping my eye would catch on anything that spoke about giving up your spot or what happens if you're chosen and you want to give up your spot. It did not. So I read it over once more. 

The gossip around Whites was true, for once. The letter did note that I would be given a 'generous compensation' for every week I stayed at the palace. I'd be fed three meals a day plus, tea and snacks would be provided at our convenience. I'd be dressed accordingly to the style at the palace, be in the safest hands of the country, and possibly meet the world's greatest diplomats (and possibly my husband). At least I wouldn't have to worry about starving and I definitely wouldn't have to worry about my family starving if we were paid extra.  

We weren't making thousands of dollars each month in the jewelry industry, so an extra boost of money for my family would keep me sane. But, did I really want to get forced into a relationship with a guy I had never met? Not necessarily. I mean if I signed the form I could be picked and I could help my family pay back bills and pay taxes. Then I would also get to live at the palace, with all of the dresses and glamor. I would get to live safely and get to date a prince. I guess that sounds nice. But there'd be 32 girls out of the whole country of Illèa being picked to compete for love, I wasn't necessarily one to gravitate towards girl drama. 

Three soft taps landed on my window. I snapped out of my circle of overthinking and peeked outside. Violet stood outside in jeans, a heavy wool sweater, her warmest boots, and a heavy jacket. I was still in my clothes from work. Quickly, I changed into something a little bit more comfortable and rushed downstairs to let there in. For years, Violet would meet at my house to talk about the shops, any new guys we saw, and we'd often debate the fresh snow and whether or not it was good enough to ski. Violet and I sat on my floor, sprawled out on a soft blanket. Violet sat next to me and took off her boots. 

"So, I'm guessing you want to talk about it?" I asked. 

Violet laughed. "That's exactly why I came, to talk about doing it. I have my prospects lined up, there's James from the ski team, Ian from the library, and Alexander."

"Vi I didn't mean sex. I meant the letter" 

"And you're signing it right?" Violet asked hopefully glancing at me. Looking at my expression, her smile dropped and she asked again, "You're signing it, right Maddisyn?" 

"Well-" I started.

"You're not signing?" she said, frustrated.

"Don't you think that it's just a little weird that Illea is hand-picking 32 girls to fall in love with the prince in front of the whole country?" I asked Violet. She just absently blinked at me like I'd just said the stupidest thing ever.

"No, it's not that weird. You overthink too much Maddisyn. It's an opportunity for Prince Kaden to find a bride and it's also an opportunity for the country to get to know their possible future ruler better. And yes, I guess there's the falling in love part too" Violet stated tossing a braid over her shoulder.

I let out a long sigh, "You know, you somehow always have a way of being right."

"So, it's a maybe then?" Violet asked, still hopeful. We sat in silence for a few seconds. My mind swirled around the obviously valid points Violet had just made. 

After minutes of silence, Violet cleared her throat. "Anyway, let's talk about Adrianna's new competition...Bakery 47 just opened down the road and I've heard that their muffins taste way better than her family bakery. I also heard that Sabina is sleeping with Luke, the baker's son and she says that he's four inches on a good day..." 

We burst out laughing and started talking about my new clients and commissions and her new studies and occasionally, the students we'd been training recently. Sometimes Violet would stay over and we'd go to the slopes in the mornings. But she chose her career to be in education. She had become a new teacher assistant at a university, so she had to make sure she had a good schedule. I tightly hugged Violet, hoping that she'd stay warm in the bitterness of the night..

"Maddi, please let me know when you fill out the form. I know you want to and I want to send ours in together." Violet whispered. I nodded my head in agreement. 

After Violet left, I laid in bed staring at my ceiling. Of course she knows I want to fill it out. Of course my mom would pressure me to fill it out, then we'd have double the chances of getting in. The idea of turning on my light and starting on the form now tugged at my brain until my eyes shut. 

The next morning, I woke up with a mission, to make my decision. Amber and Violet had made theirs so easily and I was so torn. In the back of my mind I thought Did I really want to stay in Whites forever? No.

As it turns out, I wasn't the only one who wanted me to make my decision so quickly. When I came downstairs for breakfast, mom had already made me a nice breakfast, coffee and some oatmeal. Great, I thought now she really wants something from me. Right next to my place at the table, not so subtly, was the Selection form. 

"Mom, how did you-" I sighed "I had that in my room, I was reading through it last night and I have a list of all of the possible things that could go wrong if I signed the form. And I think that-" 

"You think that the pros definitely outweigh the cons?" My mother interrupted me, sliding the bowl of sugar next to the mug of coffee she had poured for me. "I saw your list, you need to stop overthinking sweetie." I knew my mom was right, besides I really wanted to get the whole Selection shenanigans out of the way. 

Ever since I could remember, every Friday we'd watchThe Report. Every Friday, Prince Kaden would be seated alongside his family and every Friday, Amber would comment on and on that she hopes that Prince Kaden never finds a princess from a foreign country to marry so he would just have to hold a Selection so we could have the opportunity to be in it. Amber frequently noted that the prince and I would make a good couple. 

Since last night I'd been thinking about what Violet had said to me. Even though it wasn't much, my best friend was signing the form and I guess it wouldn't hurt to have a shot too. I mean, what were the chances that one of us would get picked? One in a thousand?

I turned to my mom and saw the hopeful look on her face. "Ok, I'll sign the form. But, I can't promise that the prince will fall in love with me" 

"Sweetie, just promise me that you'll at least try. For us and for you. You do have our amazing genes with your fathers charm and my wit, who couldn't resist?"

I laughed, "I promise that I'll try mom. But seducing isn't really in my playbook." 

Obviously my mother was happy with the fact that she didn't have to push me any harder to get me to sign that form. Smiling, she left me in peace to eat. I barely got a second to myself before Amber burst in interrogating me about the form.

"Mads, is it true that you're actually gonna fill the form out? Oh, my little duckie is signing the form!" Amber tugged at the ends of my hair and laughed happily to the kitchen for her breakfast. 

I honestly didn't think that she knew if I entered, only one of us could get chosen. Even if she did, I don't think she cared. 

After finishing breakfast, I walked to my room to get dressed for my day. I wanted to feel my best before signing away my future to the palace. Thankfully, I wasn't working today so I could wear something a little more comfortable and suitable to the harsh cold of Whites. 

My closet was filled with knit sweaters, jeans, cardigans, heavy down jackets, thermal layers, and many pairs of boots. Knowing that I didn't have to put on my slacks and airy blouse for work today, I felt a sense of relief and warmth. I'd choose sweating over freezing any time of the year. 

I chose my favorite sweater, which once belonged to my dad. I was too small for it to fit properly, so it hung loosely on me. But I still loved it, the gray knit material was worn at the ends of the sleeves and holes appeared where I had pulled loose threads. But best of all, it still smelled like dad with his pine scent from strolling through the trees, the cleaning spray that he'd use for cleaning gems, and the new pastels he would by for his sketches. 

Lying on the table in the kitchen was my form, in the same spot that it had been when I woke up. I picked up a pen that was lying on the counter and I stared at the form as if it was written in a  foreign language. It practically was, it contained amounts of money I had never even imagined acquiring in my lifetime, the promise of safety, and the possibility of love. I pulled out a chair at the table and heavily sat down hoping that my family would realize that they were about to miss the moment that they pushed so hard to get.

I stopped ogling at the thing and started reading the it. I was asked to fill out basic questions such as my birth name, birth date, height, weight, eye color, and hair color. After I finished the first section of the letter, I noticed the questions became more detailed. It asked me what languages I spoke- other than English of course- any hobbies I had, jobs that I worked, amount of siblings I have, how many people I lived with, and highest year of schooling. 

When I was younger my mom homeschooled me. She made me choose two languages to learn 'for the benefit of myself and my future'. I chose to learn French and Italian. When I first started at the jeweler, we acquired a few Swendish clients. Overtime I slowly picked up Swendish, but I could only really comprehend it when it was spoken to me. Amber said that comprehension at any level counted on the form. So I scribbled down all three of the languages.

Fifteen minutes passed before my mom asked me anything about the letter. She just sat in front of me and watched me write, slowly sipping a cup of tea. I appreciated her patience, normally she would've been bouncing up and down behind me making sure I was wording everything right.

"Well, what does it ask Maddisyn?" my mom leaned over the table to see the questions, and read my answers to them.

I started to list off the questions I had already answered so I could just finish filling out the form. Mom seemed very appalled by the fact that they asked for my weight and wondered out loud if the palace was discriminatory against a certain weight. 

"Mom," I nudged her away from me. "Breathe, I think it's just for dresses or something. Anyways they asked for eye color and hair color. Um, it is also asking how many languages I speak." I looked up at her wondering what her response would be to that question.

"Well they better pick you because you speak three languages! Remember, all that matters is comprehension" my mother smiled, finding herself amused with the questions that I had to fill out. 

    "Didn't you fill out the form with Amber, mom?" I asked, slightly annoyed that she was hovering. 

    "Yes. But some of your questions are different than Amber's. Like the hobbies and free-time one. Amber was asked if she had ever been in a relationship. Which I don't see on your form..." mom stated matter-of-factly.

"Why don't you go make me a cup of tea?" I said, filling out the question asking what my current hobbies were. This question was kind of easy, I could write down drawing. I had to sketch new designs every day fo the shop. I also wrote down baking and reading, as well as skiing and photography. I was slightly tempted to write down something off-putting so they had no chance but to eliminate me from the pool. But mom would have a field day if I misbehaved.

I looked around the room, taking in this moment and trying to ground myself. I wondered what dad would say if he were here. He would probably comment something like I should add sleeping to my hobby list. Or for my languages list I should write sarcasm and talking back. I smiled just at the thought of him. I took a deep breath and signed my legal name at the bottom of the page. 

Amber had already gone with her friends to turn in her form, mom and I went down to the Whites Postal Services to turn in the letter later that morning. It was a quick three minute walk from our house and walking in the crisp fresh air always helped calm my nerves. Mom wanted to take the bus, but I made her bundle up in a jacket and scarf. 

"We need to make a stop on the way." I told mom, hoping she wouldn't complain.

"Violet's place I'm guessing?" she nudged me. I nodded silently as we made the detour to Violet's.

~

When the three of us got to the Postal Services, there was a long line of girls who were wearing lots of makeup with their hair in loose curls. Their nicest blouses or sweaters- despite the cold weather and snow. I was still wearing my outfit from this morning, I just added Ashton's old wool coat he left behind before he moved away. I didn't feel the need to dress up to turn in a form. 

I had no idea what I was getting myself into here, did I? I wondered to myself. 

My hair was in loose braids, like it always was. I didn't have work today, so I had nothing on my face except for a sheer amount of lotion. Compared to the other girls I definitely looked more fresh-faced and natural. Normally, I only wore makeup to events for our clientele. On a daily basis I tended not to go all out. 

"9 years in the making Maddi and I'm so glad you and I are together to do this." Violet beamed.

We'd been friends since she came up to me on my first day working at the shop, I was just about ten years old. She told me that my name was spelled weird and I told her that she wasn't one to judge because she was named after a color. I always had a hard time making friends, but Violet had been there for me for nine years. I was there for all of her boy problems and breakups and she was there for me throughout all of my dad's hospital stays and when the doctor told us that he had died. Violet always claimed that she was my escape from the "real world".

"Maddi, look at that girl!" Violet whispered to me and nodded towards to a girl wearing a very low cut, lacy, and strapless top with tight pants. She was wearing so much makeup it made me wonder what she looked like without it. She was visibly shivering, rubbing her hands together as her mother paraded beside her, walking with her head held high as if she was saying "the future princess has arrived, step aside". All I could think was how cold I'd be if I was wearing close to nothing in below freezing weather.

"Well, obviously this can't just be a lottery." Violet commented, scanning the crowd of girls. We both looked back in the line, slightly disappointed knowing that the chances of getting chosen wasn't by luck. There was a girl still in her stained work shirt and name tag, I didn't know if she was going to go back home and change or not. 

"Vi, what happens if one of us gets picked and the other doesn't?" I looked at my best friend with a sad smile. 

"Mads, if you get picked I'll be so happy for you. I hope that it's that same way for you," I gave her a small nod. "Besides, if anyones getting picked, it's totally gonna be me." She smiled and held her head high. I knew she was joking, well, at least I thought she was. 

I was always comparing myself to Violet. We had similar features: blue eyes, porcelain skin, and gentle manner. But our similarities ended there. She was constantly getting asked out on dates or getting complimented by training teams in the lodge. She was tall, maybe five foot eight or so. In contrast to me, her hair was as blond as anyone's could be. Violet claimed that her hair got blonder the more she spent time outside or on the slopes. Her eyes were a shocking mix of blue and green, like you were staring into tropical waters. Her confidence was always higher than mine was and I always guessed that she used her confidence to make me feel more insecure. 

Once we made it to the booth to turn in the forms, I realized wearing my newer boots might have not been a good idea because my feet had really started to hurt. I felt pity for the girls in heels, questioning their decision making skills in the weather. I let my mind wander for only a slight second before my mom and I were ushered into a new line. I turned in my letter and thought we'd be done when a tall woman with a tight bun approached me and my mom. 

"Follow me," She ushered my mom and I into a brightly lighted room, leaving Violet behind us in the crowd. The room was brightly lit from the sun's reflection off of the snow outside, it was so much warmer than waiting outside in the snow. I glanced around the room noticed that the group of girls was slimmer compared to the lengthy line outside. All of the girls sat in cushioned chairs, obviously waiting for something. Mom asked the Postal Service Officer how long waiting here would take. She responded 'five to ten minutes' in a bored tone. 

I waited very impatiently, I picked at my nails and constantly asked my mom if my hair was in place. I anxiously shifted my weight from foot to foot while I waited for the Postal Service Officer to call my name. 

Mom excitedly grabbed my wrist, "Oh! I almost forgot. I brought this bracelet for you. Your dad got it for you for your birthday but, you know..." Her eyes watered and she took a beep breath letting her thought drift off, "I forgot all about it and I was looking through the closet today and there the box was. Like magic! You dad wanted you to have it before you turned eighteen and I had just been waiting for the right moment. Your birthday wasn't the happiest day this year. But now just seems like the perfect time." She smiled as she handed me the gray box. It was tied with a navy ribbon and a small card was folded neatly underneath it. I carefully untied the satin ribbon, I wanted to keep it as an accessory. I placed the card under the box to read for later, maybe it had something personal in it and I didn't want to risk crying in front of all of the other girls.

"Mom! It's absolutely beautiful." I said. The bracelet was beaded with glass beads in all hues of blue. Dad always envied my bright blue eyes and even in the afterlife, he was there to remind me of them. 

Mom wrapped the bracelet around my wrist twice and clasped it. I nearly started crying, but I couldn't stop smiling. In my father's will, he'd only left me a few of his things, useless things like a notebook with stars all on the cover, it was mostly empty except for the map of Illèa consuming the first two pages. It was marked with a few locations Kent, Carolina, and Yukon- I just guessed that he'd wanted to visit those places before he died. He also left me his watch. I had no personal attachment to that watch and neither did he. My father barely ever wore a watch unless it was a special occasion. I felt that I didn't mean as much to him as meant to me.

"Dean, Maddisyn!" A shrill voice called from the front of the room. My mom and I quickly headed to the front of the room, where the lady with the tight bun stood in front of another door.

"Hi, that's me. Maddisyn Dean." I played with the ends of my hair worriedly, why was I chosen to go to a smaller room? Where was Violet, she should be here too. I started to overthink all of the possibilites of why I was here and I was surrounded by girls I had only met in passing. I didn't lie on my application and I certainly didn't do anything illegal before signing the form. 

"Perfect, we just need a headshot of you to show the palace." The lady rushed me into a room the size of my bathroom at home. It was very hot and lights were plastered all around the small perimeter of the ceiling.

Suddenly, it all made sense to me why there were so many girls dressed up.

Mom ushered me to take off my coat, she didn't want me to look too bulky. After a few seconds I positioned myself towards the camera "I'm ready whenever you are" I told the cameraman.

A group of people quickly surrounded me, immediately taking my braids out and smoothing my hair. They quickly ran a cloth across my skin, blotting at my cheeks. Once my hair was all fixed up, I looked right at the camera and smiled the brightest smile I could. For dad. I thought.

Seconds after my picture was taken, I realized that I had flung myself off the cliff of the Selection. Now, my name was in the pool with thousands of others, just waiting to get picked.

#fanfics #fanfic writing #wattpad #books #the selection

[psalmonesermons]

Lessons from Galatians Part 3a

Ch 3 :1-18 Christ has redeemed us from the curse of the law

3:1 You foolish Galatians! Who has bewitched you? Before your very eyes Jesus Christ was clearly portrayed as crucified.

They had heard the one true Gospel, that Jesus Christ had been crucified for the sin of humankind, he died and was resurrected to the right hand of the Father, and everyone who believes in Him, shall be saved by faith in Him.

2 I would like to learn just one thing from you: Did you receive the Spirit by observing the law, or by believing what you heard?

This is a rhetorical question, we receive the Spirit by believing of course.

3 Are you so foolish? After beginning with the Spirit, are you now trying to attain your goal by human effort?

4 Have you suffered so much for nothing--if it really was for nothing?

Usually it is only the true gospel that gets persecuted.

5 Does God give you his Spirit and work miracles among you because you observe the law, or because you believe what you heard?

When the dynamic of the Holy Spirit came to them, by faith, how could they even consider going back to a dead religion, Surely, they could see that the manifestations of the Holy Spirit, occur where there is faith, but not where there is observance of the Law.

Paul, now, takes them back to first principles.

6 Consider Abraham: "He believed God, and it was credited to him as righteousness."

Abraham never observed the Law.

7 Understand, then, that those who believe are children of Abraham.

The believers followed his example.

8 The Scripture foresaw that God would justify the Gentiles by faith and announced the gospel in advance to Abraham: "All nations will be blessed through you."

9 So those who have faith are blessed along with Abraham, the man of faith.

This is very Good News.

Shocking news.

10 All who rely on observing the law are under a curse, for it is written: "Cursed is everyone who does not continue to do everything written in the Book of the Law."

These curses include poverty, sickness, famine, want, shortage, confusion, defeat, terror, darkness, despair, and separation etc.; see all these curses in Deuteronomy 28.

11 Clearly no one is justified before God by the law, because "The righteous will live by faith."

12 The law is not based on faith; on the contrary,

"The man who does these things will live by them.” The Law only offers life to those who completely obey it.

13 Christ redeemed us from the curse of the law by becoming a curse for us, for it is written: "Cursed is everyone who is hung on a tree."

Jesus took it all on the cross that all believers might go free and receive the blessings of God not his curses.

14 He redeemed us in order that the blessing given to Abraham might come to the Gentiles through Christ Jesus, so that by faith we might receive the promise of the Spirit.

This is the greatest blessing.

15 Brothers, let me take an example from everyday life. Just as no one can set aside or add to a human covenant that has been duly established, so it is in this case.

16 The promises were spoken to Abraham and to his seed. The Scripture does not say "and to seeds," meaning many people, but "and to your seed," meaning one person, who is Christ.

17 What I mean is this: The law, introduced 430 years later, does not set aside the covenant previously established by God and thus do away with the promise.

18 For if the inheritance depends on the law, then it no longer depends on a promise; but God in his grace gave it to Abraham through a promise.

v15-18 A covenant is a solemn and binding agreement in which two parties exchange vows or promises committing themselves to a joint relationship or venture.

There may be penalties involved for breach of promise.

What types of covenants do we enact in everyday life?

Marriage and business contracts (mortgages etc.).

So many marriages break up because people want to add new clauses to the deal or the vows that they made. For instance, to have and to hold until you get sick , or get made redundant, or until you meet someone else whom you prefer to your spouse, or until your lack of commitment , selfishness and self pity overwhelm you to the extent that you that you break the marriage covenant.

Many business contracts now include penalty clauses to compensate for breach of contract. No sensible business deal will allow you to change the terms after the deal has been struck.

In the same way God does not let anyone alter the conditions of his promise to Abraham fulfilled through his seed Jesus Christ, and passes through Jesus to us , to be changed nothing can be added or subtracted from the deal.

Because we live in new testament times, we sometimes forget that the law came 430 years after God’s promise to Abraham and Paul is saying here that the law cannot alter the original covenant, deal, or promise.

What was the promise?

God's announcement of His plan of salvation and blessing to His people, one of the themes integrating the message of the Old and New Testaments. God's promise begins with a declaration by God; it covers God's plan for not just one race, but all the nations of the earth; and it focuses on the gifts and deeds that God will bestow on a few to benefit the many.

Summary 3:1-18

We may define God's promise this way: the divine declaration or assurance was made to Abraham representing the whole nation of Israel and specified that:

(1) He would be their God,

(2) They would be His people,

(3) He would dwell in their midst.

Amen

Your prayer

#christianity #bible study #bibletruth #blog post #blessings #psalmonesermons #faith #victory #devotional #galatians 3 #Christ has redeemed us from the curse of the law

[chosenkeepersworld]

The Curses We Inherit: Chapter 1

Original Work

Word count: 1,646 words

Date Posted: April 14, 2021 (Tumblr)

A/N: Unbeta-ed work but I hope whoever reads this will like it and let me know what you think. Critique is greatly appreciated. Thanks!

MASTERLIST

Danika practically lunged out of her seat as she woke up, the seatbelt being the only thing stopping her from nearly slamming into the overhead.

She could hear the woman’s voice echoing as she heaved heavily “It’s the only way to break my curse” slender fingers tugged at golden, red locks as the young woman steadied the rapid beating of her heart.

“Are you alright?” the elderly woman sitting next to her asked, lightly touching the younger woman’s shoulder. Danika attempted to smile “I’m alright, it was just a dream” the strawberry blonde turned to look out the plane window.

The dream changed from the ones she had had before. More and more details had become clearer than the previous night. Maybe she would finally get the answers she had been looking for when she arrived.

The plane had begun its descent while Danika slept but now more awake she could see wide ranges of green fields and lines of trees drew closer and closer, farther out she could make out some of the houses and roads.

She allowed herself to smile, feeling the excitement that had been overtaken by anxiousness finally bubble in her chest, maybe she could enjoy herself for once.

Golden red hair swayed as she bobbed her head to music coming softly from her earphones, Danika was one among many who were waiting for their luggage to come around, there was no hurry since her relatives were still on the way. This was the first time she would be meeting them in person, not just hearing their voices or looking at them through a screen, and now wished she’d brought something.

But this wasn’t a vacation, she had reasons for coming here.

The music immediately cut off, the caller ringtone replacing it. Assuming it was one of her relatives she took the call.

“Danika”

The young woman went stiff at the sound of his voice. Her name had been said that way before, coldly, in disappointment and exhaustion as if she was the cause of every problem they had. Her father said it that way often, and it looked like her brother would be picking up the habit.

“Why are you in Ir-”

She hung up on him. She gently pulled at the wires, letting the buds hang around her shoulders, the sounds around her faded until she could only hear the sound of her heartbeat booming in her ears. Numbness was all she felt, too many thoughts were racing around in her mind. Her brother knew she was here and if he were her father she would have a team of bodyguards coming after her as soon as possible, they would bring her home kicking and screaming if they had to then her father would punish her for it.

Her brother was not their father. However, she wasn’t sure that was a good thing either.

When she got out of the building, after finally snapping out of her thoughts and getting her suitcase, the young woman peered around others as she walked out. She was about to walk further down when someone yelled out her name. Turning, she quickly spotted a woman waving wildly at her, holding a sign with Danika's name.

The woman's long, dark hair tangled in the breeze as she made her way towards the younger woman, her light brown eyes brightened with glee.

Danika took in the woman's features as she moved closer and closer, all the young woman could do was stare. She was unsure how to handle this situation, on one hand they were family but on the other they were practically strangers. There was no time for an internal debate, she put on her usual, polite smile and extended her hand.

But before Danika could get a word out of her mouth, the dark haired woman enveloped her in a tight hug. Danika stiffened before forcing herself to relax, awkwardly patting her back in response.

“It’s so good to finally meet you” she grinned at me “I’m Cara” she began steering the younger woman to their car, still chatting gleefully while all Danika could do was nod. “Sean was so excited to see you after so long but there was a work emergency this morning” She laughed “You should have seen his face when he found out”

The name lit a lightbulb in her mind. Sean was one of her many cousins, a little older than her brother. She’d met him a few times when she was video chatting with her aunt, who had also tagged her on social media when he got married at the end of last year.

Sean and Cara lived in a one bedroom apartment in Arbour Hill, upon entering the unit the first thing Danika could see was the small dining table, pushed up against the wall, beyond it was the living area. To the right of the entryway was the kitchen, there were two doors, one beyond the kitchen and one next to the television stand, either one leading to the bedroom or the bathroom.

The apartment wasn’t grand, the furniture wasn’t ungodly expensive and the décor wasn’t massive or famous. Everything was the complete opposite, simple, clean and comfortable.

“Sean mentioned a few things about you and your brother. This probably isn’t what you’re used to but I hope you’ll be comfortable even though it’s only for a night”

Danika turned to say something but Cara was already in the kitchen fixing up the take-out she bought on the way home. Sean and Cara had opened their home to her and had been welcoming from the moment Cara saw her at the airport the least she could say something nice.

The strawberry blonde took a deep breath to calm her heart hammering in her chest.

“Uh, Cara?”

The dark haired woman turned to her “Hmm?”

This was it, just a few simple and kind words “I...uh...where’s the bathroom”

Ugh, coward

Exhaustion had finally caught up with Danika by the end of lunch. She changed into more comfortable clothing, a loose fitting t-shirt, sweatpants and her favorite pair of fluffy flip-flops. Cara had shown her the bedroom, it minimalistic like the rest of the apartment. The bed was at the center, two nightstands on either side of the bed, the closet by the door and a small desk across from it.

Danika had just settled into bed for a nap but despite the physical exhaustion, her mind had too many thoughts for it to settle. Her brother’s call earlier was on the forefront of her mind, worried about what he might do or if he would do anything at all. Her father had used their family’s considerable resources to empower himself. Used his money to gain the favor of law enforcement, used his status to “befriend” other people of power and used the power to make sure people fell in line.

But he was gone now and Connor had taken his place. Connor was smarter, more charming and had quickly gained the employees’ respect and fear. However, his motivations still eluded her and he would never talk about family business to someone he considered a child, despite her age, someone who still believed in fairytales and curses.

Danika groaned and snuggled as deep as she could into her pillow, and eventually her body found rest, but in her mind, in her dreams, she found herself watching a missing part of an old family tale.

It always felt real when she woke up. Danika could feel the softness of the thin blanket beneath her fingertips, could smell the scent of gardenias from the bouquet that sat on the table and when she began to move around the small space it was as if she were really there.

Once exiting the bedroom, one would see a wooden, square table with chairs on all sides. A small kitchen, two tables and a chimney with a metal pot at the center of the firepit.

But it was always the door, behind one of the dining chairs, that drew her attention. The scene behind it changed everything she knew about the story that was passed down from one generation to another. The garden behind the cottage was lush and filled with all kinds of vegetables, fruit, flowers and herbs growing in sections of the garden. However what really drew her attention was a little ways beyond the garden.

She saw a man and woman under the thick branches of the old tree as she moved closer. She could only assume they were the couple in the story, the prince and the healer torn apart by the prince’s choices.

“ I don’t understand why you keep returning when my answer will be the same as before” the woman asked softly, never looking away from the mounds of newly settled soil.

“ My wife is pregnant, she lives in constant fear because of what you have done” he told her “Thea wouldn’t want-”

The woman turned, finally facing him. Her amber eyes bright with fury, looking at him with such hatred causing Danika to flinch.

“You have no right to say her name” she seethed “You are the reason why she had to join her garden, why she and her child needed to be laid to rest beneath us”

Danika’s eyes widened then turned to the two mounds close to the tree, one was much smaller than the other and each had a garland of flowers that hung off a wooden marker, etched on each marker was what looked like a moonflower. It was clear to anyone who saw the markers that it was a burial mound.

The prince’s eyes darkened and his jaw tightened “What do you want?” he gritted his teeth.

“I want Thea’s torque” she said then her eyes moved to look at Danika’s “That’s the only way to break my curse”

#The Curses We Inherit #The Curses We Inherit Ch 1 #original story #original writing #creative writing #wip #unbeta'd

[tokoyamisstuff]

Tender Ch. 1 - Loki x Mute! Reader

Summary: Even though Loki doesn’t understand why the new member of the Avengers should be kind to him of all people, he doesn’t want you to stop either.

Warnings: Loki being depressed, the Avengers being kinda mean, mentions of Torture and Death

Words: ~2100

[Story Masterlist] [All of my Works]

All eyes were on him again.

As soon as Loki would step inside, the previously lively room would fall completely silent. Well, it’s not like he wasn’t used to being the involuntary kill-joy...

Usually, the God of Mischief craved attention, may it be positive or negative - most of the time being the latter. But lately, after months of having all those distrustful and hostile glares piercing holes into him, he’d rather wish for the ground to swallow him whole.

“Umm, so...I gotta go.” Natasha was the first one to flee the unpleasant atmosphere, not even putting the energy into mutter anything else than a cheap excuse on her way out. Clint wordlessly followed her close after, but not without shooting the Odinson one last, spiteful look.

Loki on the other hand was picking on his hands, a nervous habit he had inherited from his mother. As much as he tried to avoid meeting their eyes, the tensioned aura they were emitting making him feel close to breaking down completely - but he would never give them the satisfaction to witness this, he swore to himself.

And yet: Maybe he should just leave. Disappear, forever.

Although he’d never admit, Loki had grown very tired of his life following this stirr path, unable to diverge into a new direction. Everything he did would ultimately bring death and destruction upon mankind, inflicting fear in the hearts of all people.

His whole existence was based on being condemned to fail - just for others to reach their ‘glorius purpose’.

“Great” Tony scoffed. “Now they’re gone. Well done, prince of nothing.” Steve cut his friend off, clearing his throat very exaggeratedly.

The god still hadn’t moved from the doorframe of the conference room, while all others were already sitting on the oval-shaped table. He didn’t got what all that fuss was about. If Steve didn’t insist him to attend this emergency meeting, he’d just have gone about his usual business and avoided everyone as good as he could.

“C’mon, brother” Thor sighed, well knowing that if his brother was to stay in the team, it would ultimatively drive a wedge between them. All that pressure in the air was straining for everyone, including himself. 

Tony on the other hand was pretty chill about everything, aside of being passive-aggressive. This was probably due to their similar coping styles.

Even though his near-death-experience back when he stopped the Chitauri was still eating on his mental health, he’d prefer glossing over it with stupid jokes and overly confident behaviour. “No sassy remark today, Reindeer Games?”

Stark was leaning back in his chair, arms crossed as he rose an eyebrow on the god, who only muttered a hoarse “No...not today.”

Yeah, it was kind of his style to break the unsettling silence through puny comments or self-glorifying speeches, to distract from his own insecurity.

But right now, he was just so damn tired.

Of this planet and it’s people, as well as the humiliating circumstances he had to dwell in. The fact that he was a prisoner at the Stark Tower, amongst his worst enemies. Being forced by his brother to keep up this meaningless act, as if he’d ever be seen as a team member or ally - when in reality, he was but a slave to the people he once ought to reign.

Just like back on Asgard: Never one of them, never belonging. No way to break free - for his true self was something to be loathed.

However, first and foremost the one thing he was especially tired of was himself, for he couldn’t get out of his own skin. Not only could he never be considered a hero, let alone be redeemed.

After all the atrocities he had commited due to Thanos’ torture and the tesseract’s influence,  now that he woke up from that naive dream of power stilling the emptiness in his dark heart, there was nothing left for him - other than to be haunted by his crimes until the mercy of death would overcome him.

“Well” Steve began, slamming his palms on the desk to attract everyone’s attention. “As you all know, we are welcoming a new team member today.”

“They all know?” Of course they wouldn’t let him in on such sensitive information. Not that he minded either way - one Avenger more or less, it didn’t matter how many people hated him in here.

“Please, come on in.”

Loki cleared the entrance when he heared Tony’s words, turning around in anticipation of another dull creature like the Hulk to torment him - but his calm demeanour dropped completely at this unusual sight:

“Y-You?!”

That was simply not possible! The last time he had seen you was almost a year ago, and you were on the brink of death at that!

“For everyone that doesn’t know yet: Her name is Y/N Y/L/N. She is one of the victims HYDRA experimented on, and they succeeded in forming an artificial mutant.”

Steve went on and on explaining about your powers, but Loki’s head had already turned on autopilot, the only thing he could concentrate on being how the hell you of all people ended up here.

All these months, he was desperately trying to get any information about you, all of his hints ultimately leading him to dead ends - and in the end, tragically believing in your imminent death.

The memories were still painfully vivid in his mind: It was his first mission together with the Avengers, at a HYDRA hideout with most likely no civil survivors.

Actually, he had planned to make his escape right when the others engaged in a fight, wandering the hallways of what resembled a torture chamber rather than a laboratory.

On the walls were several instructions, about a serum that might cause a human to mutate if they were exposed to unbearable stress - pain being the most effective method, apparently.

Yet instead of finding anything useful for his personal gain, he found you: A  beautiful woman, yet emaciated and lying in a puddle of her own blood. At first he thought you to be dead just like the others - but as soon as your faint whimpers drang to his ears, he burst the cell you were trapped in open, rushing to your side immediately.

“Shh...” the god scooped you up from the cold stone floor, wrapping his cloak around your broken body. “Everything is alright now. Your savior is here.”

Loki gasped as he felt your hand stroking his cheekbone, even through all your pain and weakness wanting to bid your hero this due respect.

“Hel...you humans are such fragile creatures...” Loki muttered under his breath, cursing his own lack of talent when it came to casting healing spells. “Hang in there, look at me!”

Your eyes were teary and bloodshot, yet not less fit to bring across a message no words ever could: Incredible gratitude, and admiration.

He could tell you were close to passing out when your hand left his face, falling limp to the side. But he held you firmly in his arms, not once stopping to utter sweet words of encouragement as he made his way to the ship, leading you into safety.

“Your world in the balance, and you bargain for one man?”

Those were the words he once directed at Black Widow - but only now he understood her attempts.

Saving one person could never make up for all the lives he had destroyed - and yet he knew that for you, it would mean the world none the less.

In one way or another, with your life at his mercy, he began to finally grasp the preciousness of life, and doing everything in one’s might to protect it.

“Reindeer Games” Tony tapped on his shoulders, making Loki wake from his pondering. “I’d appreciate if you didn’t scare her away on the first day already.”

Oh.

Just now he was noticing his own grim expression, having towered over your much smaller form this whole time with furrowed brows.

“My apologies” was his firm response, but you only shook your head, trying to tell him it was not a big deal.

So this was what you looked like when you’re not imprisoned, he realized when he took in your physique.

Much to his pleasure, all of your wounds had seemingly healed, and you finally gained some much needed weight. Like this, you looked so much more healthier - and most definetly even more bewitching than he remembered you.

If people had let him know, would he have visited your sickbed, aiding you towards health again? Who knows...

Yet somehow, he dwelled in the thought of you being able to lead a happy life now that you were free - which made your decision to seek out the Avengers in wish for more battles even harder for him to accept.

“You are incredibly strong, Lady Y/N” Loki spoke firmly, everyone else rolling their eyes at his usual exaggeration - but you knew he meant every word. “Be sure of my eternal respect.” 

The God of Lies’ eyes widened in excitement when you directed a warm smile at him, knowing for sure that this one was genuine. It wasn’t like those fake smirks the other Avengers gave him out of politeness, or the mocking laughs when they were making fun of or excluding him.

No - that one was just pure affection. And it left him in awe.

“Thank you for saving me back then” you signed, just for Loki shooting you a puzzled look.

“What, I thought the all-tongue knows every language?” Tony yelled, as inconsiderate as always. Thor was quick to explain on his brother’s stead, him still being deeply invested with you. “Every spoken one, yes. ASL is not one of our fortes.”

Usually, Loki had always been a quick thinker. But right now he was to bewildered by your appearance that thinking straight was out of the question.  

What language were they speaking of? And why have you not been saying anything up until now? Maybe his presence was making you uncomfortable, after all? Should he leave on your behalf?

To make it easier for him to understand, you rolled down your turtleneck, revealing the unsighty scar that covered your whole throat.

There were not many people bold enough to come close to the God of Mischief without warning, yet suddenly you simply took his hand and slowly led it to your neck.

How could you be so naive and offer someone like him such a vital spot?! He’ll never get the human philosophy...

And yet, the flabbergasted god hesistantly let his hand run over the scar, while you opened your mouth to no avail - for 11 months already, no tone would leave your vocal cords.

“I’m incredibly sorry...” Loki whispered with a sorrowful tone, while the others just stared in disbelief. “If only I was able to heal this wound back then...”

What a puny god he was...and an even more pathetic wanna-be-hero at that...

He would try to take a few steps back, but you took a hold of his hand, squeezing it with both of yours, that cheerful smile not faltering in the slightest.

“Please, don’t be sad. I’m only alive thanks to you!” Bucky, whose cousin was mute as well, translated what you were signing for Loki. His tone sounded quite irritated, not fitting those meaningful words. “I only wanted to join the Avengers because I want to be just like you. You’re my idol!”

Those words touched him deeply, igniting a flame inside of him he thought long to be defunct. Was it hope?

Of course it was not nearly enough to pull him out of that deep, dark hole he felt trapped in for as long as he could remember - yet somehow, he now felt that it was not impossible to escape.

While the others were cringing at your declaration, making jokes about ‘choosing wrong idols’ or would plainly not believe Loki to have a positive effect on anyone, the two of you would just stare at each other in silent admiration.

Shyly, you signed yet another word for him - and this time, Loki would know what you mean from pure intuition. 

He smiled.

For the first time in what felt like forever, Loki was able to smile again, just thanks to your heartwarming welcome. And he was still blissfully unaware about what effect you could have on him, if he was brave enough to let you close.

One thing was sure: You literally had him wrapped around his finger from the very start.

#Loki #Loki x Reader #Loki x You #Loki Odinson #Loki Laufeyson #Loki Friggason #Oneshot #Self Insert #Marvel #Disney #Fluff #Fem! Reader #God of Mischief #Loki / Reader

[greenhappyseed]

BnHA Ch. 323 - parallels and comparisons

Most important thing first: Mic name-calls “Jeany” after Best Jeanist interrupts him and insults the UA teachers, saying the citizens find it hard to hear the truth from schoolteachers. Excuse me, PRESENT FUCKING MIC IS A PRO HERO WHO FOUGHT IN THE WAR AND ARRESTED THE DOCTOR. Ultimately, Jeany is trying to take responsibility, which is good, but the way he does it is insulting. Is that really how the Top 3 feel about the UA teachers? (This started out shitpost-y, but I think it does actually matter….)

On to Nezu, who, despite all his well-repressed rage, is still just a rat principal building a cage. He’s created an elaborate mecha-vault-campus to capture save humans and transport them around the country like Willy Wonka’s great glass elevator. Nezu says he did this on intuition, yet that can’t be the full story because his High Specs quirk gives him great insight into possible strategies the villains will use. In fact, the last time we saw his quirk in action, he was trapping 2 students in a maze, gradually blocking off all paths to the exit. Oh, and who else in BnHA is seemingly able to predict their opponent’s strategies and enjoys doing so? I’m not saying Nezu is “The UA Traitor,” particularly given his speech at the end of the chapter, but I AM saying there are parallels.

In particular, Nezu seems to do a lot of work related to quirk morality, while AFO refers to morals as mere fabrications.

Sticking with Nezu and jumping to the end of the chapter…this isn’t the first time he’s made a grand speech about UA students and the future. After DvK2, while Izuku and Katsuki are under house arrest, Nezu speaks to the school about All Might’s retirement and says how all of the students will “inherit this society.” The word “inherit” makes All Might think about his successor, and how Nezu reached out to him when he was searching in earnest (ie, when Nezu and Nighteye had Mirio picked out). Nezu’s “one step” language also ties back to an All Might monologue from the remedial course days — when Shoto, Katsuki, and the Shiketsu kids worked together to win tiny hearts AND All Might and Endeavor had their first real talk, leading Endeavor to reach out to Shoto.

Speaking of the remedial class moving forward, the Katsuki/Shoto “we are not friends” mutual side eye at the mention of Shiketsu is A Moment. Will the remedial foursome be trapped in an underground classroom!??!?

I think it’s clear that the heroes — pros, teachers, students — need to work together as one to win over “the citizens”. The heroes also need their supporters (hello kid in an All Might shirt!), parents (omg, Mitsuki holding Inko back from recklessly running into the crowd like the Midoriya she is!), friends, and rescued victims to take those steps to come forward. Izuku is moving forward for them, and they need to move forward for him.

I’m not convinced that Nezu’s “ultimate hero” is Izuku; it could be Katsuki, Ochako, Shoto, Mirio (hello underground permeation!), Shigaraki, Class 1A, or the entire “new generation”, judging by his “inherit” comment. Izuku is All Might’s chosen one to inherit OFA, but Izuku is NOT the only one inheriting society’s future. Special, but also not. (More on that later!)

Final bit on the mecha-school…I don’t think anything good in this series has come from being “underground”. I think we’ve already established that “underground” is neither safe nor invincible. Underground Yakuza compound. Underground prison. Underground hero (sorry Aizawa!!) Even when talking about the “ultimate hero,” Nezu speaks in terms of rising.

The text leaks said Eri was with Class 1B, which made me frustrated, but the panel is actually a lovely soft Monoma comforting her. It’s really sweet and shows off Monoma’s heroic heart! (And his off-duty fashion sense, because those buttons add some serious dramatic flair.) But, knowing that Aizawa, All Might, Mic, Thirteen, and the Big 3 are Eri’s usual caretakers makes me really sad for her — why are they ALL gone?? Especially when (1) she’s listening to a crowd call her personal hero a weapon with a cursed quirk, exactly how Chisaki used to talk about her; and (2) Izuku doesn’t HAVE to be the one taking care of her, but I think they’d both LIKE to see each other.

Speaking of the crowd, I do like having “the citizens” as a character. In the early chapters, we heard so much about protecting citizens and keeping society from falling into chaos, but it was all theoretical. With the jailbreak, the war destruction, and Dabi’s reveal, it’s good to see citizens who (1) question the value and robustness of the current hero society; and (2) are scared out of their minds. “The citizens” may be an obstacle for the heroes, but their fear and motivation is very rational under the circumstances. People who were forced to evacuate their home on short notice and hole up in a dormitory while skyscrapers crumbled due to villains gone wild (and, uh, Deku) are unlikely to trust the same people who created this mess in the first place. While WE know and love cinnamon roll Izuku, “the citizens” only know him as the target of Shigaraki’s destruction. He’s billed by Jeany as the One True Hope but the citizens know him as a dirty teenager insane enough to break his own bones in a school competition. He’s somehow related to AFO and is either a bomb for AFO, a Nomu-fied corpse doing AFO’s bidding, a target for Shigaraki, or a weapon against AFO that is falling apart at the seams. None of that is reassuring, so I can see why the crowd gets mad enough to make Izuku’s Danger Sense go off. The heroes need to take a moment to really empathize and understand the crowd’s fear and anger.

What’s missing from this scene? ALL MIGHT. The focus on Deku and the OFA/AFO quirks completely omits that Izuku is All Might’s handpicked successor, and that All Might used OFA as a force for good for decades. Jeany and Ochako confirmed Izuku is the special powerOFA holder, so it’s all out in the open except for how Izuku came to possess OFA in the first place. So much for Mt Lady and Endeavor’s media discussion in Ch.317! Also, as Lady Nagant told us, the HPSC was well aware of AFO and tracked his movements. AFO may have been a secret from the public, but was NOT a blind spot for heroes. Same with Gigantomachia — Gran Torino and Tsukauchi failed to capture him, but they knew of him and his association with AFO. (Nobody, including All Might, knew about the doctor and his quirk duplication prior to Hawks’s spy work and the hospital raid.)

I want to see all of this come into the open because the hero failures stem from All Might working alone in secret to stop existential threats while other heroes fought each other for table scraps. (Think of Manual, who is such a plain and underpowered hero, but was clutch during the war.) Heroes STILL aren’t working together, and to fight dual AFOs they are going to need every last bit of help they can get from each other, from students, and from citizens — quirked or not. Anyone who is willing or able to help should join in.

Unease is referenced in this chapter, and unease is what happens whenever All Might disappears. At first when All Might retires, Twice notes the widespread unease with Endeavor as the new #1. Endeavor himself notes his unease with becoming #1 by default rather than earning it. Shigaraki has a persistent unease with his past (pre-awakening), arguably because All Might never came to save Tenko.

Unease spreading through the citizens feeds into AFO’s win conditions perfectly. He WANTS as many fractured and walled-off groups as possible. To steal OFA and rule for eternity, he needs to prevent a “singularity” of will that opposes him.

Let’s see what happens next chapter — I still don’t think Ochako has quite hit her “light of hope” moment yet, and am not convinced this speech will be it. I do think she’s trying hard to humanize Izuku as the OFA holder, but the irony is, in doing so, she is denying he is a special person to her. Only a few humans are truly special at the societal level, but we all have friends and loved ones that think we are special. That’s right, you are loved, even if you don’t have OFA. You are loved even when you need saving. I think this is what All Might was getting at when he tells Izuku during the Sports Festival that there is something special in Izuku. All Might is saying he feels a connection and a trust with Izuku because they were both born quirkless, which makes Izuku special to All Might. This contrasts with Endeavor and Jeany, who view Izuku as special solely because he is the OFA wielder, and Izuku’s need to rest is in service to that duty rather than Izuku’s needs as a human.

#mha #my hero academia #bnha #boku no hero academia #bnha spoilers #mha spoilers #bnha 323 #mha 323 #bnha meta #mha meta #long post #all might #izuku midoriya #ochako uraraka #principal nezu #rat principal #present mic #Jeany

[limitlessgojo]

Blood Bound: Blackened Bond (Ch 14)

Warnings: Action, Coarse Language, Fighting, Descriptions of Blood

Previous SFW Chapter: Home Sweet Home

Previous Chapter NSFW!: The More You Know

Next Chapter: Shadows Fall

Tags: Soulmates AU, Angst, Fluff, Hurt/Comfort, Fem!Reader

Taglist: @lessie-oxj @rizzo-nero @whoreuc @fkngkumiko @isl3t @gojoussunglasses @onepotatostand-blog @s-t-f-u-b-i-t-c-h @sunaswife @lordguameow @track5enthusiast

Notes: If you want to be tagged for every update, and specify if you're okay with NSFW posts or not, please mention it in the comments below ty ❤

Extra Notes: This is my favorite chapter by far in this book, I've been wanting to drop this for weeks! I hope you enjoy reading. Part 2 of the story starts from here on until the end. Feel free to scream in the comments as usual XD

Chapter 14: Big White Lies

As the days passed by, the seasons changed. You started class in Spring. Summer has long passed and it is now the beginning of Winter. Noritoshi, as usual, was really busy so you didn’t see him as often. But you let it go.

You wanted to do something nice for him, so you had the idea to surprise Noritoshi. Having some cupcakes in a small bag and a fresh cup of coffee in your other hand, you were outside his door, hiding your presence and cursed energy to mask your identity.

As you raised your hand to knock on his door, you heard a second male voice.

"I'm glad to hear that you've been getting along with your soulmate son." His father's voice was heard over a speaker. Oh he was on call with his dad!

Yikes, not the best time to interrupt. It is impolite to listen into the conversation, but you were too excited to surprise him that you decided to wait for the call to end.

"Is Y/N really deeply in love with you? Make sure to not let her go. That will surely help our clan's reputation rise above with her skills being integrated into ours. She can definitely bear strong heirs for our clan. For centuries it was the Zenins that harnessed various types of jujutsu shi with strong techniques. It's time we continuously expanded ours as well. Starting with her." The Kamo clan head sternly ordered his son.

'Huh?'

"Yes of course father. Don't worry. She has already confessed her love to me so there's nothing to worry about. I'll do my best to make this clan proud and powerful. I definitely won’t let you down." Noritoshi replied.

The smile on your face slowly faded as your face turned to stone. Ah. Was that it?

Is that what you amounted to only? A tool for their use. A stepping stone for the Kamo clan to get stronger. You started to feel nauseous. Is this the so-called secret he didn’t want to tell you about…

You stood quietly as you continued eavesdropping.

"Excellent. Heh, looks like you can actually be a womaniser if you wanted to. Women are way too easy. As I told you before, give her sweet touches, use pet names, give her lots of encouragement and make promises here and there and they'll be by your side before you know it." His father snorted.

"Yes, I've taken your advice into consideration and did as you said." Noritoshi spoke firmly. Your heart was breaking with every word spoken.

"If you don't like her or how she looks, you can have several concubines and wives anyways. Have your pick. Remember Homura chan? Now she's a stunner. Didn’t you also say you found her cute?"

‘What on earth is this? Who is Homura? Why?’ Your hands start shaking badly, pulse thundering in your ears.

You felt light headed from the brutish words the Kamo clan head was saying, and silently retreated, not wanting to hear Noritoshi's response to his father. Keeping your presence and cursed energy hidden and as minuscule as possible while you walked back to your dorm room.

Because you had left you didn't hear the remainder of the conversation.

"Father, I respect that the older clan heads had several wives and concubines. And I’ve told you time and time again that I’m not interested in Homura san. But I've decided to be loyal to my one true soulmate. I think I am falling in love with her as well, and can't bear to see her hurt. I won't be taking in any concubines." Noritoshi politely replied.

It was the first time he had spoken about his true feelings out loud and he felt vulnerable. He braced himself for any harsh words from his father but none came.

His father only raised an eyebrow. "Suit yourself. The fact is, even if she doesn't give birth to an heir with the inherited Blood Manipulation, she is more than enough of an additional asset to our clan. And it ties us together with the Abe/Tsuchimikado clan as you know."

Clan politics. Noritoshi is getting more and more sick of it every day, but he just silently nodded. As long as he has you and his mother by his side, nothing else matters. "Yes I understand father."

Noritoshi hated talking about his family with you, because of this exact reason. He didn’t want you to be disgusted by this side of their family and get pulled into their family problems. The worst thing would be for you to have a terrible first impression of the Kamo clan.

He understood that you already had a lot on your plate as your missions grew harder and harder. You were often assigned to grade 1 missions alone already. The worst case was for you to get roped into doing messy tasks to please the clan elders.

◇◇◇

You paced around your room, staring at the cupcakes and coffee on your desk. They were getting cold.

Cold. That's how you felt inside and out. You had to confront him. Or else your relationship will just drag you down. You definitely didn't want him to have any concubines. Didn’t want to have a partner who didn’t love you after all.

You were so lost in your emotions that you didn’t realize you were jumping to several conclusions on your own without considering Noritoshi's feelings for you properly.

'But it was starting to make sense' Your mind was screaming at yourself. 'He never explicitly confessed his feelings. He does indeed give me mixed signals from time to time. He shuts me out of private matters to him. He could be using me.’

The one question that was breaking you apart now is: "Was everything a lie? How much of his actions were sincere? He could lie about anything. To get power, that's something the big 3 clans are capable of doing. Satoru told me of some of the horrors already…"

The doubt and feelings of betrayal piled up, until you came to one conclusion: You’ve had enough.

◇◇◇

The next day, you suppressed all your emotions and distracted yourself. You tried your best to act normal around Noritoshi, smiling brightly at him.

It wasn't too effective. Everytime he called you his angel, instead of the delight you usually feel, you felt hurt thinking he was forcing himself to do this.

This can't go on forever. And eventually Noritoshi could start to feel the pain in your heart on his end as well. He hurried to you one afternoon after class, dragging you out to the plum tree away from the buildings.

You looked up at Noritoshi. As handsome as ever. Gentle and concerned (lies), with a strong hand reaching to cup your face (lies lies), speaking so carefully, "My angel, how are you? Why are you troubled? Have I done something to offend you?" (Lies, it was all lies).

He must be lying. Must have been since day 1. The way your brain just jumped to the most terrible scenarios in which he never liked you. There's no other reason. Your breathing quickened.

Both of you were still in the first stage of the soulmate bonding; therefore, you couldn’t share all emotions yet. Just urgent and strong random flashes of it, especially negative emotions. This is why both of you weren’t able to feel the love the other has through the bond yet.

You stopped smiling.

"I overheard your conversation with your father. I'm sorry for eavesdropping, but I had a present for you that I wanted to give you yesterday, so I waited outside your room. But that doesn't really matter anymore." You said, cooly shrugging off the hand on your face.

He stiffened, whole body tensing. 'No it was going so well with you, this can't be happening.' He thought to himself.

"Y/n I can explain-"

"Did you even feel anything for me? Besides our red string of Fate appearing?"

The marks on your wrists flowed in warning, searing hot pain flashed across both of you. But you ignored it. The devil on your shoulder pushing you to break things with him.

"Tell me the words you and your father spoke about yesterday were a lie." You begged him.

He couldn't say it was, because the conversation yesterday was only filled with truths. He was so confused, so he stayed silent.

You laughed at him without any real meaning or humor. The light had gone out of your eyes. Noritoshi felt himself shiver at the sound of it.

"So it was all true. Did you like me for me? Or because I'm your so-called soulmate whom you forced yourself to “love”- pshhh not even love, probably to tolerate, for the sake of power?"

Noritoshi’s head felt unfocused and his palms were sweating.

“I’m just a fucking game to you huh Kamo?!” You were freely crying now. He winced at the use of his family name.

Noritoshi found that he couldn’t breathe properly, much less reply to you. He had never seen you like this. What’s worse is your intense fear, sorrow, and disgust towards him was radiating so strongly through your bond.

“No you’re not.” He could hardly get the words out with how hard he’s breathing. It actually felt like the red strings were tying themselves around his neck. You scoffed at him unbelievingly.

He trembled as he lifted both hands to cup your face, but you stepped out of his reach. His hands dropped.

"You liar. I don't want this. If you just want to use me for my body, and to use me for your gain and for your family's benefit only to toss me aside for other women, then I don't want it." You spoke hoarsely. Your entire body was stiff, hands cold and voice quivering.

Your bond was hanging by a thread. The emotions of pain and betrayal bleeding over and muddling the delicate bond.

"I'm out. Go find some other bitch to breed for your sake of your precious heirs. I don't care if we are a fated pair. If you don't wanna put even an ounce of trust and honesty into our relationship then just fuck off." You turned around and walked away.

"Wait, no I-" Noritoshi gasped out as he snapped out of his shock, but you didn't turn back. You walked faster trying to ignore the voice you loved hearing so much.

Even if it hurts to break apart from him now, it is better than to have your heart broken again and again by staying with him.

"Y/n I do care about you. I do think of you everyday. You’re not a game to me. Didn't you hear what I said yesterday?" He called out desperately, stepping forward.

You ignored him, digging your nails into the palms of your hands at the pain from your soulbond falling apart. 'I won't be fooled any longer'.

Your bond was screaming at you to turn around and believe him. To believe that everything you've felt with him these past few weeks were real. That he truly loved you.

"Listen to me!" Noritoshi cried out.

You halted in your tracks. "I'm nothing to you. If you want to have other women as your concubines, go ahead. I know you can pick up as many women as you want with your standing. You clearly don’t need me. So I don't need you." Your last 4 words are a harsh slap to his face.

Snap. And your bond was left barely hanging with the smallest red thread that stubbornly refused to let go. But the damage was done. He couldn't feel your emotions anymore as his head filled with white noise.

Panic overcame Noritoshi like never before. This wasn’t like his normal self. He didn’t let himself think about anything else, but to run and pull you back in his arms.

Until he was physically stopped by an invisible barrier. Your solid air barrier that blocks all sound and forms of matter on the other side, keeping him away from you.

“No, no, no, no. Y/n Come back! I’m sorry! Speak to me!” He cried, furiously pounding at the invisible wall between the both of you. But you couldn’t hear him, much less know how he is feeling. After all, you’ve ended it with him already.

After you left, he remained rooted to his spot. His forehead leaning against the barrier, tears streaming down his face, as he stared at the place where he saw your figure disappear. It wasn't long ago that he had just fallen in love with you.

Your warmth, your laughter, the touches you give to him. Now everything felt so cold. "But I need you." He whispered out, sounding so broken.

The last few wilted leaves of the plum tree fell, leaving it bare to the cold winter. He remembered the words in the soulmate records of the Gojo Clan. “A soulbond can be rejected.”

Maybe he should have told you everything from the beginning and not hold back any secrets. He was terrified that your opinion of him would change, if you found out about his background and his mother. So he wanted to slowly ease you into the Kamo clan.

This was the worst.

As the sky grew dark, he went back into his room and for the first time, didn't bother studying. Just went straight to sleep.

What he wouldn't give to feel anything from your end. Even if it was anger or hatred, it would be better than this empty feeling.

Author's Notes: This chapter was the first chapter I've written before all others and is how Blood Bound came to be. You could say this is the core of the story, since it's the origin. Just had an angsty afternoon one day and chose violence🥰🤧

Blood Bound: Table of Contents

#kamo noritoshi #jujutsu kaisen fanfic #jujutsu kaisen imagines #jjk fanfiction #noritoshi x reader #noritoshi x o/c #noritoshi x y/n #jjk x reader #jjk x o/c #jjk x you #angst #fluff #blood bound #jjk angst #blackened bond

[wardenparker]

Vampire Waltz - ch 10

Max Phillips x female reader Co-written with @absurdthirst

A mysterious inheritance, sprawling mansion, eccentric roommates, friendly bat, and coven of New England witches are the newest chapter of your life after being unceremoniously dumped and kicked out by your boyfriend. For Max, the biggest change in his life is you, and what exactly he's going to do about the fact that he is stuck living with you as long as his sire continues to punish him for that incident at his last office...

Rating: E for Explicit! 18+ Word Count: 10k Warnings: *Blanket warnings for this series: deceased parents, cursing, food, blood and blood drinking, depictions and references to abusive relationships. Anxiety and trauma responses. Self-worth issues.* Heavy flirting, mention of a safe word, technically public groping/making out, drunkenness, weapon, threats/arguing, accidental injury, character death, blood drinking Summary: An interrupted date and a magical mishap end up with very surprising results. Notes: This chapter has been marked explicit for violence! Please proceed knowing that tags are intentionally vague so as not to give away plot points!

Ch 1 ~ Ch 2 ~ Ch 3 ~ Ch 4 ~ Ch 5 ~ Ch 6 ~ Ch 7 ~ Ch 8 ~ Ch 9

The farm that Max found is two towns over, crawling with families and teenagers and other couples out on similar dates. The little food stand they have open is cranking out fresh doughnuts and corn dogs, and French fries from potatoes grown right there on their land — along with locally pressed apple cider and hot cocoa that is nice and rich but Max is certain just came from a powdered mix. Considering his prowess on the topic, you’re not inclined to disagree with him. Surprised to enjoy yourself so very much that hours fly by without your notice, it isn’t until you shiver in the October chill and Max very dutifully wraps you up in his leather jacket, that you start to think about home again.

Is it possible you’re only thinking that because you want to snuggle up beside him? Very possible. But that’s not such a bad thing to want to do.

“Warm now?” He asks, his arm around your waist and leans in close. He has the opportunity to snuggle close to you and he’s going to take it. The atmosphere is positively sweet and he’s hoping that you are relaxed.

“Much.” Even if he doesn’t radiate body heat, the proximity of him and his bearing makes him into a walking blanket — and his jacket is deceptively warm for being deliberately stylish. “I feel like we’ve done everything but I’m not ready to go home…which seems silly.”

“We can always go through the hayride again.” He offers, thrilled that you want to spend time out with him again.

“You wouldn’t mind that?” The last thing you want to do is bore him, but Max seems to be enjoying himself. Or at least he’s looking at you so softly and happily that you can’t imagine the expression is false — which is really its own sort of miracle.

“I’m out with you.” He hums softly. “I don’t mind at all.” It’s pretty astonishing how soft he has become for you. Managing to have you break through his crusty, self-important exterior to the soft and mushy inside.

“And you’ll really never understand how astonishing I find it that you feel that way.” You lean into his side and sigh, the heavy sound so opposed to the lightness and easiness in your heart. “One more hayride and then we’ll call it a night?”

“That sounds good, sweetheart.” He leans in and nuzzles your cheek. “We can always slip off into the woods to canoodle if you want.”

“Max!” The tone of scandal in your voice is obvious, but not in a way that disagrees by any means. In fact, your pulse jumps up and your cheeks burn hot immediately at the suggestion. “How very scandalous of you.”

With no one looking, Max flashes his fangs at you playfully. “That’s me. Scandalous.”

“Scandalous and sexy.” You huff a little laugh, letting your arm around his waist relax as the two of you walk back toward the start of the hayrides together. “And elegant, of course.”

“Always elegant.” He jokes. “You should see how elegantly I can pin you against a tree.”

Prior to Max, that probably wouldn’t have affected you too much in any particular way, but knowing that Max has never used his strength in any way but to care for you makes that image some even sexier. You know for certain that any way he had you in his arms, you would be protected and cared for — as well as absolutely wrecked. “M—maybe I’d like to see that.”

You manage to shock him. His step falters and the elegantly graceful vampire damn near stumbles. His eyes dart towards your face as he gauges how serious you are. “Give me a safe word.” He demands when he sees you’re serious. “One word that stops anything and everything happening.”

“I—” You’ve never had to have a safe word before, partially because you had a partner who didn’t prioritize your safety, but that is beside the point. Right now all that matters is the hungry way Max is staring at you. “I don’t…” The first word that pops into your head is what comes out of your mouth. “Napkin.”

He wants to laugh, but he doesn’t. Knowing that you would be embarrassed if he did. Probably interpret it as him laughing at you, rather than the word. Instead, he nods. “Napkin. Okay, sweetheart, if you ever want to stop anything – I mean even holding my hand – you just say ‘napkin’.”

"It was the only word I could think of," you defend, embarrassment hot in your cheeks even as you cuddle closer into Max's side. "But I understand what you mean. And...for the record?" Looking up at him from this close to his shoulder makes you crane your neck as though he was twelve feet tall and that's somehow even sexier. "I can't imagine that I would ever want you to stop holding my hand."

“That’s perfectly fine, sweetheart.” A cute little Hallmark perfect date wasn’t the setting he had in mind for discussions about boundaries and safe words, but here you are. “But the second that changes, I want you to tell me. Without being scared I will get mad or it will hurt my feelings. Invalidating your own comfort for mine isn’t something I want.”

"And you'll tell me too?" Somehow you know that he would, but you still feel the need to say it out loud. "Don't be afraid that it will hurt my feelings. I would rather that you always be honest with me."

“You’re my person.” He stresses, tossing you a grin. “My little ketchup packet, my favorite fantasy snack. I would never lie to you.” That part he’s serious about. He doesn’t want you to feel like you can’t trust him, you’re part of his soul. If you can’t trust the person the universe said was your perfect match, can you even trust yourself?

"I'm claiming that as my new pet name," you tell him, practically doubling over and cackling beside him as you wait in line for one more hayride through the farm. "I'm your little ketchup packet from now on. That's the weirdest and cutest thing I've ever heard."

“Then that’s what you’ll be.” He grins, enjoying your amusement and watching you with steadfast affection.

******

Eventually, after another five or ten minutes of waiting, snuggling together like every other couple in line, the tractor pulling the trailer with the bales of hay piled up to make seats arrives. Unloading the last giggling, excitable group before they motion towards you and Max to climb on. He sets a precedent by helping you up onto the trailer with a flourish that makes the other men of your group seemingly follow suit, making him grin as he settles down beside you against a surprisingly comfortable backrest of hay.

“Show off,” you tease under your breath as he puts his arm around you in the back of the truck bed and rest your head on his shoulder. “Forcing them all to up their game.”

He snorts and leans down against your head. “Poor them.” He mocks silently.

“All the girls are probably thanking you, though.” The way your hand creeps into his, fingers threading together and locking into place, is comfortable and practiced now.

“They should have been helping them up anyway.” He muses, smirking at you, “Helps get them laid.”

“Oh yeah?” Your eyes flash mischief and you grin. “Are you hoping it’ll help you, too?”

“Well, I’m always hoping.” He nuzzles your nose with his and chuckles. “But as long as I get to hold you while you sleep, I’m perfectly good.”

“I don’t think it will take too long.” It’s less a promise than a reassurance, because with the way you feel about him you’re just not going to be able to resist very long. And that’s okay.

“We’ll get there.” He’s not concerned about sex, which is amazing considering he was kicked out of the college he was supposed to meet you at because he was thinking with his dick. Maybe it’s because he knows you are his, his soulmate bond stronger than just mere physical attraction.

“Will you stay with me tonight?” The question is soft, and more plaintive than you meant it to be, but it’s honest. Just because he’s stayed beside you for the last two nights doesn’t mean that he is always going to want to. But you want him there. For every possible second that he’ll allow.

“I was hoping you would ask.” He admits, squeezing your hand gently. He wasn’t going to push you for another night beside you while you sleep, but if you want him there, there’s nowhere else he’d rather be.

“I always want you there,” you admit quietly. “But I don’t want to keep you if you have other things to do.”

"I can do any work I need to get done on my phone." He tells you. "Unless the light would bother you."

“It doesn’t.” That is an easy promise, considering you sleep more deeply in Max’s arms than anywhere else. “You could probably talk to me in my sleep and the most that would happen is I would hear your voice is my dreams.”

"Good." He curls a little closer to you and nudges your ear with his nose. "Maybe we can...sleep together regularly?"

“Honestly?” The closer he gets the more you warm up, the heat of attraction rolling off you in waves. “Stay with me every night. Just screw having different rooms, I don’t even care.”

"Ready to move me in, Queenie?" He grins, not bothered by it at all. "You must really like me." He has zero problem staying in your room from now on. Only going back to his room to dress if you couldn't, or wouldn't, give him closet space.

“You’re my soulmate.” As if it were some kind of all-powerful spell, a brisk breeze sweeps through the cart and nudges you to nuzzle closer to Max as the hayride takes off. “And technically I’m the one who moved in with you. You were already there.”

“Technically.” He hums happily, tightening his hold on you as the ride starts.

The first hayride you took had been full of local teens and one young family all looking to enjoy some seasonal entertainment, but this time it is very obviously all couples. There is no doubt about it when seven pairs of people are all sitting in their own little corners of the truck bed and cuddling without a single care in the world for anyone else present. You and Max are able to just watch the night go by from your perched spot on a bale of hay, and when you approach the tree line again towards the end of the ride you bite back a giggle. He makes you feel giddy, and you have to wonder privately how scandalous it really would be to sneak off into those woods.

“Hold on, sweetheart.” Max can move faster than you can. Wrapping his arm around your waist, he pulls you off the trailer with his inhuman vampiric strength and speed to move you to the trees, out of sight of the continuing hayride.

Clinging to him is sort of an understatement for how tight you hold on, but in just two seconds’ time or less you’re well-hidden with him in the tree line and gasping for air as you try to muffle exuberant giggles. “I can’t believe we just did that!” It feels like breaking the rules and you never break the rules.

He chuckles and leans against you gently, pinning you against the tree “Yeah?” He hums, nuzzling your pulse. “We are breaking the rules and being naughty.”

“Max…” Breathy and plaintive, his name on your lips is as certain as the way your fingers are digging into his sides to keep him close as your eyes flutter shut. He’s like a wall around you, surrounding you and blocking out the world, and somehow that is even sexier than you ever thought it would be.

“What do you want, my Dolly?” He asks, sliding his tongue out to trail lightly along your skin. “What do you need?” His voice dips down low and sensual, caressing you with his words.

It’s the most fantastic thing in your mind when he does this, lips and tongue and just the gentlest nip of his teeth on your skin making you forget everything in the world besides him. Far from any feeling you’ve had before, it is intoxicating and all-encompassing and you have to wonder how much it is the soulmate connection and how much is just your physical attraction to him. “Drive me crazy—” you gasp and it drops to a low moan when his hand spreads out over your hip and he presses in closer.

“Good.” He huffs against your skin and grins. He wants to drive you crazy, to make you forget about everything but him and the moment. He presses against you a little more and continues to kiss along your throat. “Wanna drive you crazy.”

Everything else around the two of you truly dissolves and the only thought in your head is how long you can possibly make your neck to give Max more and more skin to kiss. One of your hands finds its way under the hem of his sweater with such ease that you don’t even realize you’re touching him at first. It’s like an unconscious effort to crawl inside the strength of his embrace and just stay there forever.

“Do you know how good it feels to have you touch me?” Max growls against your skin, shivering slightly. Not from the chilly weather, but from the exquisite feeling of your touch. The feel of someone who was meant for him.

“Tell me.” Your hands seek out skin like a magnet, grazing Max’s sides and dipping delicately under the waistband of his jeans.

“It’s— it’s electric.” Even though he doesn’t need to breathe, his voice falters, nearly losing track of what he was saying. “Tingling. Like waking up Christmas morning.”

“Ooo, a fan of Christmas?” The giggle that bubbles out of you is throaty and you find yourself pressing back against the tree to give him maximum leverage while your hands retrace familiar routes. “I’ll remember that.”

“Only when there are presents under the tree.” He teases, his own hand sliding under your shirt at your back. Loving how hot you are as he caresses your skin.

“I’ll put a ribbon on my forehead,” you tease, rolling your hips forward in an effort to connect every possible part of your bodies.

“Yeah? You gonna be my present?” He groans at the thought and imagines unwrapping you from the most delicate lingerie you can buy.

“I’d like to be.” The idea that he could be bored of you by then flickers across your mind but you don’t let it stay. Max has never given a single indication that that could happen. He didn’t even spook when your abuela’s letter mentioned a husband, which would have sent any previous boyfriend running for the hills.

“You’re—” There’s a crack of a branch, one that doesn’t sound like it’s from an animal. A scent that is definitely human. Making Max groan as he pulls away from you, putting his finger to his lips to tell you to be quiet.

Being seen is mortifying enough, but the look on Max’s face is seriously displeased and you clam up instantly. A nod of your head is your promise to obey, and you’re instantly pulling your clothes back into place.

“Well, what do we have here?” The condescending tone isn’t one of a displeased hayride worker, it’s more of someone looking for trouble. Max can smell the booze from here he knows that you won’t like being accosted by a drunkard, especially this drunkard.

It should say something that you recognize his slur as easily as his voice, and you know that Max just heard the way your heartbeat jumped into your throat in fear rather than arousal. Still, you stay silent like Max ordered. “Whaddaya got there?” In the dark he can’t see details very well, but he wobbles forward another step with unearned certainty. “Little lady like her hayride?”

“Funny running into you here.” Max keeps his voice slightly jovial with a tinge of warning in it. No need to start hostile. He’s sure that will come later.  “Didn’t take you for the pumpkin patch type.”

Derek reels back slightly when he recognizes Max, his mocking smile dipping down to a frown. “You.” He huffs, craning his neck to look behind the younger man’s large frame. “I’m just out with some new friends,” Derek insists, waving his arm vaguely in back of him as though fifty people should have appeared out of the trees there. “Trying to get to know my girl’s new home a little.”

“Not your girl.” Max reminds him. “You are done. Best thing you can do is leave.”

“Not gonna happen.” Derek informs him with an amused shake of his head. The arrogance rolling off him in waves is different from Max’s breed of cockiness. It’s downright sinister. “And what do you even care, man? You’ve had her, what…a month?” He scoffs at that and takes a swig out of the brown bottle in his hand. “Just go find somebody else. No harm, no foul. No problem between us.”

“There is a problem between us.” Max turns, shielding you from your ex and acting as a barrier between you. “There’s no one else for me. She’s it. So I suggest you find another punching bag to break in. She’s done taking your abuse.”

“That little mouse?” The doubtful expression on Derek’s face is all for show. He hears the resolve in the other man’s voice and sees the set of his shoulders. The only reason he’s certain he could survive going toe-to-toe with this guy is because Derek knows his own speed. “C’mon man,” he takes another step forward, adopting a friendly posture. “I’m doing you a favor here. Trust me.”

“Trust me, pal.” Max snorts and grins evilly. “You don’t want to push me. She is the only reason you are still breathing.”

The habitual haze of alcohol has Derek interpreting that statement entirely backwards, and he moves toward you with all the confidence of a swaggering buffoon. “I knew my girl could never give me up that easily.” After ten fucking years of training you, you had better not.

“Queenie.” Max snarls your nickname, ready to pounce on this piece of shit and tear him apart if he so much as touches a hair on your body. “Leave.”

“Not without you.” As much as you want to get the hell out of here, there’s no way. If Max is still here then you’re staying, and you’re not sure how foolish that deep loyalty is in your decision making but the decision has been made.

“I’m gonna rip your fucking throat out and shit down your neck if you don’t get the fuck out of here.” Max warns. “Don’t fucking bother staying around.”

“Baby.” The way Derek turns his eyes to you in the dark is practiced. Measured. And more than a little demanding. “Are you gonna let him threaten me like that, little girl?”

Once upon a time it was baby girl. Crooned and sweet and sighed in your ear to make you feel completely complacent and like he was where you belonged. It was a trick. A nasty, dirty one, and you’re ashamed of yourself for ever falling for such an obvious act. “He can threaten you however he likes,” you tell Derek, though your voice isn’t as strong as the words are. “The second I give him permission, he’ll kill you.”

Derek scoffs and shakes his head. “No he won’t, because he isn’t gonna go to jail for you.”

Max chuckles. “Wanna bet, fuckface?” He growls. “Besides, they would never find you after I’m done with you.”

“They wouldn’t.” You know that. Hell, considering who Max’s sire — your own grandfather is — you doubt there would even be a body left to find. “You should go, Derek.” The kindest thing you can possibly do for this piece of shit is warn him off, but you know that he won’t listen to you. Not now. He never even did when he was pretending to love you.

“I’m not leaving without what is mine.” His face twists into one of pure rage and he reaches into the pocket of the thin jacket he is wearing. The gun in his hand was not what Max had been expecting. Nothing in your few stories about the bastard had ever indicated that he had a penchant for brandishing a weapon. His fangs instantly descend and he’s clenching his fists together as his nails elongate into claws.

The world seems to go into slow motion all at once. As soon as you see the flash of steel in Derek’s hand your mind goes into high gear. You barely register Max’s growl or Derek’s shouting, or even the unsteady pounding of blood in your own ears. All you can think in this split second of terrified panic is that Max is about to be shot. If ever there was a time for your magic to manifest itself, let it be with this moment of intense emotion.

According to all of your grandmother’s letters — and the memories that have begun to spill back into your mind from their locked away place — you have more magic in your little finger than you do strength in your body. And that means something when it’s said about a dancer. Your body propels itself forward, voice calling out to Max to be careful, but all your thoughts are on all the things that will never happen if Derek pulls that trigger. No more dances. No more feeling Max’s heartbeat when you kiss him. No more reading aloud to him. No more dreaming. You’ll never get to spend innumerable lifetimes with this man that you’ve fallen so deeply in love with. That you want to marry. And hadn’t Yayo said his line could even have children? Without Max you would never have the strength and support to try going back in time to see your mother and grandmother again.

“Stop!” Your hand connects with Derek’s wrist at the same moment your other touches Max’s chest, and you push yourself between them with purpose. Only to feel the world turn upside down a moment later.

Max is furious when you move in front of him, knowing that it’s him that can handle whatever this little shit can throw at him. “Noooooo—” his angry yell rips out and he grabs your arm just as something happens and suddenly he feels like he’s being tossed in a tornado.

Rougher than Dorothy getting tossed into Oz, you find yourself face down in the dirt with one hand still clinging to Max just seconds later. It’s darker, somehow — the glow of festive lights from the nearby farm deadens so the moon and stars seem brighter but only from the loss of competition. There’s panting to your other side, and you scramble to your feet to grab the gun that has fallen out of Derek’s hands. Your desire to never touch a weapon in your life is far outweighed by your desire to protect your soulmate.

It takes Max a second to orient himself again, whatever you had just done had fucked with his equilibrium. Taking him longer than normal to situate himself and immediately zooms over to you as soon as you reach the gun.

“Are you okay?” Nothing else matters, and the moment Max is at your side you are wrapping one arm around him tightly and clinging carefully to the butt of the gun with the other. “I-I—I don’t think— I mean I tried to cast a protection spell,” you blurt out, rushing and stammering through the words.

“Are you insane?” Max huffs, shaking his head and his own hands slide over your body to check you for any injuries. “How could you step between me and a gun?”

“He was going to shoot you!” It was instinct, pure and simple, and the grumbling moan that comes from a few feet away signals your entire system to flood with adrenaline all over again. Derek is on his knees in the grass, shaking his head as you raise the weapon with shaky hands. “Was I supposed to just let him hurt you?”

“He wouldn’t have hurt me unless it was a wooden bullet to the heart.” Max huffs, still shaken by how you could have been killed. “Don’t ever do that for me again.”

It isn’t until he spells it out for you that you even realize the stupid mistake you made, and your eyes grow even wider looking at the weapon in your hand before you drop it to your side and instantly look around for a way to get rid of it.

“Goddamn fucking idiot—” As he starts to clamor back to his feet, Derek is cradling his head on one side and practically snarling at you. “What the fuck do you think you’re doing charging at me like that you stupid bitch? I should kill both of you!”

Max’s fangs come down again, beautiful and deadly as he grins. Hoping the bastard keeps coming. Even if you don’t want him to kill Derek, he’s going to.

“What is the meaning of this!” a scandalized voice rings out, and Max pauses, turning to see none other than Mrs. Taylor.

“Mrs. Taylor!” The surprise of seeing her out here outweighs anything else and you jump back, dropping the gun into the grass in the process but Max steps forward immediately to cover half of it with his foot and discourage Derek from trying to grab the thing. “What are you doing here?” In the dark of night, it is difficult to see that her outfit is nothing like what you are used to seeing her in, and clothing certainly isn’t where your mind’s focus is right now.

“I could ask you the same, dear girl.” Her voice is more prim, accent a little crisper, and she surveys your group with the air of a captain on deck of his ship. “Alone with two men unchaperoned. And dressed as a boy! You will be lucky if I do not inform your family. And what could you gentlemen possibly mean, cornering a young lady in the dark woods like this? Anyone would think you had no breeding at all.”

Max relaxes slightly, smirking because he knows that Mrs. Taylor won’t put up with any nonsense out of Derek. Even if she doesn’t quite know who you are yet. There’s a little bit of a reckless history in her past and he flashes her his fangs. “The lady is my wife.” He tells her. “The man is a delusional ex-beau who refuses to believe that we are honeymooning.”

“I see.” The honorable vampire draws herself up to her full height and sets her eyes on each of you carefully. “Then you will attend to the matter yourself? There is nothing but privacy, of course, this late into the night.”

Max hears you inhale roughly and he sighs. Rolling his eyes at the inability to tear the rat apart. “My wife is tenderhearted.” He tells the older vampire. “She does not wish for me to take his life.”

“Why are you being so weird?” Nothing about anything makes sense right now but maybe you’re just missing some kind of vampiric social intricacy.

“You have clearly been unsettled by this intrusion, ma’am.” Mrs. Taylor never seems to break her poise, and as she steps forward into a shaft of moonlight you see that the thing you missed isn’t an intricacy, but something very obvious. The dress she has on is one that you saw in the attic of the mansion barely a week ago. One she said was one hundred and fifty years old. “Allow your husband to escort you home. This gentleman will trouble you no further.” She assures you with a demure, polite smile.

“Come, my dear.” Max turns towards you and even though you are in modern clothing, he offers his elbow to you like he’d seen his sire do with Cookie hundreds of times before. Mrs. Taylor is about to dispose of his problem and while he would love to stay and watch, you shouldn’t. “You don’t want to see this.”

“Don’t walk away from me.” Derek spits, finally pushing himself up on his feet. He must have hit his head on a rock because his hair is matted with blood. “What’s some middle-aged bitch in a Halloween costume gonna do? Scold me?”

She’ll do a hell of a lot more than that if you so much as say the word, but for a moment you truly consider amnesty. But he was going to kill Max. That was his intention, anyway. And while you have taken endless worlds of abuse from him for yourself, you can’t let that intention against your soulmate stand. There is anger brewing in you from that intention. There is so much anger, and a decade of frustrations, fears, and failings to cap it off with. Swallowing the lump in your throat, you lean over and pick the gun up again to hand it to Max before you turn back to Mrs. Taylor with eyes of stone. “No one will miss him,” you tell her with certainty. “But he still should not be found.”

And understanding passes through her eyes and she nods once. “I assure you, he will never be found.” She says before she turns back to the man who is stumbling forward.

“You stupid bitch, you think you’re through with me? You aren’t done until I say you’re done.” He yells, balling his hand up into a fist.

Despite having an inclination of how poorly your magic obeyed you when you tried to protect Max, your hand shoots out to stop Derek’s just as his juts out. His fist collides with your palm, but instead of hurting you, he yelps in pain and recoils in shock. “I am through with you.” You tell him steadily, though you’re disappointed to find that your palm produced no flames when you look down at it. You had intended to burn him with fire but it seems like your hand only temporarily turned to a lava-like texture. It still did the job though, if the way he’s cradling his hand is any indication. “The whole world is through with you. And history will completely forget your name, just like I will.”

His hand is injured but his ego more so. “He will be bored with you in a week.” He spits. “I was. But I just let you hang around like that unwanted stray.” He wants to lash out at you, feel that hurt rolling off you again. It feeds his need to push around someone else, props him up.

“You wanted someone around to pay your bills.” It hurts to admit, but they say the truth will set you free. In a way, as distorted as it is, it feels a little true. “Go to hell, Derek. And make sure you let the Devil know who sent you when you get there. He’s a friend of the family.”

Max doesn’t allow the shit stain to say another word, whisking you away so you can’t see what Mrs. Taylor does, but within seconds, a panicked, tormented scream starts to echo in the woods. Stopping a few seconds later, nearly five hundred yards from where you had last seen your ex, Max keeps you close.

You shudder visibly, leaning into Max’s side and burying your face in his chest. “Tell me I did the right thing?” You beg quietly, knowing that he deserved worse but not feeling good at all about being the one to deliver it.

“You did the right thing.” He promises sincerely, turning into you and pulling you closer. “He’s— he would have continued until he hurt you again, or worse.”

"He was going to hurt you." Or he thought he was. He intended to. And that matters far more to you than anything else. "And I couldn't—" Your voice cracks a little and you sigh, eyes closing against the weighty truth of the moment. "I couldn't let that happen."

“Sweetheart,” Max sighs softly, pressing his face to your hair and inhaling your mouth-watering scent. “At the risk of sounding completely sexist, I’m supposed to protect you.” He hums. “You are so much braver than you give yourself credit for.”

"It's not about being brave." He said he would protect you and you believe him, but if he's focused on you then he's likely not protecting himself as well as he could. It's a vicious cycle that flashed in your mind and left doubt there, which you are not fond of. "It's..." You sigh into his sweater. "It's that I love you. And I can't stomach the thought of losing you."

“You won’t lose me.” It’s a hollow promise since he’s been brought back once before, but he still kisses your forehead. “You’re stuck with me.” He stares into your eyes and cups your cheeks, making sure you are looking at him. “I love you, Queenie, my queen, my soulmate.”

“And…apparently…your wife?” You do have to crack a smile over it, even as dower as this moment might be otherwise. “That was a surprise, I admit.”

“You will be.” He predicts with certainty. “But…sweetheart, we – whatever you did – we have time traveled back to your letters.”

“No we did not.” There is no way. It’s just not something you’re capable of. “I couldn’t even cast a Protection spell when I tried to. Or conjure a simple flame. There’s no way.”

“Did you see the way that Mrs. Taylor was dressed? The lights have changed and it smells different.” Max insists. “We are back in time.”

The fact that you noticed two of those things doesn’t quite deter your stubborn incredulousness. But it doesn’t stop you from burying yourself against his chest again and shaking with anxious fear. “What—” You blow out a long breath. “What if I can’t get us home again?”

“Obviously you do.” Max reminds you quietly. “Because the letters continued.”

“This is insane.” It feels like a trick. Like the twist of some Halloween film you turned in on Netflix out of boredom. But it is as real as the grass under your feet or Max’s arms around you.

“We need to find Mr. Taylor.” Max huffs. “If she is here, I know he is also around. The best thing we can do is get to the house.”

“What do we even tell them?” You look up at him with doubtful eyes. “We can’t just spew out that I’m family. Who knows when we are? My mother might not even be alive yet.” To make this remarkable journey and not see her would feel awful, but it isn’t as though you simply set a destination in your GPS and drove back in time. This all happened by accident.

“My sire will know that he has made me.” Max promises. “He can smell blood. He will be able to smell your blood as well.”

“I’m not sure if that’s comforting or not,” you admit with a weak smile. But there isn’t time to protest more, as Mrs. Taylor walks out of the woods looking as put-together as ever. Not so much as a hair is out of place.

“That was an unfortunate tasting gentleman.” She huffs and smooths down her dress. “Now, wherever did you come from?” She asks as she looks up and down at your clothing. “Obviously not from around here.”

“It is…a very long story, I think.” Looking over her now, in the clear moonlight, there is no denying it. Mrs. Taylor may look exactly the same as she did this morning in the dining room of your house, but she is also a much different version of herself. And her appearance is undeniably old fashioned. “Unfortunately, it seems that we are without a place to stay or any of our luggage. And…as you will understand…my husband,” calling him that is so odd and yet feels so right. “He is not everyone’s ideal guest.”

“You will come back to the estate with me.” She decides with a jut of her chin. “My mistress will sort everything out and her soulmate has the same inclinations as your husband.”

“We…know of your mistress,” you murmur, looking around to make truly sure there is no one to overhear you. “As her husband shares the inclinations of my own…so, so I share with your mistress’.”

Her brow furrows and she is curious about how you know about Cookie Brown. “A vampire and a witch… interesting.” She looks past you to where her own soulmate is pulling into the clearing with a cart. “And our ride.”

“I suppose it behooves you both to get work done at night.” The cart is full of barrels and things stacked up under oilcloth, and you accept help from both Max and Mr. Taylor in getting you up onto the bench of the cart.

“Our skin is sensitive to the sun. We cannot be out for many hours during daylight.” She explains. “But your husband should experience the same issue.”

“He does.” You reach for Max and squeeze his hand once he’s seated behind you. “Our…carriage…has darkened windows. To allow him comfortable travel.”

“That is good. Modern conveniences have made our existence easier.” She nods as the four of you start to move. “What brings you to our area?” She asks. “There has been no request for a coven transfer.”

“I am afraid it is not an easy matter.” And you have no idea if you’re even talking the right way, let alone explaining yourself well, but so far just pretending you’re in a Jane Austen novel or an episode of Downton Abbey seems to be working. “But my husband and I had thought to take a house here in town.”

“I am afraid that you will find that houses here are few.” Mrs. Taylor hums. “My mistress and her soulmate built their estate.”

The carriage ride takes far longer than the little ride in Max’s sports car did to get out here, but that isn’t necessarily a bad thing. It will help you to get a handle on the situation, if nothing else, because the situation is a very big one. “We have heard it is very grand.” You commend, nodding at the mention of the house you’ve come to think of as home. “With forty acres and a view of the sea, they say? It must be very grand.”

“People love to talk.” She’s suspicious, but you look familiar in some way although she cannot pinpoint how. Something about your eyes.

“They do.” Sensing you might be overstepping; you walk back your interest and squeeze Max’s hand gently. “Thank you again, ma’am. For helping us.”

“My mistress would be very upset if I did not help someone of her kind in need.” She tells you.

“But you did not yet know that your mistress and I were alike when you stepped in.” The smile you offer her is sincere and deeply felt, and you practically bow your head. “We are most grateful.”

“I heard the shouting and the vile curses.” Her placid expression turns into a fierce frown. “Disgusting man. Were you really entangled with him before?”

"I cannot deny it." Though you dearly wish you could. Although...none of that matters now. It is over, done with, and truly a thing of the past. An irony which does not escape you at all. "Before I met my husband, of course." You add quickly.

“Meeting one’s soulmate has a way of making the past fade from memory, does it not?” Mr. Taylor is the one who speaks up, looking fondly as his own.

There is no way to deny that, and you turn back to Max again with the sort of honest smile that seems specifically reserved these days to be just for him. "More than I ever could have expected."

“Again, we thank you for your hospitality.” Max murmurs. His fingers slide under your shirt to caress your skin reassuringly.

"The master will be about when we arrive, no doubt, and he will see to any arrangements for you after I have explained how we have all come to be acquainted." Mrs. Taylor tells you both. "And, of course, your lady wife will require rest."

“She will.” Max acknowledges with a nod of his head. He’s drained after whatever magic spell you used so he knows that you are probably even more tired due to still being human.

Conversation is polite but not overly familiar as the ride drags on, and by the time the horses are pulling the four of you down Bellevue Avenue with Chateau-sur-Mer in sight, you're practically asleep on Max's shoulder. It's only the sight of the house that perks you up again, realizing that you've come back in time far enough that the landscaping is drastically different. The huge weeping beech outside your front door is nowhere to be seen and neither is the hedge maze in the north garden. For the first time you realize that your beloved teahouse might not be here, either.

“Wow.” Max whistles and shakes his head. “Those hedges can hide so many bodies.”

Mr. Taylor chuckles, glancing over at their passenger in amusement. "The upper class like to play at a bit of mystery. Keeping the house half hidden is a game the mistress likes to play."

“I like the idea of privacy.” He admits. “They should have kept them. It complements the gothic vibe of the house.”

"Should have?" Mrs. Taylor raises one eyebrow in question as her own soulmate steers the horses and cart toward the service door of the house on the other side of the east wing.

“An estate we were close to, back home.” Max supplies quickly, with a shrug. “They tore out their maze.”

"A shame." That has the vampiric housekeeper nodding in understanding. "Such a feature is a talking point, at the very least. One that humans seem to enjoy very much." When the carriage comes to a halt, Mrs. Taylor lifts herself out with ease and dusts her hands on her skirt. "Come inside," she beckons toward the service door. "I will have you wait below stairs while I inform the master of your circumstances."

Max helps you down and immediately takes your hand. “It will be alright.” He assures you softly, aware that Mrs. Taylor can still hear every word he says. “We are safe and together.”

"This is where I feel safest," you tell him honestly, holding onto his one hand with both of yours. Whether the assembled vampires take that to mean this house or with Max is up to them. "It's all just...so much has happened the last few days. And now this?"

“At least now, you completely understand that the visit was a joy. You can relax.” He smirks, squeezing your hand. “And we can still sleep in the same bed. Or…you can sleep.”

"I will return momentarily," Mrs. Taylor tells you with a polite smile before she disappears up the stairs faster than any human housekeeper would ever be able to manage.

“At least we know the layout.” He jokes quietly as he pulls you closer to cuddle against him. Knowing that despite the letter, you are anxious.

“I guess that’s true.” Despite it, though, the nerves running through you are heavy and stinging. What was once a perfectly beautiful date night has spiraled out of control. “I just hope you’re right and he lets us stay.”

“He will let us stay.” Max is confident in that. He might not understand the connection quite yet, but the blood running through your veins is his and he will smell it.

“I hope so.” The house might be the same but all the mechanisms are different. The Viking appliances that outfit the current kitchen are obviously nowhere to be seen, and the great, coal burning, cast iron monstrosity that sits against the wall here looks more complicated to use than you could ever wrap your head around. Mr. Taylor pops in and out of the delivery door toting things off the cart from the farm with his immense strength but does not use his uncanny speed, and you wonder if he is trying to be discreet around a mortal. That sounds just like him.

“This is like living in the twilight zone.” Max snorts and shakes his head and looks around the vastly different kitchen. “I wonder what the bathrooms will look like.”

“Rene said the master bathroom on the second floor was the only bathroom on the second floor until the renovations they did in 1872.” Leaning into his side, a layer of anxiety and tension eases away when Max’s arms come around you and hold you tightly against him. “From the look of the house, it’s after that. But I saw the formal entrance on our way in, and that was closed off in 1893, so we’re somewhere in that twenty-year span between renovations.”

"So how old was your mother during that time?" Max frowns slightly, trying to keep the timeline in order in his mind.

“Yayo said they built the house when abuela Cookie was pregnant, so…at the youngest maybe around twenty? Or as old as forty, depending on what end of that spectrum of time we’ve arrived in.” It’s mind boggling, but the idea of seeing your mother again makes you feel infinitely less dreary about the entire prospect.

"We should not say anything about our true origins until we speak to him." Max tells you. He knows that you would never affect the future on purpose, but you might slip up and greet her as your mother and you can't do that. Not when you haven't been born yet. "We will see what your grandfather says."

“Believe me, I’ve read enough time travel stories and seen enough movies to know that you don’t fuck with the timeline.” The prospect of it terrifies you, if you’re honest, and you have to shake it off quickly. “I’m done with changing anything. But…what’s done is done.”

"Absolutely." He nods quickly and his fingers squeeze your reassuringly. "Do not even think about that unfortunate episode at the farm. "We know it was successful because she had written to you about it."

“I’m glad you’re here,” you murmur into his chest, knowing he’ll hear you all the same. “I think I’d be scared out of my mind if you weren’t.”

"I'm glad I'm here too." He admits quietly. "Although.....my phone doesn't work here." He jokes, attempting to lighten the worry and unsettling unease of the moment.

For just a second you think he might be serious, but in looking at his face, your lips twist into a smirk. “I’m sure your clients will forgive a short absence.”

"I need to text." He huffs, playing up the joke a little more. "My fingers are burning with the need."

“Then I suggest you learn the art of sending a note,” you murmur, hearing very deliberate steps out in the servants’ hall. “Because until I can learn how to send us back correctly, I can’t just take a chance on my magic getting us home by accident.”

"I am sure that with my business savvy and romantic heart..." He grins at you and winks. "I will be sending missives that will stand the test of time." He vows, holding his hand over his non-beating heart. "Love notes, dirty notes."

Mrs. Taylor clears her throat politely in the doorway and nods in an equal sore off manners. “Follow me,” she intones, and it feels very much more like an order than a suggestion.

He raises his eyebrows and makes a comical face as she whirls around and the two of you follow her down the hall. "I have to admit that the lanterns give the hall a proper....austere look." He whispers to you, fully aware that Mrs. Taylor can hear him.

“The estate has the finest of everything available to it.” She commends, heading for the servants’ stairs at a brisk pace that gives Max no trouble but you have to hurry to keep up with. “It is the greatest house in Newport without competition.”

"I am sure the Vanderbilts would disagree." He chuckles under his breath.

The absolutely derisive huff Mrs. Taylor exhales is fully for show, and you have to admit that you love her for it. She obviously doesn’t care a fig for those new money millionaires who built up the palaces along Bellevue Avenue that are now museums. “That cottage they bought from Mr. Lorillard is no match for a house of this grandeur,” she asserts proudly.

Max snickers, appreciating that he can still get under her skin and yet she's just as poised as she always is. "Of course not." He agrees with a serious nod. "Peasant’s cottages."

Your little trio emerges upstairs and Mrs. Taylor deposits you in the library with one more polite nod of her head. “He will be in momentarily,” she tells you, before heading back to the servants’ side of the house. If you Mrs. Taylor at all she’s off to make up a bed and probably a tea tray, but that is just a guess.

Max snorts as he walks around the room. "Good to know they still had the same taste back then." He tells you. "Or is it now?" He asks with a tilt of his head. "This is going to get confusing."

“Aren’t you the one who always says the house is a time capsule?” The chair sitting at the large library desk isn’t exactly the same, but it was definitely from the same maker. Maybe even the same set. “Fair warning. If Yayo makes me wear those giant dresses while we’re here, you’re going to have to help me keep my balance.”

He throws his head back and laughs just as the door opens and your grandfather appears. “It seems as if I have missed a joke.” He muses, his sharp eyes narrowing on the two of you.

Whatever instinct it is that’s ingrained in you, the relieving sight of your grandfather almost makes you stumble forward to hug him. It’s only the fact that you are holding Max’s arm that stops you, and you end up nodding nervously. “We’re…very sorry to intrude like this,” you start, hoping that sounds appropriately contrite.

“No, no you are not.” He hums, arching a brow. “You are relieved, but not apologetic.”

"Sorry to intrude," you clarify, though you swallow thickly at the fact that this is obviously not the doting grandfather you knew as a child. "But not to be offered sanctuary. In that, you are correct."

“And why should I offer sanctuary to a vampire and his mate who somehow smell like my progeny?” His head tilts and his fangs descend into a pair of sharp needles extending from his gums.

There seems to be no beating about the bush tonight, and you look over at Max with a plaintive expression though you both know that this is your story to tell. "Because we are." You tell him honestly, keeping your voice as whisper quiet as you can possibly manage. "In different ways. And it is a long story, but we didn't come here with any...nefarious purpose. In fact...it was an accident. Sort of."

In the blink of an eye, your grandfather is beside you, his hand around Max’s wrist and his fingernail sliced into his skin. The elder vampire's lips wrap around the wound as he tastes the other vampire’s blood and he reels back. “I have never seen you, yet it is my blood that travels in your veins?” His voice is astonished and mystified as he stares at Max curiously.

"I am afraid it is...an unusual story." And one that you are going to have to tell, whether you like it or not. A fact which makes your heart thump with nerves.

He turns to you and leans in close, inhaling your scent. While you are human, you are the soulmate of a vampire. To touch you would be a grave sin. “You smell like my daughter.”

“I should.” You don’t flinch the way someone else might have when he gets close to you and he notes it with a flick of his eyes and nothing more. “I am her daughter.”

The smell of you proves that, but he knows that his daughter hasn’t given birth. “Explain.”

“I…attempted a spell that was more powerful than any other I have tried before.” It isn’t worth mentioning that you haven’t tried much of any spell work at all before, so you keep that to yourself. “But I was able to make us travel through time by some mechanism that I don’t yet understand.”

“And my biological granddaughter managed to transport herself and her soulmate – my vampiric offspring – back in time.” Your grandfather fills in, talking mostly to himself. You nod and he is silent for a moment. “We will keep this to ourselves.” He decides, softening immediately. “You will be related through your soulmate.” Turning towards Max, he arches a brow. “What is your name? I must know it at some point, since-”

Max introduces both of you, making sure he calls you Queenie like you had discussed before. If Yayo is going to be the only one to know the truth, it makes sense to just be straightforward about most things. What you don’t want to do, however, is influence any future decisions if you can help it.

Your grandfather nods. “Cookie will be interested to meet you. As well as your mother.” He cups your cheek again and stares at you, memorizing your face. “You are beautiful. Do I tell you that in your proper time?”

“You do.” His cool hand is a welcome sensation against your hot skin and you nod softly against it. “You are always very kind to me.”

“Good.” Your answer pleases him and he smiles, his fangs once again hidden from sight. “Cookie will have settled down for the evening, so I will show you the bedroom Mrs. Taylor has no doubt prepared for you.” He glances at your clothes. “She will sort out suitable clothing. You cannot wear that.” He gestures towards your outfit.

“It certainly doesn’t seem that way.” Which is frustrating, if not realistic. You like your clothes most of the time. “But��what should we call you?” You ask after a moment. “I can’t go around calling you ‘grandfather’.”

“As you can imagine, I have had many identities through the times.” It’s almost bragging, but not quite. “For now, I am John Jacob Brown, residing here with my wife, Cookie and our daughter.”

“Mr. Brown.” Of course that makes perfect sense, and you nod accordingly. But it does make you wonder what his original name was. “And she is…here? Now? Annie?” It’s impossible not to ask, even though you know you shouldn’t make a big deal out of seeing your mother.

“By now, if you have come from as great a time in the future as I imagine, you know by now that your mother is far older than she appears.” He smiles proudly, happy he can provide centuries of life to his offspring to enjoy. “Right now. She is thirty-one. A ‘spinster’ by the collective society, yet she still receives callers regularly.”

“I would guess that most of society does not know her real age,” you venture, before looking up at Max. “Mom always had a baby face. It really was impossible to know how old she was.”

Your grandfather’s eyes flicker between you and your partner, not missing the terms you are using to describe your mother. Past tense, as if she is no longer in your life. “She appears to be eighteen.” He nods and Max snorts. “Sweetheart, you should look in the mirror. You don’t look twenty-one yourself.”

“It runs in the family,” you joke quietly, always glad for any way you could be positively compared to your mother.

“Have you eaten?” Your grandfather asks and then shakes his head. “I meant the vampire; I know that Mrs. Taylor has prepared a tray to have sitting in your room.” His eyes crinkle in amusement.

It is something of a comfort to know that Mrs. Taylor has always been the same, and you smile at how pleased the vampire housekeeper would be to know that the house still operates like a well-oiled machine under her supervision. “Actually…Mrs. Taylor takes wonderful care of us, still. So Max had blood at tea today.”

“I see.” He nods in understanding. “When you are needing some, we have a donor, so the supply is fresh.”

You both thank him, not wanting to say too much about your own time and give away more than you have. When Mrs. Taylor appears a moment later to escort you to your room, it is only at the prospect of sleep that you really start to feel how exhausted you are.

“Don’t worry, Dolly.” Max murmurs as the two of you are guided through the familiar halls. It’s not as if you can say that you know the way since you’ve supposedly never been in this house. “I will not leave you during the night.”

The third-floor guest room you are shown to has a big, beautiful canopy bed carved in Chinese imagery and with a typically Chinese element in the carvings. Renee had told you once that he took Cookie to China when they were first married and she had loved it there. As far as you know, this is known as the Gold Room, and judging by the even more brilliant color of the gold silk brocade wall coverings and golden bedclothes, it probably is called that in this time as well.

“The bell cord is right here.” Mrs. Taylor wraps her hand around a gold braid rope. “If you require anything, just pull it sharply and we will be up.”

“Thank you,” a simple nod seems to work best, but you chew your bottom lip nervously and add, “for everything.”

“My pleasure.” She nods and motions towards the sitting area. “There is a tray with some refreshments if you wish.”

“Thank you,” you murmur again, barely stopping yourself from assuring her that she always takes such good care of you. Yayo says your origin needs to remain a secret from everyone else, and you absolutely understand why.

Once Mrs. Taylor leaves the room, Max turns to you and cups your cheek. “When you want to talk about it, sweetheart…why don’t we call it ‘back home’?” He suggests. “I know this will be hard, but we can do this, we did this before.”

“It’s hard to wrap my head around.” With your face in his hands, your shoulders droop from pure exhaustion rather than anything else, and you sigh. “We’ll say we’re from Tennessee? Since that’s where we would have met if things had gone differently?”

“Perfect.” He winks at you. “I’ll adopt a hillbilly accent and everything.” He teases, knowing that he was nothing but happy in Tennessee before he was kicked out of Vanderbilt.

“Don’t push it.” Even though you try for a warning tone it comes out in a laugh. “I’m so fucking grateful you’re here, honey. I couldn’t do this without you.”

“Sweetheart, we are in this together.” He promises, leaning in and giving you a soft kiss on the lips, relishing the sudden bump of his heart. Something he doesn’t know if he will ever get used to and he loves it.

“I’m very glad to hear it.” Without that solidarity, with his utter and complete support, you really don’t know how you would manage whatever is to come. But with him? You just might be able to make it work.

______

Master Tags: @pixiedurango @chattychell @winter-fox-queen @lady-himbo @artsymaddie @princess76179 @paintballkid711 @missminkylove @pedrosbrat @ew-erin @sarahjkl82-blog @sharkbait77 @justanotherblonde23 @lv7867 @recklesswit @mylittlesenaar @f0rever15elf @gallowsjoker @steeevienicks @athalien @sherala007 @skvatnavle @thatpinkshirt @jaime1110 @girlimjusttryingtoreadfanfics @goodgriefitsawildworld @greeneyedblondie44 @katheriner1999 @littlemousedroid @harriedandharassed @churchill356 @ajathegreats-blog @haylzcyon   @beardsanddetectives @kirsteng42 @ladykatakuri @adancedivasmom @madiebear @tanzthompson @emilianamason @bigsdinger @xocalliexo @pedr0swh0r3 @avaleineandafryingpan @charlyrmv @avidreader73 @iceclaw101 @loveslide @elegantduckturtle @becsworld @julesonrecord @its-nebuleuse @itsrubberbisquit @mikeyswifie @guelyury @lizzie-cakes @for-a-longlongtime @vabeachazn @purplerain04

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My Masterlist!

#Pedro Pascal #Pedro Pascal character fanfiction #Pedro Pascal fanfic #Max Phillips #Max Phillips x you #Max Phillips x reader #Max Phillips x female reader #Max Phillips x f!reader #The Thief #Bloodsucking Bastards #Casillero del Diablo #soulmate au #mysterious inheritance #time travel #character death

[tamhrayis]

I brought a theory from Reddit.

Disclaimer:

I am here to not disrespect the author by any means. I simply have questions as a person who is reading it and pointed out which parts are confusing. It’s up to you to believe this theory or not.

What’s more, reborn Ymir will be in the same position as 2000 years ago – the Founding Titan's shifter. BUT, this time she's free. Therefore, once she pops out and gets her abilities back, she can do whatever she wants with them. She no longer needs to be commanded by royals, which gives her the ideal opportunity to conclude everything. [How does Eren know that an infant can assist him in such an endeavour?]

Well...Ymir was definitely not free, but Ymir wasn’t born with her abilities. She got them because of hallucigenia attached to her back when she fell into that water in the tree. She wasn’t born special.

Another point. How Ymir being born with titan powers will stop the cycle of hatred?

Zeke’s death was a necessary distraction, deliberately included by Isayama to divert our attention. It tricked us into thinking that the baby inheriting Zeke’s titan is relevant as it would help Eren resume the Rumbling. But that’s not the case. The child will indeed inherit the Beast but what’s important here is the baby inheriting the Founder (what Isayama tried to hide behind Zeke’s death). Also, his death served the purpose of stopping the Rumbling as it is not needed anymore. Most of the world's population is already massacred. [What was the point of Zeke dying? Will the baby inherit the Beast Titan?]

Hm...Yeah, Zeke’s death indeed helped to stop the rumbling, because Eren could reach the Paths because of him and killing him stopped the whole process, but why would Isayama make such a distraction at the last third chapter of the whole manga? Shouldn’t he kill Zeke before, so Eren and Historia’s plan would work and it had more screen time?

“In a vision, Eren saw that Ymir will be reborn after his death. He told Historia that he has to figure out which random child will inherit the Founder”. [“What would you think… about me having a child?”]

Which vision? Ch.1 or after kissing Historia’s hand? Ch.1 vision was Eren and Mikasa’s shared dream and we still don’t know what exactly Eren saw while kissing Historia’s hand.

Of course it’s safe to say that it was his future memories, but it yet has to be revealed.

Random child. How Eren can predict that the baby will be Historia’s? Does he know how many pregnant women are there on Paradise? Okay, let’s say that it’s FT and Paths magic, but can he control which child will be born with Founder’s powers?

It would also explain why Historia didn't appear in Ch. 138 – if Isayama showed the baby coming out seconds after Mikasa decapitated Eren then it would’ve been obvious what’s going on.[“What would you think… about me having a child?”]

Chapters are 45 pages long. Why Isayama didn’t cut out some panels and didn’t put it here? Why not to show it right after the kiss page? Distraction?

Moreover, Ymir is smiling at Eren and Mikasa not simply because she saw affection. Yes, she does care about bonds but another thing could be that Eren's plan downed on her – she connected the dots and figured out that it's now her turn to contribute and complete the mission Eren wordlessly gave her. I believe next chapter will start with her disappearing from inside the Founder's mouth and switch to her being born. [“What would you think… about me having a child?”]

Okay! I agree with the part that Ymir smiled at Mikasa and Eren because of the affection they showed to each other and the part that she will contribute to the “mission”.

They showed affection to each other. Why would Eren show affection to Mikasa if he is having a child with the woman he loves?

What about the hallucigenia? Will it still stay there or disappear with her?

Immediately after she cries for the first time, all Eldians will perhaps be summoned in Paths, where Eren will be waiting. To their surprise, he will announce the end of the Titan Age. Then, Ymir will make the command and Paths will begin collapsing. Eren will hold her in his arms as all traces of titans disappear. "You're free." will collectively be directed to Ymir and all of her Subjects. [What will happen after she is reborn?]

Hold on. Can the power of Founder be shared between two people? Is it like One for All? If Ymir was born with FT, doesn’t that mean that Eren no longer has FT, AT and WHT? How Ymir can summon them? She is an infant. She doesn’t have a proper consciousness to purposely summon everyone into Paths. Where AT and WHT will go? To random Eldian children or Ymir?

It has always been suspicious as to why Eren teased Zeke about them not reaching "the part where he eats their old man". It's strange that Grisha gave Eren the power of the titans when beforehand he begged Zeke to stop him. The only logical thing would be that Eren showed him what I described above: the resolution. [What did Eren show Grisha?]

Wait. Why would Grisha be this heartbroken and scared if Eren showed him the resolution? He doesn’t look like crying from happiness. Sure, he was crying because he killed children and others, but why would he look at Zeke like that? He was in literal pain.

What used to be nonsensical before is now super logical. Grisha and Kruger were not helping the Alliance because Armin’s TnJ (talk no jutsu) worked. They aided them because beforehand Eren revealed the truth of what is to come and that they will NEED to kill him in order for Historia’s baby to inherit the Founder. Basically, they didn't feel sympathy for Marley all of a sudden – instead, they were helping Eren in liberating Eldians from titans. [Why did Grisha and Kruger help the Alliance? Why did Ymir revive them if they were going to go against Eren?]

Well...Besides Grisha and Kruger, Marcel, Ymir, Mr. Xavier, Porco and Bertholdt were there. Did they want to help Eren too?

As it has been confirmed by Isayama's notes on Ch. 138, it’s not an AU. So we should probably forget about time loops. It's a dream. Eren entered it (through Paths, duh) as he wanted to convince Mikasa to behead him as fast as possible as they have no time left. Him joining her is why Aaron Yogurt dream Eren got shifter marks on his face and why in Ch. 1, he saw this particular moment. [What’s up with Mikasa’s hallucinations?]

Oh! “A long dream” topic again. I went to the link author put and this is what I see (see below).

Okay, let’s say that he entered it via Paths, but why not to straightforwardly say that? Why to create a dream where they live happily? Why to show this hug, “I want to live with you for the rest of my 4 years”?

I don’t really like the time loop concept myself, because I don’t like time travel stuff, but why then he saw the exact same dream in ch.1? Something is not clicking.

The former will likely return to being humans. There’s no reason for them to disappear as they’re material beings that exist in the physical world – what will be removed is just titanization. Plus, with this, Eren will keep his promise of his friends living long lives. Though, this is something I cannot predict properly and just speculation. The latter will be free from the Curse of Ymir (good luck, Reiner, no dying for you). [What will happen to the titanized Eldians and titan shifters?]

Fully agree! No debate.

There's no question really. I feel like it should be self-explanatory after everything discussed so far. The farmer being Ymir's father would be a more shocking twist than Eren being the dad. [Is it sure that Eren is the father?]

Why wouldn’t Isayama add a plot twist into his story? It’s not hard to do. But Isayama’s plot twists work because he visually foreshadows it or uses characters’ dialogues. He already has showed us farmer. Why he is here? For cover up? Why would Isayama put these words if farmer is unnecessary? Why not to add more information?

To stop the cycle of violence and hate once and for all. If Eren removed titan powers without the Rumbling, most people (especially Marleyans) would’ve still despised Eldians and they would've just been defenseless. So Eren wanted to prevent that. [Why did the Rumbling have to occur?]

I agree with this. Rumbling was a cause for people to work and stop fighting each other as I said here. Rumbling plan was very risky, but it was unavoidable, because Marley is way more advanced and Paradise would terribly lose. Good point!

But why would Historia, who has decided to live for herself agree with Eren’s plan? How would she benefit from it? Okay, she and Historia are in love, but why would she want the person she loves to become a mass murderer? Why she couldn’t stop him? Why she was crying when he told his plan? She is a royal blood after all too! They could come up with another plan which wouldn’t involving Zeke.

I assume it would just die/disappear/go back to the tree it emerged from. [What about hallucigenia?]

Where’s that tree? How it will get there?

In conclusion, the theory isn’t bad, but it would work if Historia and Eren had more set up, the importance of Zeke would be explored a little more here and ch.138 didn’t have clear symbolism between Eren and Mikasa. There’re some holes, but the author gave some good points, which is truly appreciated!

#it’s theory time #attack on titan #shingeki no kyoujin #eren jaeger #mikasa ackerman #eremika #zeke jaeger #snk 138 #snk spoilers

[letusmeetagain]

Death

I suddenly recalled that the following theory of mine was mocked.

When chapter 130 came out, I was re-reading chapter 88 and found quite intresting the coincidence of topics that also explained the weird overlap of panels in chapter 130. What had Mikasa’s feelings for Eren to do with the pregnancy and so on..? While it’s true that all those three points (Floch, the pregnancy and the convo with Zeke) pointed out every single step Eren took to prepare his plan, I do believe there is something hidden and of course the focus isn’t a fathership but another kind of argumental connection.

It’s about death. Specifically, Eren’s death: the sole connection between him and that baby.

I tried to summarize the connection of all the topics between both chapters in this image.

In chapter 88, Eren’s death to the curse was introduced for the first time, a topic that Eren brought in ch. 130 as a reason to reject a future with Mikasa who would be the person to suffer his loss the most and that also represents the importance of his existence and will to come back home. Mikasa asking him constantly to come home means the aim to stay alive and his rejections are due to (the multiple factors I’ll sumarize with one concept) “his fate“ that doesn’t let him stay alive/come back home. And since it’s his fate, he was never meant to be able to keep his promise to her: the real tragedy.

Just a brief side note: If I consider this as a symbolic death, the choice of going along with the rumbling and leting his violent side take the control means  that the Eren who gathered and deserved Mikasa’s love “died”.

Back to the relation between both chapters, an important pattern to highlight in both chapters are the mention about a death and a new life. This points out a different way, a more natural one, to hand down the power we never heard about and whose details and consequences we don’t know either. Regarding the new life (baby) that should inherit the power, I want to remark the statement about the blood relation and distance not being important at all.

Another coincidence is chapter 108. It beginns with the meeting of the MPs talking about the reasons behind Historia’s pregnancy and then Mikasa recalls the conversation about Eren’s successor as the next FT/AT.

Previously, this text was in chapter 107, points out the fate Eren would be choosing since hid birth as if his death and the birth of this baby, were the conclusion of this chain reaction. (I repeat: technically, there’s no need of blood relations :)

The last two chapters also recalled this again:

Chapter 133 ended with 13 blimps heading to the AT (death) and chapter 134 (13″4) began with the birth of Historia’s child (new life).

---------

Finally, I summarized some points from canon that point out to Eren’s death:

1. The curse itself that also provided him another reason to struggle to give his existence a meaning through a big deed/sacrifice.

2. The motto: “The price of searching for freedom is death”. (hinted by Grisha in ch. 87/8 and before the ceremony in ch. 90)

3. The two times that this profecy stated by Shadis “His life is like a blazing fire. And I’m sure that fire will burn him to ashes outside the walls”, and this quote from the final exhibition “By now you already know. That in this world there isn’t just one truth. There’s only one sure thing, and that is that you were born here. That’s why, keep choosing your own truth. That’s why, keep advancing until the life you were given will have exhausted its flame.” (credit for the transl. to yaboylevi)

4. Eren’s own conception of justice: “animals don’t have the right to live” that now turns against himself since he became one of them.

5. Last chapter when the officer wished for a new era of peace where they part ways with their monsters and the AT is shown... It’s not refering to the titans but the monster everyone can become by commiting a violent act. Now, Eren became the sole monster facing this attack and the question is if it is possible for him to have a place in a pacific era.

Eren’s death would have a symbolic meaning about humanity finally refusing violence and giving up on revenge. It seems that Eren chose to let his urge of freedom and violence unleashed because he can’t go against it and lets now the world try to restrain it and decide if he has a place in the future.

If Eren was aware of this or not... I don’t know. I do risk to say that he new his death could be a possible outcome which he would accept. At the time where he answered Zeke in regards of Mikasa’s feeling for him that he would be dead in 4 years he may have been aware that maybe this battle now would be his last mission. This also fits with the theory of Eren going along with a kamikaze mission.

Still if this happens or not, is something yet to be decided. Eren for sure was aware of this and maybe planed to hand down the power to the baby. If it happens, I guess we will get to know how a natural inheritance works. It’s also possible that the paths stop working. But I’m expecting that someone comes up with a solution to this question.

#snk spoilers #shingeki no kyojin #ending theory #eren yeager #Mikasa Ackerman #snk #snk 134 #aot #aot spoilers #attack on titan #snk 130 #snk 88 #snk 133

[sparkle9510]

Baby Robins and Tiny Ladybugs Ch. 1

Okay, it’s been years since I actually wrote fanfics so let’s see how things goes from here. I’ve been reading a lot of Daminette and I think it’s really cute. It’s one of my favorite crack ships. (Yes, I get that some characters are ooc but you know what, this is just for fun, so let’s just enjoy it guys xd)

I give credit to @ozmav​ and everyone else who wrote daminette fics before this cause I probably read it and got very inspired. Y’all are amazing.

With that said, let’s begin~

(Let’s hope the writing makes sense and isn’t too rushed cause I wrote this at 3 in the morning)

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Masterlist

Next

Damian sighed. It’s been a few months since he had become Robin, a few months since his father had died and Grayson had taken on the role of Batman. However, that also meant guardianship over Damian. 

It was not... a bad thing, so to speak. Under Grayson’s tutelage, Damian is learning a few new skills. However, his upbeat attitude and lack of firm resolve to end people will probably be the end of him. After all, Grandfather and Mother had taught him that lethal actions are faster and more efficient to end crime. If only Father and the fake heirs he had taken in could understand. 

However, his heroic alter ego was not the reason for his annoyance. Currently, they were on a business trip in Paris. Grayson thought it would be beneficial for him to experience what it would be like, which Damian believe it would be. He was to inherit it (after he gets Drake’s name off from being heir to the company) once he was older. If only that was the case… No, he ended up being pushed aside, deemed “too young” by the business partner they were meeting. Now, he was stuck wandering around in the hotel.

Might as well explore, Damian tsked. Grayson wouldn’t mind. He knew Damian knew how to take care of himself. Turning around, he walked off, down the hallway. He passed by a huge room, seeing a short Asian woman and a huge French man set up baked goods. With no doubt this was the destination of the gala that will be held tonight. Before he could continue his thoughts, he soon felt a huge force rush into him and knock him onto the floor.

“S-sorry!” the girl in front of stammered. “Way to go Marinette, your clumsiness strikes again.”

“I would say,” Damian huffed. “Do refrain from knocking people over.”

“Here, lemme help you up,” the girl reached out with her hand. “I’m Marinette Dupain Cheng.”

“I don’t need help from elephants who cannot control themselves from running over others,” Damian pushed the hand away before picking himself up. “Your assistance is not needed.”

“You don’t have to be rude about it,” Marinette frowned. “It was an accident and no one got hurt. You should apologize for being mean.”

“I have no incentive to apolo-” Damian started before his ears was soon pinched and twisted. “What is the meaning of this?”

“Apologize,” Marinette demanded, earning a glare from Damian. “Maman says if you say something rude, you should apologize. So, until you apologize, I’m not letting go.” 

Damian muttered a curse, trying to pull himself away, but damn this girl had a good grip on his ear and even tightened it. 

“What was that?” she raised her eyebrow. 

“...I apologize,” Damian muttered reluctantly after a few moments of failed escapes. 

A minute or two passed before Marinette decided to let go, seemingly satisfied with his apology. Damain tsked before rubbing his ears, relieving it from pain.

“Anyways, you’re not from around here aren’t you?” Marinette asked, her expression no longer of annoyance, but of curiosity.

“I do not see the need to inform you of my status,” Damian huffed. “...but yes. My brother is currently negotiating a contract with a potential business partner and I was unfortunately seen as dead weight.” 

“Well then,” Marinette grinned, swaying in place, “why not hang with me?”

“For what reason do I need to hang out with some hooligan I’ve never met,” Damian narrowed his eyes, “and someone that is not worth my time?”

“Well, it probably would be nice to have someone familiar with the city,” Marinette huffed in returned, crossing her arms. “and I so happen to be the perfect candidate, so not a waste of your time.”

Damian glared at the girl. She refused to budge from her offer to show him around. Sighing, he crossed his own arms and agreed. 

“Perfect!” Marinette grinned, grabbing his arm. “Let’s go!”

-----

Damian had to admit. The girl was not as useless as he had thought. She did know her surroundings and gave him adequate info about each place. She showed him her school, the hotels, the Louve, the stores, the parks, anything that she knew, she ranted about in details.

And running around with her was surprisingly tolerable. Putting her first actions aside, she was not as rude or aggressive as he had thought. And she had even gotten him to open up a bit about himself as well. 

“What’s your name?” She had asked him while giving him the tour. “Sorry, after all this, I forgot to ask.”

“Damian,” he replied. “Damian Wayne.” 

“It’s nice to meet you,” Marinette smiled. “Bad first impressions aside. I hope you find Paris.” 

Damian was a bit stunned. He wasn’t exactly polite either, but she still had put in some effort to ignore that and continue talking to him. She didn’t even have a big reaction after hearing his last name. Did she know about how influential his name is? Did she not care? She didn’t pry for a lot of information as well and left many things alone. Perhaps she was not that type of girl.

“What kind of places do you like to go to?” Damian’s mouth moved before he even realized what he was going to say. 

Marinette looked a bit surprised, but took it in stride.

“I love going to the park or the museum to get inspiration,” Marinette grinned. “I love clothes, and I can’t draw well yet, but I want to be a fashion designer. There’s also a fabric shop I like going to cause of that.”

“Where’s the fabric shop?”

“Down the street over there! Would you like to come? It’ll be nice to have someone to go with.” 

“Don’t you have friends who would accompany you?”

Marinette frowned and looked away. 

“...I don’t exactly have friends,” she spoke quietly. “Chloe usually keeps everyone away from me that I can’t make friends.”

“Oh,” Damian simply said.

He inwardly cursed at himself. She says she’s being bullied, but all he can do is say ‘Oh’? He should probably do something. What did Grayson always do?

“You’re mistaken,” he fumbled a bit. “Since you’ve been gracious enough to spend some of your time to show me around the city, I guess you could say we’re more than acquaintances. You’re more tolerable than most I have met in my life.”

Damian felt his cheeks get a bit red before looking away. However, it didn’t take long for his attention to turn back when he felt her grab his hand. 

“Thanks Damian,” Marinette smiled brightly. 

He couldn’t help but notice her eyes were very vibrant and filled with life. 

“It’s nothing to be grateful about, Marinette,” he replied, choosing to use her first name. “Now let’s head over to the shop. I only have a limited time before I must return.”

-----

“So, how do you like these crepes?” Marinette asked. 

The two were at a small cafe, eating a bit of lunch. In an hour or so, they would have to return to the hotel they left. Damian, to return back to Grayson and Marinette, back to her parents. 

“It’s adequate,” Damian shrugged. 

“Are you sure it’s just okay, Damian?” Marinette smiled. “They’re one of my favorite!”

Staring at the food for a sec, he pushed his plate onto Marinette. 

“You can have the rest,” Damian said nonchalantly. “I believe you would enjoy it more than I would.”

“If you’re sure,” Marinette pouted. “but you have to have my Chocolate Mousse.”

With that, they exchanged their food and ate them. Though at some point, they did steal the other’s food to take a bite once again.

-----

“That was good,” Marinette hummed. “Though I guess it’s time to head bac-”

Before she can say any more, she was interrupted by a shout. They both turned to the side to see someone running towards them. The stranger had dark baggy clothes and a hat covering his face. In his hand was a purse, the purse of the woman he just robbed.

“Stay back,” Damian started, but before he could continue any more or get into action, Marinette was already on the move. 

She raced to the man and easily slipped under to trip him before wrapping her body around to restrain him. Her flexible and graceful act had Damian stumped and still, however the criminal’s grunt of surprised pain gave Damian a quick wake up call to get into action as well. As the man got up, Marinette slammed him down once again before grabbing his right arm and pulling it back. She then began leaning down to try to hold him there, but she was just 10 as well, too young and lightweight to keep him there. There, Damian went and kicked the guy in the head, knocking him unconscious.

“Angel, are you all right?” Damian asked, checking to see if there was any wounds. 

“I’m okay..?” Marinette was a bit shocked. “Angel?”

“Ah,” Damian’s face grew red once again. “I apologize. Your behavior today, how kind you were after I was rude to you and how righteous and graceful you are reminded me of an angel. I won’t call you that if it bothers you.”

“N-no no!” Marinette stuttered. “It’s fine! I don’t mind! I’ll just find a nickname you’ll be okay with too.”

“That sounds fair,” Damian nodded before turning towards the woman rushing after them. “Mademoiselle, I believe this belongs to you.”

“Thank you,” the woman sighed in relief. “I wouldn’t know what I would do without this. Thank you both!”

-----

“I guess this is it,” Marinette smiled sadly. “Our only day we could ever speak or see each other?” 

“Maybe not,” Damian smirked. 

He pulled a napkin he took earlier and a pen he kept on him. Writing down his contact info, he gave it to Marinette. 

“You can talk to me on this,” he told her. “Feel free to talk to me anytime about anything. Though if the talks end up being irrelevant or nonsense, I’d have half a mind to end it all.” 

“Thanks for everything, Damian,” Marinette hugged him before walking off. “I’ll be sure to contact you soon!”

Damian nodded and watch as she disappeared from view. As the only person he had as company, she ended up not being as bad as he would believe her to be. And she had somehow managed to worm her way into his soft spot, certainly faster than how Grayson and Pennyworth were, albeit reluctantly so. Perhaps what Grayson was teaching him had a bit of meaning. There were more to life than just the legacy and what the League of Assassins had taught him.

“Little D!” Grayson grinned. “How was exploring Paris?”

“It’s none of your concern, Grayson,” Damian replied curtly. “Though it wasn’t intolerable.”

Next

Masterlist

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Well I hope you guys liked it xd. I have some more ideas so maybe I’ll write more, but exams are coming and I’m gonna be busy for a bit. Though if I’m hit with procrastination, I’ll see if I can come back to this. 

Have a good day y’all!! <3 

#daminette #marinette dupain cheng #ml #miraculous ladybug #maribat #maridami #alya salt #lila salt #no adrien salt though guys #fanfic #Baby Robins and Tiny Ladybugs #childhood friends au #I need to find a better title #not beta'd #hopefully it's good #my fanfic #edit: #not that salty after all #class sees sense after a while

[itmighthavebeenintentional]

Shackled Chapter 10

Summary: After nearly ten years, Sam Winchester calls Miriam Bard to collect on a life debt. Unfortunately for Miriam, Sam leaves out a few important details.

WARNINGS CHANGE EACH CHAPTER, PLEASE CHECK EACH TIME. 

Warning: Show level violence, implied loss of family, grieving, depression, spiraling, cursing, mentions of Demon!Dean, emotional manipulation, mind fuckery, psychological manipulation, questioning one’s sanity, emotional exhaustion, suicide attempt, mention of previous suicide attempt.

Word Count: 3165

Author’s Note: Please read the warnings. PLEASE read the warnings. Thanks to @cracksinthewalls​ for the mega beta. Also, please read the warnings.

Please read/heed the warnings. 18+ ONLY. 

In case you missed it: Ch 1 | Ch 2 | Ch 3 | Ch 4 | Ch 5 | Ch 6 | Ch 7 | Ch 8 | Ch 9 Masterlist

Chapter 10

Miriam didn’t know how long she’d been sitting on the bedside, staring at the gun clenched in her nerveless fingers. How did she get here? She'd been standing in front of Dean, reeling from the terrible truths he’d forced her to face, and then she found herself here.

In the unfamiliar, anachronistic setting of her room in the bunker, no sound except the barest whisper of the air system, Miriam was blurry and out of focus. She couldn’t feel the bed beneath her legs, the freezing floor under her feet. 

Was she even awake?

Doesn’t matter, she thought. Everything he’d said was true. He had seen right through every one of her denials and shattered all of her self-crafted delusions. She had failed everyone and everything of consequence to her. At this point, it no longer mattered how or why. She had nothing left but the pain.

She took in a slow, shaking breath through her nose, let it out through her mouth.

Setting him free was out of the question. She wasn’t going to beg him, compromise the last shred of self she had left making a devil’s bargain, and he knew it. Dean was right. She had one choice left to make, one more chance to get it right.

One way out.

She stood, legs moving of their own accord, and crossed the small room. She rested the gun on the rim of the sink, staring down at her fingers as they gripped the cold metal. One more breath, in then out, and she looked up into the mirror. 

Aaron’s face looked sorrowfully back at her. She drank him in, the rip of his loss tearing deeper. Her empty hand traced the lines of his forehead, his cheekbones, the nose their family had inherited from generations back on her mother’s side. When she met his gaze, she saw tears in his eyes as he raised his palm, and she pressed her hand to the image of his.

Her mind flashed back suddenly, and she was standing not in the bunker but in the rundown motel room she and Aaron had rented for that last hunt. She’d come back two weeks after his funeral with the desperate idea that she could find something he might have imprinted on, some object holding his spirit so she could conjure him, tell him to his face she knew how badly she’d messed up.

That she was sorry.

She’d stared into the mirror for hours, and he had stared right back, but she knew in her heart it wasn’t really her brother. The despair had swelled, risen to a crescendo, and she’d raised the gun, placed it to her temple, gone so far as to cock her weapon. She stood, shaking, staring in the mirror until her nerves and her hand failed her.

When the sun rose the next day, she unloaded her gun, shoved it to the bottom of her duffel, and didn’t look at it again until nearly a year later when Sam Winchester called in her blood debt.

Failure upon failure.

“I’m sorry,” she whispered. Her own face was wet, cold, but she kept her hand pressed to the glass. “I love you.” Then Aaron was gone, and she was left in the empty room, her stricken reflection gazing back at her. Alone. 

Yeah, that makes sense, she thought. One last breath, in then out. I can do this. One last chance to get it right. 

She raised the gun.

Before she could draw back the hammer, a hand shot across her field of vision, closing around her wrist and pulling her around. The gun fell from her grip as she reflexively shoved at her attacker. She jerked to the side, her lips drawing back in a desperate snarl, and struck with her free hand again.

“Miriam, stop! It’s me!”

Sam’s frantic voice reached her through a storm of anguish, and she stilled in his grasp. He kept his hold on her forearm, his face flushed with confusion and dismay. They stared at each other, panting, for a long, loaded pause before Sam finally broke the silence.

“I’m sorry,” he said. Maybe he was apologizing for leaving so much out before asking this of her. Maybe he was apologizing for asking this of her at all. Maybe he was expressing empathy at her whole situation. Whatever the reason, Miriam’s heart began to calm at his words. Her expression must have relaxed because Sam’s shoulders slumped as he let out a breath and released her arm.

“I called to check in before the priest started his ritual, and your phone went straight to voicemail. I got back here as fast as I could. What-”

Miriam drew back her fist, catching Sam across his cheek, snapping his face to the side. She felt this punch like she hadn’t felt any of the times she hit Dean, and it shocked her arm all the way up to her shoulder. It hurt like hell, and she felt relief spreading through her abdomen.

“We need to talk.”

Sam straightened and turned back to her, his face comically stunned. He opened and closed his mouth a few times before clamping his lips shut. His eyes clenched shut, and he sucked in a steadying breath as he pinched the bridge of his nose with his good hand. Then he opened his eyes and gave her a tense, tight-lipped smile. 

“Yeah. We do. Hungry?”

…

Neither of them knew the best place to start, so, as they began assembling some sandwiches, Miriam simply began updating Sam on everything that had gone down since his departure. She figured there wasn’t much point in hiding anything that had happened; Dean would probably tell Sam anyway, if for no other reason than to get under both their respective skins.

Recalling the order of events was difficult, she realized, and when she added up how little time had actually passed, she was shocked. 

It felt like at least a week, she thought. 

Sam managed to hold his tongue through her entire recounting, though his face had gone through the full spectrum of reds and purples when she’d told him about the nightmares. When she got to her very last encounter with his brother, Sam nearly cut off his finger along with the cheese he was slicing. 

The choking noise coming from his mouth didn’t do anything to alleviate her concern.

After he caught his breath and chugged down the glass of water Miriam provided, he and Miriam moved over to the long table, sitting side by side. Miriam didn’t know about Sam, but she didn’t particularly feel like making eye contact with the younger Winchester just now, even if his coloring was gradually returning to normal.

Though both of them needed the fuel, neither Sam nor Miriam seemed particularly inclined to eat.

“Your turn,” Miriam said, unable to stand yet another bout of long, uncomfortable silence. “You left me with zero clue and almost as little prep. What the hell, Sam, you and I are supposed to be the smart ones. What’s going on with Dean? This ritual?”

Sam’s eyebrows lowered, and he straightened, all set to put her off or argue, but he was cut off by the slam of her fist on the table. Their plates clanged, jittering dangerously close to the edge.

“Dammit, Sam, my life is literally on the line here! I don’t care about your bruised pride, I don’t care about your stupid secrets. You called me here, you exposed me to that demon with barely any warning at all. Tell me the truth, and don’t you dare try to bullshit me.”

She watched the wind drain from Sam’s metaphorical sails. His shoulders slumped as he propped his forehead up in his good hand.

“You’re right, of course you’re right. I’m sorry. Let me just...Okay, yeah. But it’s gotta be a summarized version, otherwise we’ll be here all night.”

He offered her a fragile half-smile, and though she didn’t return it, she relented enough to drop her scowl. 

“A while back, Dean got something called the Mark of Cain. Yes, the mark on his arm, and yes, the Cain. From the Bible. Long story very, very short. It ate away at him. Made him want, need to hurt, to kill. There was this old weapon, the First Blade, and we needed it to end this huge threat. And then…He...Dean died. I brought him back here, carried him…”

His voice trailed off, his lips working hard as his neck and shoulders tensed. He squeezed his eyes shut, and Miriam reached out, tentatively laying her hand on his arm. He huffed out a sharp breath and continued.

“And then he came back, but as a demon. He took off with...another demon, and they were gone for weeks. I hunted him, I never gave up on him. I...did some really terrible-”

Sam stopped, his lips pressed together so hard they turned white. He steeled himself and looked over, meeting Miriam’s eyes for the first time since they’d started talking. 

“I did what I had to, to get my brother back, and I will keep doing exactly that.”

There wasn’t much she could argue against that. She would have preferred more details about exactly what terrible things Sam had done, but Sam’s transgressions were irrelevant to their current situation. He would have to face his own consequences eventually, and her getting the dirty gossip now was not priority.

“So that mark on Dean’s arm more or less turned him into a demon,” Miriam asked, not sure what else to say.

Sam nodded, picking at the crust of his bread. “It was changing him even before he  died, but it brought him back. I’m not sure it will actually let him die,” he added. 

“And the ritual? How’d you even find out about it?”

Sam looked down at his plate again and sighed. “Okay, again, summary. We needed to cure a demon in order to complete a trial.” He held up a hand to forestall Miriam’s question, and she sighed.

“I told you, here all night. I don’t have that kind of energy right now. Anyway, we found out the Men of Letters had created a ritual to cure a demon without damaging the host body. I had to find a hospital with the right kind of priest, get the blood blessed. There’s a spell, and I have to inject Dean with the blood. It’s not the most pleasant way to spend a weekend, but it’s my only shot to get my brother back now.”

Sam let out his breath, rolling both of his shoulders back with a painful popping noise. He glanced over at Miriam again, chewing on the inside of his lip as if he were struggling with a decision.

“Miriam, I’m sorry. For all of it. I knew about Aaron, I should have thought…I just...It’s Dean, my brother. People are hurt because of me. I hurt...tortured. I tortured a lot of demons, but I had to. I couldn’t-”

“I get it, Sam. I get all of it, even leaving the admittedly big details out. I’m not happy about it,” she added, narrowing her eyes at him. He had the decency to look properly embarrassed. “And you’d damned well better not leave something that vital out again. But, then again, it’s not like I was one hundred percent honest with you, either. If I had been at all smart, I could have told you I was in no shape.”

“How are you now?” he asked. “How are you really?” 

“I’m...here,” she answered. “Dean really got into my head, like you said he would, but all that mess was there to begin with. He just...he knew how to stir it all up, knew exactly what to say to get me to react how he wanted. And I did.”

They sat for several moments, lost in the memories of their own transgressions. Sam finally let out a breath and stood. He rested his fingertips on the table, his injured arm fidgeting in the sling. His jaw clenched, tension in every line of his rigid stance.

“Miriam, I don’t know if this is going to work. I’ve only done this once before, and it definitely started to work then, but I didn’t get to finish the ritual. I already gave Dean the first dose before I came to find you, and he reacted differently than I was expecting. It’s going to take several more doses, but...look, I know I have no right to ask anything else of you…”

He trailed off, lips trembling as he pinched them shut. His eyes were shining suddenly, red-rimmed and small, and he looked terribly vulnerable. He glanced up at the ceiling, clearing his throat. Miriam’s heart twisted, and she stood, reaching out to lay her hand on his shoulder.

“We can back each other up,” she said, adding, “but I can’t be alone with him again.”

Sam shook his head, unable to meet her eyes. She continued.

“You need to know I wasn’t magically fixed when you stopped me firing that gun, Sam. I haven’t changed my mind. You need help, and that much I can do, as long as you’ve got my back. But after this, I’m done. With everything.”

Sam’s face was stricken as his fingers tightened around hers. “Miriam, you can’t-”

“It’s not your call, Sam. I’m not your brother; it’s not up to you to fix me.”

Sam flinched as if she’d struck him physically, but she didn’t relent, and eventually, he nodded, though reluctantly. She released his shoulder and busied herself clearing up the food neither of them had been able to stomach after all.

Time to face the music, she thought randomly. At Sam’s questioning glance, she nodded and followed him from the kitchen. They stopped just outside the dungeon, and Sam raised his eyebrows at her.

“Are you sure? After what you and he...you don’t have to go in here. I can…”

“You don’t know exactly what this treatment is doing to him, you said it yourself,” she reminded him. “You’re here now, he’ll have to split his focus. We’re stronger together. Let’s get this over with.”

Sam nodded, steeled himself, and stepped inside. Miriam followed suit; the moment she stepped through the door, though, she could feel a slight but palpable difference. The pull to go to Dean was diminished. The hunger she had to admit she still felt when she looked at him was duller, less fierce.

The demon in question also seemed a little more subdued, a little more cautious. Dean straightened from his tired slump, green eyes narrowing at the two of them. He frowned, evincing disapproval as he clicked his tongue at Miriam.

“You know, when I didn’t hear a gunshot, I thought maybe you’d just found a quieter way to do it. Figured somebody couldn’t possibly be that big a failure at absolutely everything, but here you are.”

Sam busied himself pulling a huge, blood-filled syringe from a cooler on the table as Dean continued to eye Miriam. She picked up the remaining flask from the table, making a mental note to ask Sam if he had more holy water stashed somewhere in the bunker. She unscrewed the cap and turned to face Dean.

“Or maybe you just need another push,” Dean said quietly. His eyebrows lowered as he smiled straight at her, leaning forward earnestly. “I could scratch that itch all day. Get rid of Sammy, here, and we can-”

She flicked the holy water in his face, and Sam went in with the needle as Dean flinched back. Her heart stuttered as Dean cursed and growled in pain, his breath coming in short, distressed bursts. His skin flushed, darker than the last time she’d splashed him. Sweat broke out across his forehead as he thrashed against the ropes, his tendons standing out harshly under his flesh.

“Sam…” Miriam started, but she didn’t know what warning she should give. The draw she felt from Dean was definitely less now, so the blood was doing something to the demon aspect of him. Dean didn’t look like he was being cured of anything, though. 

He looked like he needed help.

“I don’t know what else to do but keep going,” Sam whispered, half to himself. 

“You could start by letting me out of these goddamn cuffs,” Dean groaned, his head rolling back as he struggled to catch his breath. “You’re killin’ me here, Sammy.”

Sam started towards Dean, but Miriam grabbed his arm. He turned tortured eyes on her, but she shook her head, urging him silently towards the door. Dean might be genuinely in distress, but if what Sam told her was true, they couldn't do anything to help him except continue the treatment. 

Sam resisted for one more heartbeat before allowing himself to be led from the dungeon. Miriam resolutely shut the door behind them and turned to Sam.

“You did it. We did it. Now we’ve just got to do it another half dozen times or so.”

Sam snorted, running a shaking hand up his face and back through his hair. “Yeah, I guess so.”

“What now?” she asked. A yawn escaped her before she could stuff it down, and Sam paused, taking in her drooping frame and exhausted stance.

“I think somebody could use a nap,” he said with a tired smile. She raised her eyebrow sharply, and he held up his hand in mock surrender. “I know, I know, we both do. We’ll take it in turns. I’ll stay up while you sleep, then swap out.”

She hesitated, torn between the aching exhaustion wearing her down and the fear of what always came when she slept.

“Sam, I don’t want to ask this of you, but I…I already had nightmares, and since I came here, they’ve gotten worse. Could you...god, I feel so pathetic asking, but could you sit with me? Not on the bed or anything creepy, and I get it if you need to prep something else for Dean’s treatment, but…”

She stopped, breathed, and forced the words past the lump in her throat. “I need to not be alone right now.”

If Sam had done anything but nod and take her hand, Miriam was pretty sure she would have disintegrated from shame. Instead, he simply led the way back to her room and pulled a chair up beside the head of the bed.

He sat silently, eyes downcast as she splashed water on her face and let her hair down. Miriam kicked off her shoes with growing anxiety, but when she lay down on top of the covers and closed her eyes, she felt Sam’s rough, warm hand closed over her own.

“I get it, Miri. I’ve got your back.”

She fell straight into a dead sleep, and for the first time in a year, she didn’t have a single dream.

…

Chapter 11

#SPN #spn fic #spn fanfic #spn fanfiction #supernatural #supernatural fanfiction #Supernatural fanfic #supernatural fic #dean winchester #Demon Dean #demon!dean #Sam Winchester #original character #original female character #I am not known for being nice to my original characters #suicide attempt #mention of previous suicide attempt #Psychological Abuse #Psychological Manipulation #emotional manipulation #emotional abuse #depression #spiraling #I don't have a funny tag for this chapter #Sorry folks

[thisweekingundamwing]

This Week in Gundam Wing June 28 - 4 July 2020

Here’s this week’s roundup!

Remember to give your content creators some love! And join in on the events at the bottom!

~Mod Hel PS. So, I’m really bad at checking my email... I really need to get better at it. Some of these (which I’m sure will be new to a lot of you) are from long before this last week... whoops.

Fanfiction/Snippets/AU Ideas:

@bobo-is-tha-bomb​

Five dates with Mister Handsome https://wingqueero.tumblr.com/post/622383229580771328/five-dates-with-mister-handsome

1xReader (gender unspecified)

reader-insert, second person POV, fluff, romance

He was sinfully good looking and he had agreed to five dates with an idiotic drunk who claimed one single kiss was worth five dates. You couldn’t help but wonder why.

@coffeetailor​

Emergence (Ch. 11) https://archiveofourown.org/works/13322880/chapters/60710743

Duo Maxwell/Heero Yuy

Duo Maxwell, Heero Yuy, Quatre Raberba Winner, Trowa Barton, Chang Wufei, Sally Po

Crossovers & Fandom Fusions, borrowers fusion but don't call them borrowers, disturbing themes like people trafficking from the bad guys, Size Difference, Will probably be a series, alternate canon events, Macro/Micro

When the war ended, things went a little strange. First, Duo vanished after never having let them see him in person. Then, years later, a tiny race of people are discovered. And that's just the start of things.

Fun Curses with Catboys https://archiveofourown.org/works/25047898

Chang Wufei/Duo Maxwell

Chang Wufei, Duo Maxwell

magic transformation, Size Difference, catboy, Anal Sex, Post-Canon, Magic, wufei's a wizard, thar be porn

When Wufei leaves the Preventers, Duo goes snooping and finds out some things about his favorite (crush) loner. Like his hobbies in gardening, rare book collecting, and… magic? Probably shouldn’t have touched that, Duo. Good thing it’s a fun curse, and there’s a sexy wizard around to help out.

@chronicwhimsy​

Strangers (Ch. 6) https://archiveofourown.org/works/24357013/chapters/60473569

Chang Wufei/Duo Maxwell, Background Quatre x Relena, Background Heero x Trowa - Character

OC - Oliver McGann

Long Lost Twins, this was meant to be hijinks but then I got reminded these boys have Issues, Pining, Duo is a stressed-out jerk who needs a holiday, Post-EW, Frozen Teardrop can do one, sex in later chapters because this is me who are we kidding

If you said the word "brother" to Duo Maxwell, he'd think of the other pilots.

If you said, "no, your long-lost brother" to Duo Maxwell, he'd think of Solo and be very confused.

If you said, "no, your twin brother you were separated from at birth, and he's now working with the Preventers as a lawyer" to Duo Maxwell, he would go and punch his doppelganger.

Duo Maxwell isn't good at dealing with things, but unfortunately this particular thing isn't going to go away that easily.

@destinysblackrose​

It Takes a Legend... https://archiveofourown.org/works/25012021

Relena Peacecraft/Heero Yuy, Relena Peacecraft & Heero Yuy, Duo Maxwell/Hilde Schbeiker

Heero Yuy, Relena Peacecraft, Trowa Barton, Duo Maxwell, Duo Maxwell Jr., Hilde Schbeiker, Chang Wufei

Angst, Fluff, Domestic Fluff, Slice of Life, Duo's going to have his ribs broken, Gundam Wing children, #fatherhood, Fatherhood, Father's Day, Crass Humor, teenaged boy humor

“Listen, I can’t possibly imagine what it’s like to be you. You never had a childhood. And you never had a father—” 

“No,” Heero shook his head. “I didn’t. I trained to fight, to kill from…as far back as I can remember.” The visible side of his mouth, from Aidan’s vantage point, turned down.  

“It’s why,” he paused and picked up a wrench from the open drawer. “It’s why sometimes...I’m, I’m at a total loss…” He dropped the hand holding the wrench to his side. Aidan could see his knuckles change color where he throttled the metal implement.  

“Your mom is so much, better at these things… At being there for you.”

@doctormegalomania​

Introspective https://wingqueero.tumblr.com/post/622202012283584512/introspective

Implied 1x2, implied 3x4, implied past 2xH, past 1xR

self-exploration of gender identity and sexuality, reference to past sexual situations (non-explicit), candid conversations

Heero gives some thought to his sexuality.

Your Body’s Poetry (Ch. 20) https://archiveofourown.org/works/20438891/chapters/60737623

Duo Maxwell/Heero Yuy, Trowa Barton/Quatre Raberba Winner, Chang Wufei/Original Female Character(s), Relena Peacecraft & Heero Yuy, Duo Maxwell/Original Male Character(s)

Characters: Heero Yuy, Duo Maxwell, Trowa Barton, Quatre Raberba Winner, Chang Wufei, Sally Po, Relena Peacecraft, Lucrezia Noin, Zechs Merquise, Hilde Schbeiker

Past Relationship(s), Slice of Life, Post-Break Up, Slow Burn, Developing Relationship, Implied/Referenced Domestic Violence

Long after the wars, long after peace is established the Gundam Pilots discover one immovable fact: Relationships are hard work.

@duointherain​

Beneath: All Those Sounds https://duointherain.tumblr.com/post/622765434690781184/beneath-all-those-sounds-11

Notes: The boys are 35. They are married and they live in Seattle. Heero is a physician and a research scientist. Duo is a stay at home dad and a best selling novelist. They have twins who are spending the holiday with their grandmother Maureen and their godmothers, Rey and Precious. 

It didn’t take much. Neither of them said anything. The fireworks exploded outside their house, somewhere down by the water, far enough away that it was just a soft little press against the windows, against their souls.

Left on Read https://duointherain.tumblr.com/post/622787629087440896/fic-left-on-read-1

Duo Maxwell had decided, several years before, that he didn’t much like Preventers. At the time, he hadn’t know what he did like either. The therapist that Quatre had talked him into seeing had told him this was normal. Trauma would leave a person with little self, especially if the trauma had happened early and consistently. He had said quiet loudly, that day that he had plenty of self, everyone thought so! He was loud and brash and brave and drank too much, and had more lovers than she’d probably had in her whole boring life

@lemontrash​

The Morning Brightens https://wingqueero.tumblr.com/post/622390770875465728/the-morning-brightens

4x5

established relationship, coming out fic, fluff

After a night of not sleeping on it, Wufei discusses something important with Quatre.

@lifeaftermeteor​

Pride https://wingqueero.tumblr.com/post/622300166716833793/pride

1x2

pride parade, slice of life, fluff, asexual duo

Duo has only recently come to terms with his asexuality. It took him a long time to understand it, and even longer to embrace it as inherently part of himself. To celebrate, Heero takes him out onto the streets for New York City’s Pride.

@relenaforpresident​

Just Love: Queerness in Gundam Wing https://wingqueero.tumblr.com/post/622292634598293504/just-love-queerness-in-gundam-wing

No ships but reference to both 1xR and 1x2

non-fiction, personal essay, self-reflection, gender, queerness, fandom

A personal essay on how the Gundam Wing series and fandom community helped me change my personal beliefs on love and gender.

@simulacraryn​

Donguri https://archiveofourown.org/works/24733540

General Audiences

Choose Not To Use Archive Warnings

Heero Yuy, Odin Lowe

A short piece about Odin Lowe and his young protégé. This is an excerpt from a longer (discontinued) 2009 fic I once posted on ff.net ("Kaifuku"), but it can be read as a standalone piece.

Heero’s Inheritance https://archiveofourown.org/works/24658531

General Audiences

Heero Yuy, Odin Lowe

Illustrations, Headcanon

Just a short headcanon about Heero's past. Illustrated work.

TheManwell

A Season for Vengeance (Ch. 10) https://archiveofourown.org/works/22508074/chapters/53785717

Explicit

Trowa Barton/Duo Maxwell, Solo/Heero Yuy

Trowa Barton, Duo Maxwell, Catherine Bloom, Cathy's son (OC), Cathy's husband (OC), Heero Yuy, Zechs Merquise, Quinze (Gundam Wing), Solo (Gundam Wing), Nichol (Gundam Wing), Lucrezia Noin

dude in distress, Trowa for MVP, things that go boom, Backstory things, modern day AU, Sequel, alternating pov, Trowa POV, Duo POV

It's been over a year since Duo and Trowa escaped the pain and betrayal and danger of their pasts, went off the grid and started building a new life together. But when Duo's birthday comes and goes without a single obnoxious message from his older brother, they know something is wrong. It's time to break cover and check in. The only problem is that Duo's brother works for a powerful government agency, so making that call will put Duo and Trowa on their radar...

Fanart/Crafts/Photo Manips:

@antarespromise​

https://antarespromise.tumblr.com/post/622394387634257921

Quatre Raberba Winner, fanart

@bettertasting​

https://wingqueero.tumblr.com/post/622198278449168385/title-proud-artist-cindy-bettertasting

Gboys Pride Banner, @wingqueero​, fanart

@bobo-is-tha-bomb​

https://wingqueero.tumblr.com/post/622296415384764416/title-in-the-name-of-justice-and-love-artist

Pride Leo “In the name of Justice and Love”, @wingqueero​, gunpla

@coffeetailor​

https://wingqueero.tumblr.com/post/622303966073683968/title-special-delivery-artist-coffee

Duo/WuFei, @wingqueero​, fanart

@daddywarbats​

https://wingqueero.tumblr.com/post/622213395485229056/title-just-gals-being-pals-or-not-artist

Hilde/Relena, @wingqueero​, fanart

@deathscythehell​

https://wingqueero.tumblr.com/post/622209566153818112/artist-tami-deathscythehell-description-one

Duo/Quatre (best dads), @wingqueero​, fanart (comic)

@deejayers​

https://deejayers.tumblr.com/post/622482172907077632/and-wing-is-complete-talk-about-a-monster-this

Wing, gunpla

@gundayum​

https://wingqueero.tumblr.com/post/622439861179351040/hi-all-gundayum-here-im-gonna-try-and-not-make

Important Thank You, and some partied out WuFei, @wingqueero​, fanart

@gwfrozentears​

https://gwfrozentears.tumblr.com/post/622495742005772288/por-siempre-mi-pareja-favorita

Heero & Relena

https://gwfrozentears.tumblr.com/post/622493743305621504/he-comenzado-a-dibujar-nuevamente-inspirada-en-el

Heero

https://gwfrozentears.tumblr.com/post/622494840371970048

Heero

https://gwfrozentears.tumblr.com/post/622499630050066432

Heero

https://gwfrozentears.tumblr.com/post/622548456296300544

Heero

https://gwfrozentears.tumblr.com/post/622507185094721536

Heero/Relena

@lokineko​

https://wingqueero.tumblr.com/post/622205797731123200/title-quiet-happiness-artist-lokineko

Trowa/Heero, @wingqueero​, fanart

lotopauanka

https://wingqueero.tumblr.com/post/622288883271467008/title-just-married-artist-lotopauanka-social

Heero/Duo, @wingqueero, fanart

@oekakimemo​

https://oekakimemo.tumblr.com/post/622350648656134144/20200630-traditional-painting

Relena Darlian/Peacecraft, fanart

@page-of-wands11​

https://wingqueero.tumblr.com/post/622379476560609280/title-colourful-kiss-artist-page-of-wands

Heero/Duo, @wingqueero, fanart

@seitou​

https://wingqueero.tumblr.com/post/622394541550534656/title-pride-walk-artist-seitou-seitou-social

Pride Walk, @wingqueero, fanart

@tatakaumono​

https://tatakaumono.tumblr.com/post/621743027371819008/happy-24-day-pride-dont-tag-as

Quatre/Duo, fanart

@theboringbluecrayon​

https://wingqueero.tumblr.com/post/622387009366982656/title-family-pride-wip-artist-blue

Trowa/Quatre & Family, @wingqueero, fanart

Photosets/Gifsets/Screenshots/Manga Pages:

@bobo-is-tha-bomb​

https://bobo-is-tha-bomb.tumblr.com/post/622708372721025024/never-though-they-would-come-in-but-here-they

GW OST CDs, photo

https://bobo-is-tha-bomb.tumblr.com/post/622456639940919296/always-nice-when-the-mail-man-stops-by

gw artbooks, and other merch, photo

@cuteciboulette​

https://cuteciboulette.tumblr.com/post/622269950937186304/another-extract-from-the-cover-of-the

Heero/Duo, doujinshi “Toki no suna” by Sango Show cover

Fandom Discourse:

@2pcb has created a wonderful discord for gw artists who would like monthly prompts to get those creative juices flowing! DM them if you’d like to join!

@hanryuu would like to know whether anyone has translated the Blind Target drama cds. If you have any information on that we would be grateful!

Quotes:

@incorrectgundamwingquotes​

https://incorrectgundamwingquotes.tumblr.com/post/622379465062924288/duo-why-do-bigfoot-hunters-try-to-lure-him-with-a

Duo, Trowa, & WuFei

https://incorrectgundamwingquotes.tumblr.com/post/622560690151047168/wufei-we-can-talk-about-normality-until-the-cows

WuFei, Heero, Trowa, & Duo

https://incorrectgundamwingquotes.tumblr.com/post/622470062887075840/heero-run-thisdoesntbothermeexe-brain-file

Heero

Calendar Events:

@gwcocktailfriday​

Cocktail Fridays!

Post responses on Friday, during Happy Hour between 3 & 5 pm in your own timezone.

Here’s the prompt for Friday, July 10th! https://gwcocktailfriday.tumblr.com/post/622719166375493632/raspberry-mango-sangria-yield-1-pitcher-prep

In need of FALL/AUTUMN prompts!

@gwoc-october​

GW OC October 2020!

Help pick out prompts!

https://gwoc-october.tumblr.com/post/621130082429337600/hello-gundam-wing-folks-thats-right-gw-oc

@seasons-of-gundamwing

Voting Results: https://seasons-of-gundamwing.tumblr.com/post/622566396369485824/looks-like-well-be-doing-a-hilde-week-thanks-to

Summer of Hilde!

In need of prompts! https://seasons-of-gundamwing.tumblr.com/post/622567839387271168/summer-of-hilde-prompt-call

@wingqueero

Gundam Wing Pride Party 2020

Come check out all the amazing works! https://wingqueero.tumblr.com/

#Gundam Wing #This Week in Gundam Wing #Weekly Roundup #June 28 - 4 July 2020

[jugandbettsdetectiveagency]

six-ish sentence sunday

(from something I really genuinely want to have ch.1 finished of soon. like damn.)

She liked comfort and familiarity. She found it hard to look someone in the eye, let alone have their tongue in her mouth when they’d barely spoken two words to each other. Not opening herself up to the possibility of something with someone was a way to protect herself, from heartbreak—from failure. From making an irreparable fool of herself. Even if she wanted to be like Veronica she doesn’t think she would even know how to be at this point.

If she was honest with herself, it was just another facet of her life that she was controlling with rules and regulations. Some things just needed to be considered from every angle first.

Betty gratefully considers the conversation over when she hears nothing more than an exasperated sigh. Her relief is short lived.

“What about that DJ that couldn’t stop smiling at you at the disco on Friday night?” Veronica hums thoughtfully after a blissful intermission.

Betty wrinkles her nose. “He played Careless Whisper six times.”

“I’m just trying to provide options! But you’re right; he did seem like the type to have a secret murder bunker in the woods.” The sounds of splashing water and joyful screams take over for a moment. “How about that waiter that can’t stop looking at your legs right now?”

Betty sits up quickly, little sparks swimming before her eyes. She tucks her legs beneath her towel and surveys the poolside. “What, who? If you’re messing with me I swear…”

“Don’t have a coronary. Over by the bar, the one with the dark hair. Be discreet,” she adds in a hushed tone, sliding her sunglasses further up her nose.

Betty replaces her own sunglasses, pushing the hearts flush against her eyes to hide her gaze. The only dark haired body she can see in the waiters’ all whites has his head ducked behind the bar, hands busy with something she can’t see. She’s about to curse Veronica out for being so cruel but then she sees it.

From over the pool his eyes flick up, just for a second, before they drop back down to whatever he’s doing. He’s seen her looking back, she’s sure of it. The waiter is cast in shadow from where he stands, but Betty inherited her eagle eye from her mother—he’s blushing.

“Who is that? Do you know him?” she murmurs, shielding her face with a palm.

Veronica squints in an altogether non-discreet way. “Mm, don’t think so. Must be one of the new summer hires.” She claps her hands so suddenly that Betty jumps. “Wait, I think Archie mentioned him when we were over by the cabana the other night. He’s got a super weird name or something. I can’t say my attention was fully on the conversation...”

Now that he’s been pointed out Betty can’t stop sneaking glances at him, checking for what exactly, she can’t name. He’s probably not even looking at her—from eighteen years of being Betty it’s not like she’s collected much evidence to support Veronica’s theory. She notes several features that even she can’t deny are cute; he’s got a defined jaw and a degree of broadness to his shoulders despite a lean frame, and a lock of that dark hair falls over his eyes as he bends his head to his task in a way that’s pretty mesmerising.

#i feel like ive probably sss-ed this bit before but #i couldnt find it so idec