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wardenparker · 5 months

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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.

______

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#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

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yanderelovlies · 27 days

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Note: Little something I've been working on since I'm a bit bedridden at the moment.

Fandom: SWWSDJ

Character: Joseph

Pairing: Prince/King!Joseph x Assassin!Reader

You snuck around the corner trying your best to stick to the shadows. You were on your way to find the prince of the kingdom.Prince Joseph of the Cloud kingdom. He was next to take the crown, and your prince couldn't have that. For it was rumored that once Prince Joseph took the crown he was to take Your prince’s beloved hand in marriage. So you were tasked to take out the competition. As you got closer to the prince’s room you had prayed the job would be simple and easy. However when you creaked open the door to a pacing prince you knew this job would be anything but. To make matters worse the door creaking caught the Prince’s attention as he swiftly turned his head to the door. He was quickly on guard as he glared at the door. His hand on the sword you didn't notice till he was fully facing the door.

“No use in hiding any more. I know you're there so show yourself, and your punishment might be as severe.”

You hugged the wall and stayed silent hoping that maybe he would think he was hearing things. Unfortunately the quickly approaching footsteps told you otherwise. You don't know what god you pissed off to get this luck, but you were regretting it now. You flew back as his door swung open. Before you could make a quiet escape he rounded the corner, his dark eyes glaring at you. “You” He seethed, pulling out his sword pointing at your neck. “Who sent you? Was it my brother? Or perhaps my mother this time?”

Your eyebrows raised in surprise as you. You held up your hand shaking your head. “N-Neither..Prince Ian of the stars sent me…”

This seemed to piss of the prince more as he pressed the sword closer to your neck “Of course another swine after my neck. What for?”

You refrained from swallowing lest the sword blade pierces your neck “H-He heard rumors that you were to marry his beloved from the Sun kingdom.”

Its was the prince’s turn to look surprised before surprise turned into realization. “That wench! I should have known she was up to something with her sudden interest in my suitors.” He turned his head, mumbling and cursing under his breath. It took him a minute before he turned back to you. “Well I'm afraid your Prince had sent you here for nothing. I have no intention of marrying them. It was a ploy by my mother, Nothing more. You will die here knowing that Prince is a fool..”

Prince Joseph raised his sword ready to strike when you yelled ‘Wait!” The prince’s movements stopped, his eyes still glaring at you. Seeing this as you opportunity you spoke up “If you spare me I will serve and protect you. I was just an assassin The prince hired so I have no allegiance to him.”

Prince Joseph was silent before speaking again. “So what will stop you turning on me like you're doing to the one who hired you? What if my mother or enemies offer more money to you to end my life? How can I trust you?”

Know it was now or never you steeled your gaze looking up at him. “If you spare me then I owe you my life, and no amount of money could amount to that.”

The prince was silent once again as he studied your features before slowly putting away his sword. “Very well…..I shall put some faith in your words,but know I'm watching you.”

You let out a breath you didn't realize you were holding as you nodded. “Understood your highness.” You quickly got to your feet as you looked up at the taller prince.

“If you are to serve me as a protector then you must know what we are up against. Come, the only safe place at the moment is my room.” You nodded quickly following the prince into his room.

What you heard from the Prince you almost couldn't not believe. The younger twin brother Prince Jack was the favored of the two Princes. However because Jack was born minutes after Joseph he couldn't be crowned king. This didn't sit right with their mother who believed Jack deserved more than Joseph. So she was doing everything in her power to get rid of the older prince. Even going as far as to involve the other kingdoms.

Though it sounded like a lot of work guarding such a sought after prince you still did it. At first it was because your moral code would not allow you to betray him. Even when the queen offered you large gold amounts. The prince took notice of this and slowly began to trust you more. Even opening up as if the two of you were friends and not prince and protector. It was because of this bond that you did your job. It was longer about moral obligation. You wanted to protect your friend from the people who never gave him a chance.

Months turned into years and eventually Prince Joseph was crowned king of the Cloud kingdom much to his mother’s dismay. His first ruling as king was the silent banishment of his mother. Despite her distance you still get the occasional assassin, but it was nothing you haven't handled before. His second ruling much to his own dismay was to find a spouse. Most of his advisers would point out what they deemed to be good matches. Princesses of various shapes and sizes came to the kingdom in hopes of winning the new king’s heart and hand, and yet each one left more defeated than the last.

Rumors began to fly the longer the king stayed single. Most about his mother, and how her lack of love must have affected him. Past him would have agreed with such rumors considering all of the pain his mother had put him through.However as he once again meets with you in the confines of his room he finds that isn't true. He was just waiting for the right time to ask you.

“So what was wrong with this princess?” You asked as you cleaned your knife.

She wasn't you. Joseph hummed in fake thought. “There was no….spark.”

You groaned throwing your head back before looking back at him. “That's what you said about the last princess. You know your advisors aren't going to get off your back till you marry, and I don't know about you, but I'm tired of hearing Rory bitch all the time.”

Joseph chuckled, “He does get very annoying.”

“Then put an end to it and marry someone, Joseph. I would beg you at this point.”

Joseph likes the sound of his name on your lips. He liked it way more than formal names you had to call in public. He longed to hear you say his name more, and more. “Is that so? He teased.

“Yesss.” You groaned.

“In that case.” Joseph walked over to you gently taking your hands in his own. “Would you marry me y/n?”

He watched you eyes widen in shock as you dropped your knife. “W-what?” you stuttered out.

He gave you a gentle smile as he spoke. “I know it seems left field but I have been waiting to ask you. You are not only my closest ally, but you are my best friend. I cannot even imagine my life without you”

“But im just an assassin there is no way the advisors-”

He gently cupped your red face, catching your attention. “I am the king, not them. It was for this reason I waited to ask you. So no but you can decide.”

Kind like when you first met you were quiet as you searched his face. He wasn't sure what you were looking for, but he wanted you to know that he was serious about this. This was something he really wanted. After a few minutes you finally spoke. “I would love nothing more than to be by your side as more than just a bodyguard.

Joseph smiled wide as he pulled you into a kiss. This kiss was nothing like either of you have ever felt beforeThe world faded as the sparks flew.As the two of you pulled away you couldn't help but think Maybe you were wrong before. It wasn't a run of bad luck, it was the gods guiding you to Joseph. The one you were to spend the rest of your life with.

#sunny day jack #swwsdj #something's wrong with sunny day jack #x reader #sdj joseph #joseph x reader #sunny day jack joseph #sdj joseph x reader

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calmangel · 5 days

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No because why am I scared of being made fun of for loving these men when Destiel is probably the most beautiful thing ever created.

An angel pulls a righteous man from hell and heals his wounds and is so overcome with this triumph that he screams DEAN WINCHESTER HAS BEEN SAVED so loud that he awakens fallen angels. He rebuilds this man from dust. The man is scared of Castiel, they don’t trust each other, but they need each other—the man begs the angel to see why Heaven, why God’s plan is corrupt and the angel should trust him. Against nature, breaking from the script, against God, his Father—the angel rebels. The angel rips out the part of him that serves Heaven all for this man and only because he asks. Only because now he’s starting to feel, and angels don’t feel.

What’s coming isn’t an easy task—the man considers giving himself up but the angel won’t let him, beating him unconscious while yelling I rebelled for this? And still, when the day comes, the angel dies for him. The angel attacks his own brothers for this man, is incinerated instantly, and never gave it a second thought.

After the angel is resurrected, they spend years trying to fix everything for each other and almost always do it wrong. They are eventually sent to purgatory together, and the man spends every waking moment praying to his angel. He could’ve escaped, he could’ve been angry at the angel for his misdoings, but he stayed, ripping flesh and killing anything in his way to get to the angel. But he doesn’t understand—the angel, upset, says they’re after me, Dean. I avoid you to protect you. The man won’t listen. He can’t. He pulls the angel to the exit but their hands slip right there, on the precipice. And the man is so distraught that he tells himself he’d let go by accident, but we know this isn’t true. The angel wanted to stay, wanted to feel punishment. The angel saved the righteous man and stayed behind.

But they can’t be kept apart can they?

The angel finds his way back, like always, and Dean is seeing his face everywhere. Dean blames himself. It’s easier than thinking his angel wanted to stay. It’s easier than being abandoned.

Heaven isn’t happy with this angel—this silly thing that gave up its innate purpose and programming all for a human—so they attempt to rewire him, resorting to lobotomy as a way to force him into conforming. They create infinite copies of his human and force him to kill each one, testing his loyalties. And after all this, after being turned into a mindless soldier through torture, it only takes one thing to break the connection. Dean, on his knees, saying I need you.

And this does not fix everything. Now the angel is desperate to undo his wrongs, searching for ways to repay him; so desperate that he misplaces his trust and is irreparably damaged, intimately violated by God’s Scribe. His grace, every part of his angelic traits, is stolen from him, literally ripped from his throat before the Scribe sends all angels plummeting to the Earth. And now the angel is an entirely new species—a human, soft and vulnerable, with nothing to his name—a prime target of angry, wingless angels.

There is only one thing he can do. He can call his human, beg for help, but it’s not going to come quickly. He has to decide between eating and warding himself from his murderous siblings. He virtuously refuses to steal or hurt anyone. He just wants to be safe. He trusts the wrong person and, seconds away from being saved by his human, is stabbed through the heart. Although his brother is injured, Dean caresses his angel’s face and sobs, insisting that the entity inside his brother’s body fix Cas despite how it will hurt the entity and likely put Dean’s brother at risk. It doesn’t matter. Then they go home, and the angel feels safe for the first time as a human.

But nothing lasts forever. The entity inside Sam is anxious, insecure around Cas, and so Dean asks the angel to leave. For probably the first time, Castiel feels intense sadness. Betrayal. Grief. Stress. And it’s because of his human, the one human he was attempting to make everything up to before. Well, apparently he hadn’t done well enough. The angel leaves, still desperate for cash and food, resorting to sleeping in the storeroom of a gas station to stay warm.

The angel has to protect himself from enemies, stealing angelic grace just to keep going. At the same time, Dean takes on the mark of Cain and slowly loses sanity. The angel earns a league of likeminded angels that believe in him, and it finally looks like maybe he can do things on his own again. Naturally, this can’t last for long—his allegiance to this dangerous, marked human is too risky for any angels to trust him.

And his allegiance is tested, but holds strong. Dean can tear the angel to pieces and he’ll still lay there on the floor, unwilling to harm him, and Dean will walk away knowing he could’ve killed Cas but didn’t. Couldn’t.

Over and over, they fight together or they fight each other and it never ends any different. They stick together. They get angry about how the other is acting. And they stay, because leaving just isn’t an option.

The next time the angel dies, the righteous man isn’t the same. He can’t accept it now, now that it seems real and now that the angel was so solidly good, so individualistic and pure. He burns his body and watches, red-eyed. This time it’s real. This time God isn’t on their side to bring him back. So he does what he knows—he drinks, he hides in comfort, he puts himself at risk. He starts thinking that maybe the solution to their problems is for him to die—really, hadn’t they destroyed the natural order enough?

And then the angel calls him from a payphone and all thoughts of ending his life are wiped from his mind. Dean didn’t care how he’d returned, just brought him home and indulged in a way they never did—they took a fun case, they dressed up like cowboys and caught a bad guy.

They’re not allowed fun, though. They’re doomed by the narrative—the God that is insistent upon failure. Over and over they’re tested, and no matter whose mother is killed and whose psyche is broken by being blamed for it, they stay together. Because you can hate and love at the same time. Because you don’t really hate them.

And at the end of it all, they’re still together. In the angel’s last moments, it’s still only about his human. What’s important is getting Dean safe, is coming up with a plan that saves Dean. Because even though Castiel had all his grace, Dean was the powerful one. Dean was the one who needed to kill God, who needed to stay alive, and who deserved a life.

And the angel did the only thing he knew how to do, the only thing that always worked—he sacrificed himself for his human. He told his human that he was in love with him, and told him the things he needed to hear, and let himself be swallowed up by eternity. All for Dean. For Dean, who was still beautiful.

And this did save the world, but Dean wasn’t the same, really. He vowed to give himself a good life, try to move forward, but it really wasn’t going to happen was it? It was always going to end in his brother’s arms after a hunt. And he was okay with it. And when he got to Heaven, sitting beside his true father with a beer in hand, he heard Cas’s name and smiled. It had been ages since he smiled.

#spn #supernatural #castiel #dean winchester #destiel #dean x castiel #sorry I’m just like. it’s so good? I know the ending is blegh but like #the love story should be appreciated for what it is as well as what it could’ve been #so many writers know exactly what they created and I think we should appreciate it even if they weren’t allowed to write it more obviously

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charismat1c-megafauna · 8 months

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Crying screaming going insane over the fact that even if you THINK Hickey deserves the thirty lashes (or the twenty-three that he actually receives), it's still a difficult order to justify (even though Hickey was objectively in the wrong, although unfortunately it's not a massive leap in logic for your average white British sailor in the 1840s) because it's fundamentally part of Crozier's arc regarding alcoholism bringing out the worst in him. Sure, he comes to Silna's aid, but in the next episode, he wants to throw her out and abandon her, and even punishes his good friend for rightfully standing against him! It's a careless act of anger and cruelty that costs Blanky his leg, and ultimately his life (or at least, what might have remained had he not gotten gangrene). Ultimately, its the catalyst for Crozier's sobriety, his moment of "oh god I REALLY fucked up," and he's a better man for it, but it comes at the cost of his friend's life and Silna's safety.

Back to Hickey. I think we tend to let this moment slide because we know Hickey is a terrible person who does terrible things and we want to see him suffer, but Crozier continuing to up the ante as Hickey keeps talking is downright petty. The addition that Hickey be lashed as a boy is pretty needlessly cruel. And it leads to the moment where Hickey goes from a reactive nuiscance to an active threat. His homoerotic joker origin story. It's a moment where, like the Blanky situation, Crozier creates a future problem for himself.

It's a hard scene to watch (and the performances are incredible), and in that scene, it's kind of easy to see how mistrust of Crozier could breed in this environment. Flogging for an offense is terrible, but it's also expected. Hickey's flogging kind of pushes a lot of boundaries as to what is acceptable punishment or senseless cruelty, and we see different characters struggle with this. Crozier didn't just make an enemy of someone who previously wanted to be on his good side, he also created a martyr. It's just one of those things where nobody could have forseen the consequences down the road.

Don't get me wrong I absolutely love this scene and the way it furthers Crozier and Hickey's respective arcs and their dynamics with each other, but I think we can safely say Crozier acted from a place of malice, and it's just one of a few pretty fucked up things he's done, but we want to brush it off because Hickey is an acceptable target even though what happens to him is objectively pretty terrible.

I heard it said that flogging makes good men bad and bad men worse. There was no way Hickey was gonna come out of this normal, and in that instant, it's like fate was sealed. Crozier would never be able to be anything but a mortal enemy in Hickey's mind after that.

I love that this is a moment when Crozier crosses the line. I love that it seems to be more about taking out his feelings than serving a just punishment. I love the constant glances from Hickey and Fitzjames. And I love that this behavior escalates to Crozier going past the point of no return, leaving Blanky to the mercy of the elements and the Tuunbaq and abandoning Silna, and it's a huge moment of reckoning for him! He doubles back! He realizes he fucked up and he tries to change, and in some ways it's too late, but he still commits himself to changing for the better even if it kills him. Which. The DTs could have very easily killed him. It's just as much of a transformation for Crozier as the flogging was for Hickey.

It's so neat. These two men having these massive transformations involving deep personal suffering, and in Crozier's case, Hickey is a footnote, and in Hickey's case, Crozier is the cruel hand of God.

Or somwthing idk I'm like really sick and the nyquil hit.

Anyway I'm not going to bat for Hickey and saying he was right but I think we need to bear in mind that he's a sewer in the sense that he is the sum total of the society he came from and everything that was put into him- love and hate and betrayal and cruelty and everhrhjngi- and in the end, he is colonialism taken to its logical extreme. He's gonna fight God and then become God because he is Special (and Britain is going to conquer the passage and thus control the world because they have the power of God and anime- I mean uhhh they're doing it for queen and country so they are totally right and correct for trying to exploit a sea route for spice, right 🙄). Except he gets torn apart because nature doesn't give a shit.

Idk. Hickey gradually becomes warped into everything Wrong with the Franklin Expedition from the outset, and Crozier isn't a perfect saint who is right all the time and that's why I love this show. I'm gonna go to sleep now.

#terrorposting #amc the terror #the terror amc #cornelius hickey #francis crozier #somebody insert that iasip meme of charlie in front of the corkboard #i love hickey because he has limitless ambition but is also a huge dumbass and the fact that #his only redeeming quality is that hes in love with a guy who divorced him and he wants to be someones pet so bad #adam nagaitis i am cupping your face begging for your notes #the mans takes are chefs kiss and i like that hickey isnt senselessly evil from the outset hes just a scrapper who #got fucked over too many times and decided to make some bad decisions #and i love crozier because he is flawed!!! hes complicated and messy and hurtful and raw!!!#and his transformation is incredible!!! goddamn!!!

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saberamane · 1 month

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I would just like to share this lovely comment from someone on chapter 65 of 'We Were Born For This', it is just so great to see some just get it when you write something that isn't blatant or right in your face.

I've been binge reading this wonderful story over the past couple days, and when i got to this chapter i just had to comment. It feels almost like the culmination of... a lot of things desmond is overcoming, i don't quite know how to put it into words though i'll try (if it comes across awkwardly just keep in mind i absolutely adore this story with my whole heart, so it absolutely isn't intentional).

The way i'm thinking about it, is that we've been slowly watching desmond reclaim how to be a person, and this is one of the last Big Things that have been taken from him without any progress on overcoming it, so it feels like a big victory for desmond to find a way that feels 'safe' for him to explore this side of himself. While as an ace myself i'm fully aware sex isn't necessary for a fulfilling life, it is a completely different thing to have something forcibly stolen than it is to willingly give it up, so there's almost a feeling of pride in seeing desmond begin to grow past it. I also really liked the subtle dom/sub aspects you introduced, even if it was apparently an accident, because i've always felt like it was almost, natural, for things to go in that direction with characters like that. Let's see if i can put it into words, sorry if i ramble on too much...

Okay, so when you have that human weapon vibe from a character, it almost feels like having some sort of sub vibes (sexual or non-sexual) comes naturally, you know? Like, when someone has been built from birth to be nothing more than a weapon, with no wants or desires of their own, the idea of taking charge of themselves for no purpose other than to serve themselves would probably feel unnatural. Like, even when those characters heal and grow beyond just being nothing more than a weapon, that doesn't erase the past, doesn't change the fact that they feel more like they were /built/ than /born/, and that part of their being is always going to be there in the background. And it's its own kind of healing, to choose for yourself who you /want/ to guide and direct you, to willingly offer what was previously taken forcibly. To still be a weapon, but one wielded by gentle hands that you know would never hurt you, that doesn't even view you as the weapon you know yourself to be but instead considers you as the person with wants and needs you can only allow under their encouragement... still a weapon, but more than just a /thing/ to be used and thrown aside... the inherent eroticism of the weapon/wielder dynamic, is what i'm saying. I like my smut with a side of psychoanalysis, lol.

It was wonderfully executed as well, i must say. The smut was written in a wonderfully visceral way, and you could just feel desmond giving himself over so beautifully. Being a good soft dom apparently comes naturally to ezio, with his easy confidence and understanding of what desmond wants and needs, and sheer delight at providing it. Desmond being able to completely relax into it thanks to the mix of the pleasure (unfamiliar and taboo) with the feeling of being commanded (easy and safe). The shame and fear being countered by the comfort of a person he loves and wholly trusted being the one to guide him through it, turning it from something he's doing wrong and must be punished for, to something he's unquestionably doing right as ezio tells him how good he is for it, all while being considerate to hold himself back and not push desmond too far for his own wants and desires.

Basically, thank you very much for such a wonderful story, i am very happy to read this :)

#personal #assassin's creed #assassins creed #ao3 #ao3 fanfic #fanfiction #we were born for this fanfic #desmond miles #ezio auditore

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medievildead · 1 year

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Freyr's story in God of War hurts me. Like immensely. The Lost Pages of Norse Myth (2018) as well as the retelling by Mimir and Freya just reveal the most upsetting story I've heard about him.

I'll never be over the Aesir trying to burn him alive, just for seeking to aide them in achieving a bountiful harvest. Freyr's burn scars are still so visible on his fucking arms bro. Which means he was still sporting those when he attended Freyas wedding into the very family that tried to kill him.

Freyr was a GUEST in Asgard. He, out KINDNESS, attempted to show them the Vanir magic of the Harvest, to help their crops flourish. No record of him even wanting shit in return. He was just being the naturally kind serenity god that he is.

And then, because the Aesir couldn't get the hang of it, and, being who they are, accused Freyr of bad witchcraft, and claimed he was tricking them.

So what do they do to punish him for and assumed attempt at fooling them? They ripped up out of the ground all the crops Freyr had just generously enchanted, threw them down as kindle and lit them, and Freyr, ablaze. They left him in the flames of his own gifts. Fully intending for him to burn alive and die.

Like of fucking course he didnt want Freya to marry Odin. Of fucking course he thought Freya was dead. He knows what the Aesir are capable of. His permanently marked skin is a grim reminder.

Its just. Freyr is so fucking kind. And sweet and silly and generous. There isn't any story in GoW canon (Or even really in myth) of him being horrible. He's genuinley the serenity god for a reason. He is such a sweetheart.

And the Aesir tried to burn him alive.

I understand Freya's perspective though. What she tried to do was noble and- to be fair, she had to be convinced into that choice my Mimir. She wanted to keep Vanaheim safe, and if Marriage to Odin was the only choice she had, I was stuck in position I'd be going with the easy way out too.

But Freyr of all people would fully believe that the Aesir, under Odin's rule, have no understanding of peace. The man is the patron of that stuff. United the elves for fucks sake. He tried to teach the Aesir something to help their realm flourish and they spit on him when they can't understand it, because they can't comprehend being unable to do something So Simple that a Vanir Could Do It so Clearly He Must Be Tricking Us. Then they proceed to burn him alive. If I were Freyr, I'd certainly believe whatever promises made by the Aesir were complete bullshit.

We never get told the words Freyr said to Freya at her wedding, but.. it probably had a lot to do with the fact Freyr couldn't stand to see Freya make such a choice. Like, "Freya I love you. But I can't in sound mind be part of this union no matter what. Look at me. LOOK AT ME. What they've done to me, to us, to our people. Is this truly what you want? For us? For Vanaheim? Is this the legacy you want to be remembered for?? I won't- I CAN'T stop you from making your own choice. But I'll warn you now that that choice decides wether or not you see me again"

And she made her choice. And he kept his word. And sure enough, as he likely predicted, the peace was not kept, and he assumed his sister was lost forever, thinking that the last words he had ever said to his beloved sister were basically "I never want to see you again".

This. Fucking. Guy... ):

#god of war #freyr #freyr gow #gow #god of war ragnarok #gowr #AND AFTER EVERYTHING HE FORGIVES HER HE LOVES HER AND HE DIES FOR HER AND EVERYONE #LITERALLY A TRUE GOD OF PEACE #FREYR I MISS YOU #freya #freya gow #vanir twins

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not-so-allegiant-general · 6 months

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The woods @huxloween

It has been long time since Hux was planetside. He actually could remember only one time when he was in any woods. And sleeping under the sky? Well never. Not like that. On the ground. Close to fire. With his coat as a cover. His people took the watch and the rest of them was sleeping already, a few meters further to give their commanding officer deserved space.

But Hux couldn't sleep. Every sound made him shiver. His paranoia was awake and ready to take everything around as a possible threat. Darkness was not helpful. He sighed rubbing his face and almost jumped at his feet when Ren stood next to him.

"Kriffing hell. What do you think you are doing." He hissed with knife in his hand.

"Easy." Kylo sat down slowly. "You are projecting, general. Tomorrow we will have tiring day. You should rest."

"I was resting until… "

"No you weren't. You were panicking."

"I was not."

"I can help. It's fine. I felt like that when i was first time on a Star Destroyer. Everything was… Well it was hard. I suppose this can be overwhelming for someone raised on star ships."

"I…" Hux was speechless" don't need your pity." Kylo roller his eyes.

"Just… Let me help."

"No. No force tricks near my head Ren."

"As you wish. But i can help in different way. I don't really need so much sleep i will meditate here."

"You… You want to watch me sleeping?" Kylo nodded.

"If this will help you calm down. Would you want me to? Stay here?"

Hux looked around and into the darkness of the woods and nodded slowly.

"It is… Overwhelming" he said quietly closing his eyes.

"You are safe, General. No need to be scared." Hux glanced at him furiously. "You are projecting, Hux. It's keeping me up. And it's disturbing. Sleep."

Hux tried. He actually fell asleep but after few minutes woke up looking for his knife. He glanced at Ren. Knight was sitting facing away from him. Hux rolled over and pressed his forehead to his back. Kylo sighed.

"Hux…"

"Lay down next to me" he said. Ren looked at him in surprise but obeyed. He laid down and touched Hux's back when general rolled over again.

"C'mon… Come here Hux. You are projecting."

"Kriff off." Kylo smiled petting his back and feeling like Hux is slowly breaking. After few minutes he was laying snuggled up to Kylo nuzzling his neck. "You insolent child."

Kylo laughed.

"Really. I don't know why Supreme Leader sent you here with us. I could… "

"You don't? "Hux snorted "isn't it obvious.? " he sighed looking at confusion in Kylo's eyes "it's a punishment"

"For what?"

"For fucking you apparently."

"Oh." He cleared his throat"well it's not very wise then to send us both in the same place isn't it?"

"Use your brain just for few seconds please Ren"

"Its a test."

"It is. And i am not loosing my live or even worse my rank because you couldn't restrain yourself."

"You are the one clinging to me, Hux."

"Shut up." He sighed and closed his eyes.

"I won't let him kill you Hux."

"You won't let him" he mocked" you don't have any chance against him"

"You underestimate me."

"You didn't give me any prove that you are capable of defeating him Ren. I only saw how he tossed you from wall to wall."

"He is my Master, I obey."

"You obey because he has power. It's not a matter of respect. Obedience is an effect of fear."

"It's not" Hux snorted at that and Kylo fell silent and soon he was laying awake and listening to Hux's steady breath. He swore that night to himself that he will kill Snoke and place his head before Hux. And he did. A year later he was kneeling before Hux with Sonke's head next to him.

"Your orders, General?" He asked softly. Because obedience is a choice. And he chose to obey.

#kylux #armitage hux #kylo ren #huxloween

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nocturneblight · 16 days

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His eyes widened, “Jenecis you can’t be saying…”

Jenecis snapped her fingers, A transparent hole appeared, it’s light hue of colors danced around her hand as she lunged it deeply into its compartment, with a pull, juices sputtered out as her hand came out with a interestingly designed dagger, she held it out to him with her one hand.

He gasped upon seeing both the magic apparatus and the dagger, Both were almost incomprehensible to him, it felt so unnatural compared to all the years he lived in his life.

Jenecis looked at him a stern stare “yes Edward, I need you to kill someone for me”

His nerves picked up again “Jenecis… I…” he mumbled, unsure of how to feel about this request.

Jenecis motioned for him to open his hands, he did and she gently placed the dagger onto his palms.

“Recall that hero we spoke of earlier? She’s the target” said jenecis, with little emotion.

He clutched the dagger in his hands, getting a feel to its grooves and design, it was sharp, the body was toothed with barbs, it looked perfect for digging into someone’s flesh and gliding across to grind away meat, a torture-like design.

His mind raced, Killing someone? He’d never killed someone before, he never wanted too, He heard of so many people dying before and it always upset him, death was the ultimate punishment, while he did have faith that there was an afterlife and meaning behind existence, seeing someone stop moving for good was a horrific thing, he had never dreamed of taking anyone’s life away.

He looked back up from the dagger and at jenecis, Her face was stern but with some worrisome look on it, like she was awaiting a response out of him.

She walked up to him, softly grabbing his hands and helping him get a feel for the dagger, she made sure to come off politely, he was in dire need of mental support in this moment.

After helping him clutch the dagger a bit, she looked at him again, this time with a more comforting, Easy-going approach. Her hands went around his shoulders again, her eyes looked into his, her pupils expanded as she relaxed her self to ease his fears.

He held the dagger down, making sure to keep it pointed away from both of them safely as she was so closely against him.

“S-so, you want me to kill them with this?” He said, looking into her purple eyes with worry.

Jenecis nodded, “Yes, I have something else to give you, it’ll make sure she passes when the deed is done.”

Jenecis reached in the magic apparatus again,

*SPLURT*

She pulled her hand out of it, holding a small vial of liquid with a corkscrew cap on it.

She held it up between her pointer finger and her thumb, showing him the entire bottle.

“This is a potent chemical bane, some of this coated onto the tip of that dagger and any it enters will be quickly put to rest” she remarked, assuring its effects.

She handed it to him, trusting him to hold it.

He tucked the dagger away in the ragged pocket of his dirty clothes, accepting the hazardous vial into his hands as she lowered it down, He held it up to his face, gazing in at the liquid with his eye and seeing the wretched color of greenish-black that was the contents inside it, it looked like pure evil, he could only wonder if the smell was going to be just as bad.

“So, just dip the tip into this and the job will be done?” He asked, still stressed over the deal.

Jenecis nodded, pointing towards his other pocket, insisting he take care to place it in safely, Without hesitation, he nodded and placed it in.

“I want you to know this is no different than killing an animal, recall the rodents and beast that roam the streets? I’m sure you’ve had to make do with them as your meal, this is like that, except the rat is a lot bigger than your foot.” She said, trying to rationalize with him.

He gritted his teeth gently, “But jenecis, she’s a living being, just like us, Someone who has lived around other people, who shares memories and feelings with others”

He didn’t stop, leaving no opening for her to speak.

“That hero we speak about killing has had years of life lived and more to live as of this moment, more relations to form, more purpose to be had, If we shut her out now with this…”

He lifted the dagger from his pocket, looking at its deep edges, he could see his own reflection within its steely sheen.

Jenecis nodded, her eyes lowered a bit, she knew he was leaning towards not doing the act.

“Edward, you have a life to live as well, I think you deserve better than what you’ve been given.” She said, Lowering her hands from his shoulders onto his forearms.

He looked back at her, still worried but with some intrigue at what she just said.

“I deserve more?” He said, his eyebrow cocking upwards a little.

She looked at him with an affirmative gaze, “absolutely, Think on this, will you?”

She stepped back, using her hands while she began to talk to portray more emotion.

“So this hero is living their best life, right? She’s talk of the town, she makes decent income, not a care in the world except for what the town speaks of her.”

She paused, pointing towards him, “Do you think she, once in her entire life as a traveler, Has thought about people like us? The ones who have to scrape by to live?”

His eyes widened, understanding that tinge of hatred she held for another living grander without care.

Jenecis placed her hand on her chest, “I’m just like you, I had to work my way up the chain of hardship to get where I am today, No one held my hand as I struggled, No one came for me when I prayed for it, I suffered to get here and make my way through life”

She paused again, taking a deep sigh, “I trust you understand my reasoning, I wouldn’t ask such a heinous thing normally but this person, you have to understand, Would never even give you the light of day if they were presented with the same task. they would murder you before you knew it and walk away without a thought for you, It’s like breathing to them. You and me are just another ant to crush under they’re heels, it’s disgusting”

He understood everything she spoke of, if this person really was a hero then why wasn’t he saved from his poverty? Such a person only cared for those who worshipped them without second thought, they were a selfish being, one who didn’t care for anything other than her pride and glory.

Jenecis continued, “WE deserve better, I wanted equality in this town but with selfish People like them… we will continue to be treated like trash, used to support they’re upbringing, that’s why I ask of you to carry this out Edward, I cannot kill them myself, even if I tried, somehow, one way or another, evidence would get lead back to me.”

Edward questioned this plan, “Well, I do understand what you speak of but, How will we clean up our trails when doing this? It seems like it’ll be a bit hard with them being the town talk and all.”

Jenecis shook her head, “I’ve already got a plan, I’ve thought on this for a while, allow me to help you visualize our most successful options”

She grabbed the magical apparatus by its side, yanking it in front of herself and pulling it by its left and right corners.

The strange magic bended around, tautly expanding to look like a long ethereal piece of paper.

Jenecis conjured a pen-like stick into her fingers, wrapping her fingers around the shape, she began jotting down a scene for him to see.

“We start like this, First, we must wait for about three days, the reason why? I still got work to do, once I clean up the last days of my patrol, I’ll strike up a vacation from this town, allowing myself about two weeks of break.”

“That’s a lot of time jenecis, What’ll I do during this though?” He asked, unsure of her goal in this.

Jenecis nodded and writ down more sketches on her mirage of a tablet.

“Okay, so, For the next following days I’ll allow you to rest and eat in my house, I don’t want you going ANYWHERE else other than my house and the yard, This is so no one will see you and attempt to mark you up for being a suspect.”

She splotched another scene down, “After that time is up, I’ll come back and announce my leave, I’ll book it out of town on my horse and spend two weeks at another city, I’ve already logged a nice looking one from my patrols, the day I leave I want you to ready up for the putting down of that mercenary.”

“Like, the same day you leave?” He asked.

“Right! Except, i need you to enter at night, I’ll leave during the day and then I want you to kill her at nightfall, you can easily access her house that way with little effort, most of the guards will either be drunk or passed out by then so it shouldn’t be hard.”

“Uhm, about that, I don’t think I’ve ever seen this hero around here before, let alone her home either.” He said, not sure of directions.

Jenecis understood his words, She snuffed her ethereal tablet away and motioned for him to follow her.

“Leave the cell, Already? But-“

She pointed up at the cell window that was open, It was already the morning.

“It’s morning!?” He shockingly stated.

“Yeah, it seems we’ve talked for hours on end, come, you’ve served your time and we still have plans to discuss, I trust your going to follow up on these, now that we’re so far into this talk. Yeah?”

He looked back at her, he still was unsure about killing but she was right, he already spent all this time talking about this plot and denying her now after learning this information could end badly.

“Of course, let’s move” he replied.

Jenecis smiled, “That’s what I’m talking about, let’s go”

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doctorcorby · 29 days

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In Justice We Trust (72401 words) by thesavagesabretooth

catch up here

With Simon Blackquill and Athena Cykes assigned as their psychologists, the Phantom and Fulbright must grapple with their identity, their deeds, their future, and their love for the twisted samurai whom they betrayed.

All the while, Edgeworth and Wright find their relationship tested as they walk the narrow path between pursuing real justice, and the dark age of the law.

December 24th, 8:00 pm

14 hours of travel time, and jet lag, and a day that was swiftly moving toward its 24th hour of wakefulness clouded Simon's mind and made the whole proceedings feel like some kind of waking dream.

He was glad that Athena was going to stay the night– he couldn't bear to have been in the room alone with Halblicht– with Bobby. Not now. Not with all of the confused things going through his mind. He was deeply torn, part of him wanting to embrace and accept the return of the man he'd spent his year with– the other part now even more deeply wounded and skeptical that things could ever be alright again.

Just because Bobby was real– in some strange and twisted way, as a part of the Phantom's mind– didn't mean that Simon had it in him to forgive him. Did it?

He took deep breaths, in and out, trying both to calm himself and to focus on what was important as he listened to Athena get into the weeds with Halblicht.

Athena was looking bad, despite her ever present smile. The dark circles under her eyes spoke to her exhaustion as she tapped away at the screen.

“I’d like to loop back to your…training, if that’s okay.”

Bobby ran his fingers through his hair, and nodded. "I'm not surprised. I'll try to help Robert answer where I can."

“Thanks Bobby. I know it can’t be easy…unpacking trauma never is…you saw how messy it was for me during the trial, yeah? I understand.” She was quiet for a moment before she snapped out enough to ask her first question. “He wasn’t given a name, and in court he spoke about how he’d ‘discarded’ his identity…that he was an abyss. I want you to elaborate on that…”

"Left them behind," Bobby murmured, rubbing his arm thoughtfully. "He said that he left them behind. It wasn't really something he had a choice in, whether he wants me to tell you that or not. He's not even sure if he ever had an identity to begin with."

“The people who ran the organization…correct me if I’m wrong, but…given they didn’t give him a name it’s safe to assume they were trying to tell him since as long as he could remember that he didn’t have a personality? Emotions…any of that?”

"Yes," Bobby nodded, twisting his hands in his lap. "They punished him for expressing any kind of emotion aside from blind obedience. They… miss Athena… they beat those children for giving one another nicknames."

Athena’s mouth drew a hard line, and Simon could see a flicker of something behind her tired eyes.

Maybe it was rage. Or maybe he was projecting his own feelings on her. The idea that anyone could be so monstrous made him sick.

“I see,” she said softly, “they did the same for any other attempt at individuality, however minor?”

"Yes, ma'm," he nodded again, his hands tight together. It was clear he was having trouble speaking about it, even with 'Bobby' as whatever buffer he existed for. "No possessions. No voluntary alterations of appearance. No expressing preferences, even for simple things. Food, or clothes. The punishments were… severe."

Athena’s fingers tightened on the sheets, palpable only by the way they shifted against his leg as she drew more of them into her palm.

“Horrible,” she said a moment later. “absolutely sickening…ritual abuse to turn children into tools of war and espionage. By…stamping down individuality, they wanted to create someone who could become anyone, c-correct?”

Simon watched with disgust and curiosity as Halblicht's posture changed and his expression smoothed. He looked off into the middle distance. "That was the goal. To create weapons, and tools. That's what we were told. That we were not people, we were tools. 'You're no one'."

“You’re no one.” Athena echoed hollowly as her fist closed tight around the handful of sheets. “Do you remember anything before them? Before they tried…tried to turn you into a tool?”

"I do not," he said, impassively, shaking his head. "The earliest memory I can recall is being in the back of a truck with several other children, and then marched into a building through a concrete hallway."

"How old?" Simon asked, eyes narrowing on him. It was evil. It was impossibly evil. No wonder it resulted in creating evil… Treating children like they were tools as if they were nothing more than a robot who could hold a gun.

Robert shook his head again. "I have no idea how to judge that. We were small. Maybe four? Maybe six? I suppose I could have been as old as eight at that point."

Athena made an involuntary noise…horror, a quiet intake of breath before she managed to ask another question.

“It’s no wonder. It’s no wonder you called yourself the abyss. Taking children and beating the very identity out of them, in the formative years of your lives.They saw you as nothing but a tool, something to point and shoot, or sent to retrieve. It’s no wonder you felt you were no one.”

Her breath hissed audibly between her teeth “put through so much, so young, by the real evil. True, genuine evil.”

Robert shrugged. "People do whatever they think will facilitate their goals. Evil or good are abstract. These people wanted weapons, so they created them. Children were only the raw materials. Some children are raised to be people. I was raised to be a tool, that's all."

Athena’s eyes flicked down to the screen.

“Do you really believe that, Robert?” she asked in an even tone, “or is that what they told you?” WIth a soft sigh, she continued “I’ll dispense with good or evil. I’ll say what I really mean. These people are cruel. The psychological damage they inflict by their actions is immense.”

"It's only damage if you're trying to create a person, isn't it?" he murmured. "If it's a weapon you're trying to create, it's structure. It's like saying you damaged a stone by chipping it to make a statue."

Simon felt himself bristle. and he moved involuntarily forward on the bed, closer toward Halbricht.

"That's rubbish! Complete rot! A child isn't a stone to be shaped as seen fit!"

Halblicht winced, and looked up with a watery, apologetic expression. "I think it's how he copes with what happened… by telling himself that it doesn't matter. That he doesn't matter. I think it's easy since it's always what he's been told…"

“It’s a coping mechanism,” Athena suddenly said. Despite the watery look in her eyes, her outward expression was soft and quiet as her voice “but it’s not a good one. Not in the long term. It’ll only reinforce what they’ve done to him.”

She raised her hand to her chest.

“Robert…we all come into this world as people. Some of us are stranger than others, some of us are ‘chipped’ or molded by others or circumstance…or in the case of your handlers…abject cruelty. But they cannot turn a person into a tool, not completely.”

Slowly she reached her hand through the screen, disrupting the mood matrix as she gestured towards him. “There’s always going to be something lingering, trying to break back through. Think logically…don’t respond with their words…have you felt something like that since you’ve gained a little autonomy from them and theirs? Anything? Emotions, desires, tastes…anything?”

Halblicht's face returned to the impassive, distant expression. But Simon watched him put his fingers gently on the buttons of his shirt and toy with them.

"Four nights ago you exposed my fear for everyone to see, Ms. Cykes. Why do you think someone like me would even be afraid to die?"

Simon felt like he had been stabbed in the chest by the sheer weight of hearing the Phantom's admission.

Was this why he held on so hard to being Bobby Fulbright? Because he'd actually been able to enjoy himself?

“Because you have,” Athena’s hand lowered to her knee. “The only reason to fear death is when you have something to hold on to…and it’s clear you’re more than what they created. People aren’t tools, no matter how hard they try to make it so.”

Her brow furrowed as she continued. “You’ll need to face that if you want to heal. You can’t heal from damage you pretend isn’t there. You matter. You’re a person, with feelings that we could register even during the trial, feelings that make you fear death and lead you to your own choices no matter how much they tried to stop you.”

Simon couldn't breathe. Suddenly the murder of Metis Cykes was no longer the deliberate and wicked choice of an evil man. At least– not the one sitting in front of him. Suddenly it was the action of a man who had no choice at all. Who had never had a choice.

If someone had used Ponco to commit a murder– would that murder be Ponco's fault? Where does blame lie when you've raised a child as an obedient killer?

Had this man truly never experienced a moment of affection in his life before– before Simon himself? Was it not, as he'd believed when they started their relationship, one love-starved prisoner seeking out someone he could touch, but two prisoners instead?

If it was a lie, it was a good one. It was the only one that could possibly have tugged at Simon's heart.

Then Phantom was hanging his head down, staring at the floor.

"I don't understand, Ms. Cykes. Why would you want to help me? Why would you want me to be a person?"

The mood matrix flickered off before her with a wave of her hand, removing the obscuring wall of holographic imagery and leaving just Athena Cykes and himself sitting there on the bed opposite ‘the Phantom’.

“Robert.” Her voice rose above its soft spoken tone to emphasize the name…pointedly. Simon saw her hands shaking. “Why wouldn’t I want you to be a person? Nobody deserves to be a tool. I don’t want that…my mother wouldn’t have wanted it either. I know what it’s like to feel like you’re not a person…to think of yourself as a machine. Maybe it’s that. Maybe I want to prove your creators wrong. Or maybe it’s just…the kind thing to do for someone starved for kindness…no matter what they’ve done to me personally. I don’t know, exactly…but I know I’ll keep helping.”

Athena's words hung in the air in silence for a moment.

"You'll help me," he said again, incredulously. His chest spasmed in what might have been a silent laugh, or a shudder of disbelief. "I killed your mother, and you want to help me. That's insane. And I guess Bobby's right– I guess I'm insane too. Because I actually believe you."

Insane. The phantom was right. It was completely insane that either one of them could move past the evil he had done them– the life he had so carelessly snuffed out and thrown their lives into chao– it was unthinkable that they could want to help him.

So damn it, why did Simon want to help him, too? Why did he want to pull the man who had ended Metis Cykes life– who had snuffed out another young life less than a week ago– into a hug and never let him go?

Simon started to laugh too, and he slapped the bed unable to catch his breath. "What a joke on all of us. What a wretched jest we're party to. You'd better understand this, Half Bright— Athena isn't the only one who wants to help you. Justitia help me."

Maybe it was infectious, because Athena’s shoulder shook in a quiet and desperate laugh of her own.

“A joke…maybe.” She pressed her hand to her face, before she pushed her hair away and smiled in Simon’s direction. He could see there was pride there, and some kind of hope in her expression.

The phantom's shoulders shook, his hand still clutching the buttons of his shirt like he was clutching at his heart. Was he laughing, or crying? Simon heard nothing but a wheezing breath from him, and he saw no tears. But it could have been either, or both.

Halblicht steadied after a moment too, and looked up at Simon. "You really want to help me as well, Simon?"

"So it would seem. No one is more surprised than me." Simon caught his own breath, and he smiled helplessly over at Athena. "I guess we had that breakthrough that I called you in for, Ms. Cykes."

Athena seemed to sigh with relief, before wiping at her eyes with a laugh. “All the best breakthroughs happen when everyone’s overly exhausted, Simon. That’s just a fact.”

It was also, probably, a lie.

"Oh yes, that's just obvious," Simon nodded along, sarcastically. "Insanity and nonsense suddenly make the most sense when you're completely wiped out."

Now Simon heard the familiar sound of the absurd sniffling that always came before Bobby started to sob. Halblicht pushed up his glasses, and tears ran down his face.

"Ms. Cykes, Prosecutor Blackquill– I– I don't know what to say," Bobby– it was obviously Bobby again now– whimpered. "We don't deserve such overwhelming kindness from you. It would be justice just to throw us away but… but thank you so much just for listening."

Athena turned her attention back to him with a little sniff. “C-come on. I’ll start crying too!” She sniffed again “thank you both for being open with us…for being willing to accept help, y-yeah?”

Bobby nodded, still crying against his arm.

"S-sorry! I don't want to make you cry but… but it's just so much. I-I can hardly believe it, you know? And y-you even made Robert believe it too, and he doesn't t-trust anybody…"

"I can't imagine why he wouldn't," Simon drawled, blinking back his own tears. "but you'd both better believe it. Mad as it is, this is apparently the reality that we have to deal with."

He stood up suddenly, and marched over to the desk where he grabbed the box of tissues. He pulled several out of the box, and handed them to Athena, then he shoved the whole box in Halblicht's face.

"Here, Half Bright. Clean yourself up. You're a mess."

Bobby looked up at him with big, wet eyes, and it was all that Simon could do to stop himself from pulling the man into a hug.

He'd killed Metis Cykes. But now it wasn't some cold, emotionless killer who'd held the knife. It was poor, stupid Bobby Fulbright, waiting somewhere to be woken up from the nightmare he'd been born into.

Who would hurt a child like that? Who could turn someone who had a man like this in his heart into a killer? Simon found himself shaking with rage.

Athena wiped her eyes beside them, hiccuping softly as she attended to the spilling tears. He didn’t need her hearing to hear the sorrow in her voice.

“The world can be mad, you know? Cruel, too. But…but. It doesn’t have to be. I want you both to believe that we’re going to help Mr. Edgeworth put a stop to this too. I’ll defend whoever I gotta defend to make sure the truth…that justice is reached.”

"Indeed," Simon said firmly. "If you have been used as a weapon, then justice will be only be done when we apprehend the monster who dared to use you in such a way."

Bobby sniffled and pulled handfuls of tissues out of the box, wiping at his teary eyes.

"Thank you… thank you both. I'm glad… I'm glad to have your help. I've been saying this whole time to Robert that it wasn't fair what they did to him… that it wasn't just…it's awful to see what happened. I want to bring those people to justice with you. We want to."

Athena reached out a hand towards them, her smile tentative and kind. “And we will. You will. That’s a promise, alright?”

"Thank you…" He wiped his eyes with one arm, and shaking, reached out and put his hand on hers. "It's a promise."

"A promise." Simon put his hand on top of both of theirs, and squeezed. "Some sort of dark pact, even."

He huffed a laugh, but, mad as it was, it seemed like some kind of new beginning. Of what, he didn't know.

December 24th, 9:40 pm

They talked for a while longer, in murmured, exhausted voices, going over the things they'd already said, without breaking much new ground. Robert was quiet, while Bobby continually thanked them, and apologized. Simon's emotions were so omnipresent and confused that Athena could barely hear herself think.

Finally, Simon had insisted that they had to at least try to get some sleep for the investigation in the morning, and that had caused another discussion. Not quite an argument. Each of them volunteered to sleep on the floor. And none of them would allow the others to do so.

Finally, exhausted and clearly manic, Simon had laughed, and suggested they just all sleep on the bed in their clothes 'like an anime convention.' He had promised to get Bobby an iron for his 'poor, wrinkled shirt' in the morning.

Which was exactly how Athena found herself laying there on the right side of Simon Blackquill, staring at the darkened ceiling with her thoughts ticking away like the seconds and the sound of the two men’s breathing played at the edge of her hearing as all else tuned out.

Thoughts of the therapy session played in her mind…the stories of the facility he grew up in, the other children…the deliberate suppression of individualization and emotion. A person they tried to turn into a machine. The very thought made her sick, the horror twisting inside her before spilling into the darkness of her internal matrix.

She remembered the little conversation outside the restaurant after dinner. The moment they met eyes and he whispered understanding to her. What was it like for him? What did it say about her that he could recognize her like that.

Their circumstances were so different…he was forged, raised by that horrible and abusive ‘organization’. Trained to suppress emotion until he became the man who killed her mother over a rock…the man who felt, but knew he wasn’t allowed to so he forced them down as his handlers demanded…to the point where he had no idea how to process them.

If not for Bobby Fulbright. The smiling, emotional, kind hearted goofball who’d endeared himself to everyone around him. A man who was still, somehow, around despite everything. A part of Robert through psychology or fate, she supposed.

But it wasn’t Bobby who recognized something behind her eyes…it was Robert, the phantom. He was the one who quietly understood her in the cold street outside the restaurant, who shared that moment of comforting silence despite the din of words.

Where he was created by cruel and horrible hands, she was born…different. Her emotions had always felt hard to reach, quiet and subtle to the point of becoming drowned out by any outside stimulus. Her miraculous hearing backfired into a curse, distancing her from the ability to feel her own emotions while othering herself from anyone outside Cosmos save for Junie.

At times, she’d thought of herself as another robot like her ‘brother and sister’ Ponco and Clonco…at times she wondered if any of her feelings were real at all.

Maybe that’s what Robert had recognized in her. The use of masks, and the use of exaggeration to show the world the same quiet, muted pulse in your own heart in a way that they could understand. Even if it wore you down. Even if it sometimes felt like too much, at least they’d understand.

Maybe she did relate to her mother’s killer…and maybe that’s why Aura had hated her for so long.

As she shifted to look over at the two men while they slept, she smiled faintly in the dark. Maybe that was why she wanted to help him so badly…outside the sympathy and the fury at those who’d made him and who’d truly taken her mother’s life. Maybe he was a kindred spirit.

December 24, 9:40 pm

Simon lay awake, still and quiet with his eyes closed, pretending to be asleep. He felt the warmth radiating from each of the bodies beside him– the lithe form of Athena on his one side, and the solidly built body belonging to Bobby Fulbright– and whoever else– on his other. He lay stiffly, unable to fully avoid touching the other man, but unwilling to give in to his impulse to wrap his arms around him from behind.

So, Simon had never known the real man Bobby Fulbright. He had thought, when that revelation came to light, that it meant that everything he had known for a year had been an elaborate lie, a falsehood, an act and a put-on without any true feeling or meaning behind it. Simply a manipulation of his own feelings.

But now it seemed that wasn't exactly the case. He had no reason to doubt Athena's skill and her judgment. If she believed what they were hearing from Halblicht, then it must be true.

The man he had known as 'Bobby Fulbright' existed– as a mental construct separated from the broken mind of a tormented victim of horrific abuse. The same victim of horrific abuse who had killed his mentor. Who had murdered Athena's mother Metis in the coldest of blood.

So where did that leave Simon? What did that mean for him? If there was even a part of this man who had felt something for him, who had held him in the darkness when Simon was at his lowest point, how could he reject that? He kept imagining Bobby as a child, huddled and afraid in a cement room, beaten and starved for daring to show a smile out of turn.

Treatment like that would break the spirit– destroy the very soul– of a grown and strong man. What would it do to a small child?

Turn them into something like the Phantom, who could barely register an emotion. Who could only safely show emotion by projecting it on someone else, on 'Bobby'.

Even if it wasn't exactly Bobby huddled in that horrible room, suffering that terrible torment as a child– even if Bobby was new, and the one who had suffered was 'Robert', was the Phantom, was Metis Cykes killer– the rage and pity and compassion for that child that stirred in his heart was the same.

If that experience was true– and Athena believed it, which meant Simon believed it– how could he carry on the hate in his heart for Metis' killer? How could it be anything more than a tragic and disgusting accident perpetrated by a man who had no choice? Could Simon actually move past the fact that this man had killed Metis, had traumatized Athena and forced her to grow up an orphan, had sent Simon himself to death row for so many long years, had driven his sister to the brink?

Could he forgive him?

Would Metis want him to forgive him?

If Ponco had killed her, would Metis want Ponco held responsible? Would Simon have hated the robot just doing what it was told?

The conflict roiled and rolled in Simon's heart. His fury and disgust raged within him, but rather than being pointed at the Phantom, now they were aimed squarely at the ones who had done such a thing to a child. Had stripped him bare and broken him of his humanity. It made Simon want to cry. It made him want to pull Bobby into his arms and hold him– hold him until maybe even Robert– the man who had killed Metis Cykes and felt nothing– could cry. If such a thing were even possible.

If Bobby cared about him, it must mean that somewhere at his core Robert– the Phantom– cared too didn't he? Or were they completely separate? Had Robert watched passionlessly as Simon and Bobby had spent time together?

Simon wondered. Simon wondered about it all, as he lay in the dark, and he started to tug at the frayed edges of what might be clues, or what might be shadows.

Bobby Fulbright had been the one who presented the lighter as evidence. The lighter that– while it implicated Athena– would have freed Simon. Would have saved him from death row. And it put the Phantom himself in danger.

Bobby had kept promising to reform Simon. To rehabilitate him and return him to society. To save him. Had the implication of Athena, twisted and vile as it had been, been to that end? Had the Phantom decided that Simon's life was worth the risk?

Had something in Simon awakened the feelings of a man deadened inside by years of torment? Had he awakened some true feelings of care from the very man who had ripped his life to pieces?

The idea was as sickening as it was romantic.

Halblicht's chest rose and fell in the dark, and he heard him make a noise that might have been a murmur.

Simon broke, and he put his arm around him.

His thoughts chased each other like dogs through the street for a long time after, before he finally fell asleep.

#simon blackquill #bobby fulbright #athena cykes #blackbright #phantomquill #ace attorney #fanfiction #fanfic #fan fiction #archive of our own #ao3 #darkfic #dark fic #dead dove

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mh073099 · 2 months

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"I'll Find you" Part 4

This is a fluffly piece, no trigger warnings on this one. Just be aware that there have been and will be in the future. I just wanted something light to break things up.

Madrid, Spain 04/13/2068 08:41

The sunlight littered in through white curtains softly blowing in the wind. The tall windows were open, letting the sounds of the market below in to fill the silence of the morning. I lay in my soft bed thinking of the past year, and how the hell it was I got here.

Over the last year I had been making moves for the separatist organizations and feeding information to Rex. I still am confused about him, about how I feel I can trust him when I know deep in my bones that trust doesn’t exist. It’s been beaten out of me. Which conflicts me on turning on them in the first place. However, I remember my home before all this started. Sure, the extracurricular activities my mom introduced me to at that time were weird and totally in preparation for this lifestyle. But I remember the Christmas and the Halloweens. Family dinners and target shopping trips. Camping and School. What normal felt like. I just want that again.

Talking with Rex was surprisingly easy, knowing how to get information out when I am so close to everything. I know where people aren’t looking. His letters to me are love letters. Words telling me how strong I am, How when this is all over he will take me away from this world, and things will be safe a quiet. I want to believe him. My letters are plans, tips, straight to business with no name. He never talks about work in his letters though. I have grown fond of him.

It had been surprisingly easy to gain the trust and favor of the Count and My mother. I was confused at the time, but that horrible late May night meant I was one of them now. Because I didn’t break.

Then I realized that we are far less organized than I was trained to believe. Sloppy. Hiding in plain sight. So obvious that it’s hidden from the naked eye. The corruption that has slowly weaved its way into the world is so visible, if only one knew where to look.

And because I had proven myself, and making sure everything I had been doing was never a failure while sabotaging Maul and Dooku secretly, no suspicion was on me.

I’d plant incriminating evidence against a low life senator, Mauls murder plans for a General in the Jedi Special Forces of the GRA were spoiled by tip offs. It goes back and forth.

Sidious has been on a hunt for a mole and punishing Maul for his inability to get the job done. I wish I could say I was sorry for him. However, Maul has been a whole new problem in my life. He haunts my steps. Grabby in dark corners. I know he wants me. While I know I could use that to my advantage the thought itself disgusts me.

And with all this going on, these have started to settle. I am gearing up for the job Sidious has given me, meaning I am to begin a new life. Long term.

I am to be a translator for a senator from the far south, removed from most civilization and that is part of our cause. He is now starting negotiations with the Republic to join their cause, or so they think. It’s an in the senator is giving us.

Life gets boring these days. I love it. I wake up, make myself tea and take ace on a walk. Then the ever-loyal dog and I make our way to the embassy, a plus that I get to bring him to work. Boring meetings, translating for the Senator Po Nudo, listening to the office drama. It’s peaceful, and I almost started believing this is my life.

Well, boring until today.

Madrid Spain 04/13/2068 14:45

I was sitting at my desk, just outside the senator Po Nudo’s Office. Ace sitting in his dog bed by the desk, a silent sentinel as ever. And in they walk.

“Hello, I have a meeting with Senator Nudo,” says a soft voice. I look up and there is standing Senator Amidala, and Rex. His eyes go wide while it takes everything in me not to make a reaction.

“Of course, Senator, we’ve been expecting you. The Senator is awaiting you in his office. Please, may I get you any refreshments for you and your guest? Tea, water?” I say as I walk around the desk to open the office door for her.

“I am fine, thank you for the kind offer. Rex might want something though while he waits for me,” She gestures.

“Thank you ma’am, but I am fine.” His lips purse in a small smile. She walks in and I closed the door. I turn and take him in. I must play this smart, but he looks good. Dark suit, earpiece. Armed. His eyes shine with knowing, and he smiles at me.

“I’m El. It’s a pleasure to meet you. I assume with the work the senators are about to prepare for, you and I will see a lot of each other.” I extend my hand out to him, giving him a fake name. His hand is warm in mine.

“I’m Captain Rex of the 501st, and personal protector of the Amidala family. It’s a pleasure.” He voice is like sin and he pulls me in close by the hand. “Hello princess.” I shiver and step away.

“Can I get you any tea sir?” I offer. Ace is alert behind me, looking at Rex.

“No I am fine. Good looking dog there.” He sits down at the chair in front of my desk, crossing his legs. His thighs look like they will burst from the seams of his dark pants.

I shake the thought from my head. “His name is Ace, Here!” and I pat my thigh. Ever obedient, he heals to my side and at attention waiting the next command. “Say hello to the Captain Ace.”

The black Doberman woofs softly, and sniffs at Rex’s outstretched hand. “You trained him well. I have a dog, a German Shepard, Ally. She seems to have a brain of her own though.”

“Smart lady,” I laugh. The conversation breaks the ice, and he and I spend the meeting talking about the dogs.

We start to hear the senators rapping up, and I am briefly reminded that Rex knows what I do, getting tips from me here and there. This being so close to each other, its dangerous. Fror me and my dog. But Rex seems to read my mind. He looks into my eyes, and I into his honey gaze. “I trust you.” He whispers. I cannot fathom why. He shouldn’t.

“Can I see you again? Maybe...dinner?” I ask hesitantly. I could say it’s for the job if I was asked about my intentions from my …handler. I refuse to call her mother.

The smile on Rex’s face is dazzling. “like a date?” I blush. I haven’t blushed in ages.

“Yes, exactly like a date. Tonight? 7? I know a quite spot.” He offers standing up. Very close to where I am leaning on my desk. I can smell his spearmint tooth paste.

“O-Okay. Sounds like a date.” I say looking down. He lifts his hand, pulling my chin up into his eyes.

“Chin up princess,” he smiles.

Just then Senator Amidala walks out of the office and pauses. I slide away from rex, eyes wide. He has the decency to look bashful, and she gives him a knowing smile.

“Have a beautiful day Miss.” She offers and walks out. I give a nod and look at Rex. He just smiles and turns, looking giddy.

Senator Nudo calls for me and I snap out of it. Back to work.

But I can’t help the butterflies in my stomach. I am excited for tonight.

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boxwinebaddie · 7 months

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Hey Uncle Nina, I was wondering if you had any writing tips for new writers? ((Also side note but I am really inspired by you deciding to take breaks, (not in a mean way, i'm so, so, sorry if it sounded mean!!) I'm also just inspired by you in general your like my idol. :33))

hello my precious peach! before i begin, i would just like to start off by saying that you could, never, ever be mean, darling! you are so kind and wonderful!!! this message made me smile a rare kyle pile smile of over-large, lopsided stanley marsh proportions at my computer screen <33 and i admired it for many, many moons. :')

-- but i can't believe i'm your idol, possibly?! awww!!!! wowowow! i am extremely honored that you'd consider me as your idol given that i am constantly being a bumbling buffoon and am the ceo of girlfailuring.

behind 16k of nonsense and bold-space-italics, i swear i am just deranged writer college student, cat mom, box wine enthusiast.

i will say, however, that it means a lot to me that you find me inspirational or that you look up to me in someway because...

sigh. okay. please be cool guys. i debated mentioning this for a long time because i am scared it will punish me in some way, but...

i am studying to become a teacher. :')

woAh! new uncle nina lore just dropped! shdkahldk

so if i seem exhausted all the time, that is why, and if i preach at you guys a little bit, its just what i am constantly doing haha. i also specialize specifically in the area of social emotional learning, aka the part of teaching that focuses on mental health, creating a safe environment in your classroom, advocating/addressing student social needs, making sure students feel loved/validated/heard, etc.

with that said! i would love to give you some tips! anything i can do to support you on your writing journey means so much to me! i'll drop some things i have found helpful under the cut! xx

THIS ASK IS VERY LONG AND MAKES NO SENSE AT ALL BUT I HOPE THAT IT HELPS EVEN A LITTLE BIT! <3

i thought i would begin by playing off the part of your ask where you felt inspired by willingness to take breaks and!!!! i love that actually because...it took me a very long time to get there.

and if anyone has followed me from the very beginning, you watched me learn how to become kind to myself and go from rushing and stressing and feeling horrible about myself to...letting myself relax.

so, my darling, i want to start by saying...

fanfic is funfic.

writing is not always easy, no, sometimes it is very hard, but it should always, always, always be fun.

writing is a hobby. it's something that we do to unwind, to make us happy, to share stories through a creative media, to capture thoughts, feelings and speak without using our physical voices.

it should never, ever feel like work. ever. ever, ever, EVER!

if it starts to feel like work or a chore, it's time to step away.

one of the worst crimes i fell victim to as a writer was...rushing. i was obsessed with getting out my updates fast and not falling 'behind' ( which was some invisible and impossible standard i set for myself ), so i started rushing my updates and found they got really...forced.

forcing out writing feels horrible and even if it is good writing ( which i'm sure yours will be regardless ) it takes the fun out of everything. like, i forced out OG chapters 11-12 of peppermint and literally deleted them because of how much i hated them BECAUSE i rushed! forced!

and the reason i was doing that, unfortunately, was because i was trying to keep you all engaged! i wanted to satisfy you all, i was scared of letting you down, that you would be upset with me etc.

and unfortunately, along the way, i stopped...writing for me.

now, it's easier said than done but...

Write. For. You.

this is your story. you are writing it because it means something to you. you are writing it because you are passionate about it. and yes, it is fun to share your stories online ( i have never felt blessed in my life than to have had my stories read by all of you ), you are not writing it for the people who are reading it/to satisfy the masses/get notoriety, you are writing it because it's something you love.

if people read it and like it too, that is an added bonus.

and those people, i have found, are some of the loveliest in the world and they will...wait for your content. however long that will take. be it tomorrow or never. you are under no obligation to post within a certain time frame or please other people. post when you want. post when you feel good. write when you feel good.

with that said...take your time, will you darling?

however much time that is. take it. be greedy with it.

take so, so many breaks. come back with fresh eyes.

learn from my mistakes. i got so holed up writing this summer that...quite frankly, it almost killed me. do not do that. see your friends, touch grass, make meaningful experiences outside of fanfiction and then come back in healthy shifts. do not marry your work or your computer. do not chain yourself to your desk, lovely.

another thing is that writing is rewriting.

always write a first draft. and a first draft is anything past a blank document. i like to write all my drafts in google docs first and then transfer them when i am ready to format. it just keeps them secure and i really just prefer the format and the fonts and stuff, haha.

you may be writing something and being like, yikes! this is foul! i should delete this whole thing!

doooooo not do that.

leave it alone. just write your weird little thing and when you come back later you might be like...woah, i was kind of being a dickhead? this is actually pretty good, wtf? ooooorr...you may still not like it but you can always salvage parts you do like...or be like hm i like the direction that this was going in, lets follow that.

when i was an english major, i specialized in editing, so my favorite thing is looking at my horrible draft and sentence by sentence just fixing every sentence until i like it. <3 its tedious, but i swear its fun when you're done and you're like wow this is neat!

also, be kind to yourself, yeah? you might think what you've written is 'bad'...never use that word, by the way. nothing you write is 'bad' its just not the way you want it to look...Yet. you might need to rework it or, honestly, you are probably just holding yourself to an impossible standard. take pride in the things that you write! you worked hard!

i. am. proud. of. you. <3

one of my favorite things to do is...really understand my characters.

my favorite comments about my fanfics are that people think that my characterizations of the boys are really good which, means a lot to me because characterization and detail is very important to me.

i think its fun to flesh your characters out!

to do this, i have a notebook dedicated to my fanfics! i take notes about character backstories, headcanons, write myself notes when i have random ideas! it helps keep me organized!

i also like to do these character forms...it helps me have a solid feeling about my characters, how they look, walk, talk, etc. i love, love, love detail so i fill those out pretty thoroughly

( which!!!! if you guys want to see me fill one out! just ask me and specify which character to do it for! i could totally do pep!stan or pep!kyle or rm!jerseykyle or...ok actually, if i do raven i have to be Very Careful because of the plot...so...maybe ask me in a couple chapters before i do one on him...which pains me because THATS THE ONE I WANT TO DO!!! LIKE MAN!!!...i can also do side chars

***also maybe let me know what sections you want just because they are long as fuck lmaoooo help haha )

answer as many questions about your characters as you can! think about what they smell like! what types of food gross them out! celebrity crushes! one thing they could change about themselves? hidden talents? ideal man/woman/person? birthmarks/scars, etc.

i think ones about character motivations/dreams/fears/insecurities are reaaaallly good ones to look at.

also just putting your characters in situations is fun ( its why i like when you guys ask me about headcanons or give me one shot requests because it helps me flesh my characters out! )

( also if you aren't sure! that's okay! go with your gut! you can always edit! or change stuff! like...i learned about marj while writing pep and i used chapter five as a way to transition butters into marj...i also...fml found out something very annoying that impacts a large part of the rm lore i wrote BEFORE IT RECENTLY HAPPENED and had to painstakingly readapt my fanfic...around this info...but! thats on Being Flexible, my friends! writing...is rewriting )

also for inspiration! idk play dress up! hit your closet or the thrift store and wear something your character might! method act. ( if you are writing stan do not drink like him, i have done enough of that in my life for all of you, you're welcome it fucking sucks )

i am cringe but i do run the clove essential oil writing ravenstan/i did make a fireball apple cider ( yes they are gross, yes im gross ), i washed my face with an aggressive peppermint face wash writing stan season, i write a lot of my kyle chapters in large sweaters and frown often haha...

ok...uh personal cringey sidebar convo...weirdly sometimes writing stan i wear a lot of big hoodies, flannels and i am like...boy...nina? boyfriend? nina? why do i kinda? like him? skhdsldhd help if u dont get a little confused about ur gender for a second writing your boy fanfics are u really in character or what lmaooo

( off topic, but to respond to that, i think i am very comfortable in my femininity and girlhood, i just occasionally have a slightly more masc fuckboy backwards hat, ahah then what ;) frat boy moment that i lean into, mostly in a gay girl way...does that make sense? help sdjs the best way i can describe it is this meme lmaoo )

anywaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaays! moving on!

also reading your writing out loud! while weird! is very cathartic and it helps you check if dialogue sounds the way you want it! or if there is an accent you need to hear ( yall heard me do the jersey kyle accent to check pronounciation ) it helps you get more attuned with your writing and really get the feel for it. if you do not want to be a clown like me another thing you can do is highlight your whole piece an have your phone 'speak' it back to you...that way you can check spelling errors.

which...btw...spell with your heart. spell with a stanley marsh level of loveliness and possible illiteracy. it's ok. don't beat yourself up.

but more on characters! make pinterest boards! make playlists!!!! make them on piccrew! don't get obsessed but have fun!!!

( seriously though...do not worry about being too detailed. please be so detailed be so fucking insane. i love reading so much and your readers will too. but maybe i am a maximalist. i want to eat ur chars )

another thing i like a lot about writing is dialogue!!!! i LOOOOOVE dialogue so so so much!

i always write all my dialogue first and try not to write it on the fly because i like to use it as a way to mark my progress, keep me on track, help me remember what goes next, etc.

then fill in the blanks later! its good for plot pacing.

i get asked about believable dialogue sometimes and you really just have to look at how your character presents themselves and how they interact with your world...on a base level.

like i.e. you're new at school and you run into pep!style

stan is sweet and kind and popular and immediately very likable. he'll probably tell you your shirt looks cool/that he likes your hair, probably offer to carry your books and babble on and on about football, video games, marvel movies, cool dogs, nature etc. he's senior class president and gods angel so he'll look after you. he might hug you. he will also probably talk your ear off about kyle and how cool he is.

"woah! sick shirt dude! i love the smiths! i'm listening to them right now! but --ooooof. that's alooooot of books, man. oh god, is that -- ap...history? yiiiiikes, bro. i mean, no offense! it's cool you like learning stuff. kyle's like that. oh...kyle? ha, he's my super best friend! uh-huh, since kindergarten! you know, since you're smart you're probably in a ton of his classes. lucky. speaking of, you'll know him when you see him. he's really tall, he's got big curly red hair, lots of freckles, pr..pretty, s-soft hands and his eyes are really green, like, really, r-really green i mean wowz...ah-hah? my boyfriend? aaaaa, hahaa....no-no he's not my b-boyfriend, why would you--i sound like i'm in love with him? i-i well i do love him, just not like that...i mean, maybe a little mayb--let's get you to class, okay smart guy?"

HEEEEELP

kyle...rip. kyle would probably be like watch where the FUCK you're going new kid! fucking idiot! and then be like i...how do you know my name??? and be like ah, i see you met stan. if he likes you, you're probably alright...y-you have a CRUSH on him??? i mean, i get it...he is captain of the football team, has really big blue eyes, nice eyelashes, broad shoulders and is like smoooooking ho--IS HE MY BOYFRIEND???? UM! NO! he is--he is NOT my boyfriend! were JUST super best friends! pfft you...you asked because he talked about me...like i was his boyfriend? like he was in love with m--ah-hah...you-yknow! we're just close were just....whatdidhesayaboutme askhdlad

important to think about where they might use words like, uh, um, like etc. also things that might be specific to them. i have pep stan say wowza a lot because i think its cute. and that the boys say hyh all the time to eachother. making a lingo is a great way to form chats.

( for accents and stuff, i would just watch videos of people with those accents speaking...even using tiktok as a resource for slang people might use...saying stuff out loud...etc )

uhhhh what else?

BE WEIRD!!!! be so fucking strange and weird!!!!!! be so odd! if you're looking at your story and you're like oof...is this too weird? NO! make it weirder! make it so so mindboggling haha.

i remember i was writing rm and i was scared to post it because i was literally like...this is too weird. people are gonna think this is weird and too ooc and not like it but...

who are we writing for my friend?

YOURSELF!

who cares if its weird! who cares if one person or one hundred million people like your fic! we are publishing stories on the internet! that is already weird, so who cares????

write your truth. write whatever you want. if people dont like it. i seriously dont care. I LIKE IT. i like what you write.

but that does matter.

it matters that you like what you write. write for yourself. write because you love it. everything else is background noise.

do not be afraid to be selfish, to take care of yourself and write only when and what feels right to you.

you guys can also ask me more specific questions or have me beta read anything -- ask me about concepts you might want to write! my dms are open, i have a discord, my twitter...even on ao3! im happy to help and i hope any of this was feasible.

-teacher uncle nina

#this is such a mess #i hope any of this makes sense #basically #write for yourself and no one else #take risks and have confidence in what you write #take breaks and write without a schedule #do character forms make playlists pinterest boards hcs #method act if you need to #read your work back to yourself use voices if you want #its good for checking spelling and vibing with your writing #be cringe #write your stuff in a google doc then transfer to save your work #try dialogue first and then fill in the gaps #put your characters in diff situations #and see how they would talk and interact #see how that might differ character to character #and idk be weird #please be weird #do not be afraid to be strange or cringe or intense #i love and support yall being as insane as u want #also yeah uh please dont dox me that makes me seriously nervous i need a job u guys #i get paid actually zero dollars to write i write because i love it lmao #i get paid not that much more to teach but u know...box wine is not free and neither is therapy which i need often #but yeah whew teacher nina nation nina lore haha #ALSO NOT ME HAVING A GENDER MOMENT U GUYS #i luv being hyper fem y2k princess nina but also in bi girlie way i like being boyfriend nina who will carry u over puddles & wins beer pon #i think its funny when people run into me and they think im cute bc of my fit like oh my godddd #and then i roll up w my dead ass man voice and start being like shaka brah!!! bet!!! bet dude!!! you wont dude! no balls bro? ashdlkha #frat boy girl failure uncle nina nation who is up

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eldritch-spouse · 1 year

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So we know what's like if Krulu loves you, but what about Saudramar?

How would the Protector be like if he fell in love with you?

TW: Consent not specified.

Saudramar was a vastly different person from Krulu in some aspects, and though his tendency to have a stern look prevails for example, his demeanor was much softer when regarding others.

Given the cultural context of the time, falling in love with a lesser would be heretical. Corruption of values was already rampant in casts above his own, as human pets and lovers were kept almost openly, but for protectors and those below, getting found eloping with a lesser would warrant brutal punishment. So it truly does crush Saudramar to realize he's only got eyes for humans.

As a lover, Saudramar is subtle for the most part. He masks his love behind acts that can be interpret as generally helpful. Be it through helping you rebuild broken things, curing ailments, helping you with some chores and having long conversations. His touches are fleeting, chaste, but meaningful. You can see an odd longing in his eyes sometimes as he listens to you talk. A sadness. Desire he thinks he'll never get to fulfill. Saudramar always conveniently finds excuses to work near your living space, to descend from Eden and spend time with you. Though, for the longest time, it'll remain a superficial, gentle friendship. And an almost stalkerish degree of surveillance from his part.

The protector can't sleep unless he knows you're safe. He puts wards around your house and he gives you tiny bracelets made from endlessly valuable minerals just so he can know where you are at all times. Though honestly, he just enjoys giving you gifts, seeing that bright smile that mirrors his own whenever he gets to spend time alone with you. He says you're his favorite creation to ever walk the Earth. But he doesn't have the guts to say he craves you for himself. Because he knows that would be putting the two of you in great peril.

Everyone knows what usually happens when one tries to bottle strong feelings however. Sooner or later, the cap pops off and it all flies out.

It happens suddenly. One moment you're gathering sea shells on a beach with him, the next, you're somewhere entirely new to you. Secluded, remote, a place Saudramar made sure was scarcely visited by his kin.

He had planned to just confess to you, in a tender manner.

But being isolated with the object of his obsession has the siadar getting far too excited, and amidst his jarring proclamations of near violently intense adoration, those six arms grasp onto you like a spider spinning its web over easy prey. You're fondled and groped and forcibly undressed by the protector, who's almost delirious with the satisfaction of finally having you. His garbs are pushed aside and you're made to touch him while Saudramar promises that he'll keep you forever, safe and pleasured and so very happy. His lesser, his sweet songbird, his precious lamb. Used for hours upon hours by him.

You leave that encounter without a scratch, but you'll never quite be the same.

#Krulu oc

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sakebytheriver · 1 year

Text

Ok, JeffShirley let's do this

In the beginning I met you when you were nothing more than a little ball of raging insecurities lashing out at everything in sight and I was a piece of cracked broken glass getting beat up every night by daddy's words and sometimes daddy's fists and all I wanted was a place to feel safe, but all you wanted was a someone to hurt and that day I was your victim and you were my tormentor. You won the battle, but I wouldn't let you win the war. You turned me from a broken piece of glass to a pile of bloody shards and because of you I vowed to become someone else, someone who could never be hurt again, someone who would hurt others the same way you hurt me, because it was easier to blame you then the man who was supposed to love me. And yet even as you reveled in your victory over me, something inside of you had changed.

I changed you.

Suddenly because of me you never wanted to hurt another person again, because of me you became someone full of love and sweetness, someone who would choose kindness first, because I happened to walk into your rec center one day when we were both so little one person could change everything we are, you became someone you wouldn't mind looking at in the mirror, someone who would always be kind even when it was hard even when the world didn't want you to be and because the world is a cruel and unforgiving place it did it's best to show you it would beat you down even if you were good, even if you were kind, everyday life would show you pain, even as you did everything in your power to change your entire self, to be better, the world did everything in its power to prove that you chose wrong, breaking you the same way it broke me and as I became everything I hated, as I fell deeper and deeper down my own arc of self-destruction the world rewarded me for being the worst version of myself while punishing you for being the best.

Until it didn't.

Until it was all ripped away within one second and I was sent to the same place you were after the world showed you what being kind can get you, only now we're different people, we've become each other the first day we met, you now a cracked broken piece of glass the world wasn't quite done dropping on the concrete and I, a giant ball of raging insecurities that have nowhere to go except outward to hurt the people around me, but something happened this time around. We weren't enemies, we weren't on different sides of the aisle and talking to you brings something out of me, this small hidden part of myself that I thought I'd killed a long time ago that likes to be a little kid sitting with my friend under a tree on the playground giggling about the kid eating paste or the kid with the weird pants. Being with you feels so easy and natural and the more of you I uncover the more I realize how we are the same, the more I realize maybe you could understand me, because there's this darkness inside of you that only I can see, this pain that you have covered up so well that I have become the only one to see it, there is a person inside of you that matches so well with the person on the outside of me. The person inside of you that left over fifty polaroids of your blackout drunk face hanging up all over a bar downtown, the person inside of you that sent a woman's head through a jukebox, the person inside of you that vandalized a random woman's car, the person inside of you that goes crazy and just acts on the instinct to lash out and hurt, that person looks so familiar to me not because I met you when you were still fully them, but because it's the person I see in the mirror.

And yet even as I learn the truth, even as I find out that you were the one to finally break me I can't keep you as my enemy anymore, because I've experienced the you that lives now and even as I try to do the same to you, as I throw you against a wall as hard as I can to shatter you into the millions of tiny shards you broke me into over and over again all you do is turn around and tell me that I'm loved, that you love me, and it's just so easy to project onto you, because I had a daddy that never loved me and a mommy that loved me too much and you're the mother that never fully got to be a kid and with you it's just so easy for both of us to be the kids we weren't allowed to be and in the grand scheme of everything isn't it just some cruel poetic irony that you, the person who saw what life was turning her into and refused to be a play a part in it, the person who hurt so much all you could do was hurt others that recognized in the destruction of my innocence that this life is cruel and adding to the cruelty will get you nothing, even after all your work to become your best self you still ended up in the same place as me, the person who worked to become their worst self, because that's what I thought would finally make me feel whole after everything life did to beat me down.

Even though when we're together we're not good, we're also not bad, and maybe who we are is who we're supposed to be right now and maybe this version of me is the person you were meant to find

There's so many "what if"s left in that first day we met, when we were both so small that maybe being each other's friends would have made all the difference in where we ended up. What if we hadn't been playing against each other? What if you were on my team? What if you chased after me to apologize? What if we had played any other game? What if we'd sat together on the gross rec room couches and watched their shitty old TV swapping popcorn and stories of cringey classmates instead of what we did? What if our original sin was our origin story instead?

But as we look at each other and every single "what if" can't stop playing on loop behind our eyes, as I watch myself turn into a little kid following his friend on the playground, pulling her pigtails and poking her in the hopes she'd laugh or react to me and as you turn into a blushing little school girl with a mean streak who takes pride in teasing me just the right way to get me to squirm I wonder if it's always supposed to feel like this, if it's always supposed to be easy and filled with childlike wonder, if the fact that even when you hurt me and I hurt you we always find our way back to each other to make up is how my life is supposed to be

You match me in every way, the darkness inside of you is the same darkness I send out to the world and the light you project from every pore is the same one I try to stifle. You are my mirror, you are my catalyst for change and I am yours, we are not healthy for each other, but we are also the only one who will ever truly see the other, because when you look at me you don't see the lying corporate lawyer that cheated the system and when I look at you I don't see the middle aged divorcee with the crappy ex and the two unruly boys.

No, when we look at each other we see each other in the purest forms, a little boy reaching out for love and a little girl not knowing how to ask for someone to care and maybe just maybe this time around we can be the right person for that little kid inside of us both, because there's no one else who will ever be able to see me the way you see me and I don't know if I ever want there to be someone else, because I have you and that's really all I ever needed

#ignore me #jeffshirley #jeff winger #shirley bennett #community nbc #community tv #community movie #community #six seasons and a movie #long post

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uridestiny · 18 days

Text

The Warrior of the Moon Chapter 21: Tears of memories

Previous chapter:

https://www.tumblr.com/uridestiny/747036113351376896/the-warrior-of-the-moon?source=share

The days that passed after that incident passed normally, and the Forum withdrew the punishment and gave me an apology for how rude they were to me to the point of leading me to collapse. But deep down I couldn't blame them for anything, I couldn't even explain what was happening to me.

Adrien even came to visit us more often, and informed me about how the reconstruction of the cities was going after the Calamity left several destructions in its wake. It was a slow procedure, but sure, Adrien assured that they would recover sooner than we thought if they continued at this pace.

My days in the Noumenon passed normally, it has never been a job involving much effort other than organization and observation. However, something in me felt that things were no longer the same, and over time being between these walls and the shelves inside the library became suffocating for me. Sometimes when I had the opportunity to return home early I would take my bow and arrows, as well as the map that Adrien made for me on one of his visits, because the previous map was lost with the rest of his cabin.

I spent some afternoons walking through weeds and rocks to try to find a safe path between the lesser-known corners of the island. I was even curious to understand why the zone of civilization had a considerable limitation on the size of the island, although the most logical answer was It would probably be inside the empty volcano that is now known as Labyrinthos. Whose projects and experimentation to create ideal terrain for exotic creatures would be more entertaining work than the complete exploration of the island.

Thanks to Adrien's map, I was able to find an easy way to get back home just by looking at the position of the sun, I just had to get close to the shore next to the rocks and the sea to know where to go. On the way I found some trees and pine trees with holes, when my finger brushed over them, I noticed that they were made by arrows and I smiled to myself thinking that Adrien probably passed by here to leave his mark, I just hoped that the trunk of these didn’t has been damaged a lot.

There were also times where I felt watched, but Adrien warned me in advance that students from the reconnaissance and espionage department might be hanging around the area to practice their skills. So, I decided not to pay much attention while practicing.

I spent several months repeating this routine, but there were times when Aaron and I would return home together and it wasn’t possible for me to practice with him nearby; After all, knowing him, he'd make me listen to a sermon until his tongue hurt from talking so much.

But this day was different...

While I was trying to shoot an arrow, when I shot it, it never touched the trunk of a tree in front of me, because my arrow had been cut in two and was now on the ground. And when I tried to reach out to pick it up, a dagger landed right next to me.

I raised my head carefully and paid close attention to the sound, my ears perked up when I managed to perceive the sound of a person's breathing from above. I stood still, waiting for his next move.

¨Hey, where do you want to go by shooting so many arrows?¨ I heard someone's voice with a tone of sarcasm.

I didn't answer, but I stayed in my place, my eyes scanned the trunks of the trees around me, hoping to find the person who was talking to me, but it seemed like he was using an illusion spell to hide. Which didn't surprise me at all.

¨Hey, I made you a question, aren't you going to answer?¨ He continued insisting, but his tone was rude.

"I don't talk to people who are so cowardly as not to show themselves when they shoot a dagger almost in the face." I responded defiantly, if there was one thing I didn't like, it was being played with like that.

¨Oops, does it bother you little princess?¨ His tone sounded mocking.

I wasn't in the mood to deal with pranksters, much less spoiled children, so I got up from my position and with a quick movement with my bow and arrow I aimed up where I could see a small shadow and shot there. Then I saw how the shadow staggered and jumped somewhere else.

¨Are you trying to kill me?!¨ He shouted now sounding angry.

¨It seemed like that was your intention towards me with that dagger, I'm just giving you the answer back¨ I said sounding annoyed.

The shadow jumped from one branch to another, from one tree to another it moved, it looked like a slippery squirrel at this moment, probably its intention was to confuse me to prevent me from landing the next blow, but I didn’t want to continue this game of point and shoot towards the prize and lowered my bow, trying to show that I didn't want to continue with that. When he noticed this gesture on my part, I heard how he landed on the nearest tree behind me.

¨...How did you know I was there?¨ He said, sounding tired.

“You're not good at staying silent” I told him.

Then I felt his shadow descending towards me and I jumped forward and rolled around to face him; Leaning on one knee, I saw a young Aura, with blue skin and dark scales with glowing orange eyes. He seemed to be only a couple of years older than me.

We looked at each other for a few seconds, until in our awkward silence we finally put an end to this game of hide-and-seek.

¨My name is Maral¨ He said and stood up. "Maral Kahkol"

I also got up, as we were standing face to face, I could see that he is tall, but he still needs to mature a little, because as I have heard, the Aura can measure up to 2 meters in their adult stage, even surpassing the Elezen, but at this moment, he barely surpassed my height, he would probably be close to that; When I was just about to open my mouth to speak and introduce myself, he spoke first.

¨You are the younger sister of Aaron and Adrien Urih; Destiny Urih I have heard a lot about you¨ He said and crossed his arms. ¨However, I didn't expect that after getting into so much trouble when you went to Eorzea without permission, that you would be willing to get into new ones, if any of my classmates ever tell our professors that you are in this area, I can only imagine that you will receive a letter for the next call to the Forum for your behavior.¨

I crossed my arms, actually kind of surprised to he knew even a little bit about me.

¨But something tells me that you are not snitches, there is a reason why you have the espionage department, not only do you learn to be stealthy, which you have failed today, but also to keep secrets very well.¨ I said without seeming affected by his words.

To my surprise, he smiled.

"You're clever, but that doesn't take away my curiosity to see you shoot arrows in such a far corner. The way you hold that bow, it doesn't seem like you're just practicing for fun. What are you trying to do here?" He asked and I noticed how he was looking at my face, scanning my gestures and probably something that would reveal my thoughts more easily.

"I'm just looking to be stronger" I said without giving much thought, but my answer apparently brought more questions to young Aura.

¨But why do you want to do that? I mean from my knowledge, you have a good family, and you don't seem to be in a bad position to need to go into battle, you even have a pretty face, you could even get a husband and never work in your life, not even the possibility of taking another weapon in your hand... Well that would only happen if you were looking to stay on the island of course.¨

In addition to having flaws in his stealth, he talks too much. It says mere theories about a person about their personal life from the present to the future without considering other possibilities, such as the person's will. I sighed to myself, I didn't have to explain my life to a complete stranger and give them reasons to imagine new scenarios.

¨What I do shouldn't worry you, better try to improve your stealth.¨ I said as I turned around to leave.

¨So that means you want to leave the island?¨ He said suddenly and I stopped.

I didn't say a single word, but then I felt him approach me again and try to look at my face again, trying to figure me out again.

"Listen, I have heard a lot about what happened with the fall of Dalamud and the Battle of Cartenau, it was a very dangerous and frightening scenario, one would think that a person would be traumatized to return to the place where they saw such a nightmare" he insisted.

"I have my reasons" I responded without flinching, but inside I was already eager to leave and burning with anger, however I didn't want to show this to him.

He kept his gaze fixed on me, as if waiting for a reaction from me of some kind, and then he changed position and put his arms behind his head. He walks a few meters away from me and then lowers his head to look at me out of the corner of his eye again. Seriously, I didn't understand this guy.

¨If you want to survive out there, you won't achieve it just by shooting arrows... You need to know the basics.¨ His words resonated in my mind, but I didn't want to hear a lecture from him.

“I know some things” I said, trying not to sound smug.

¨Really?¨ He paused and smiled, mocking. ¨Do you know how to collect wood? Turn on a wood fire? Or do you even want to prepare a tent to camp at night?¨

I changed position and faced him, already tired of his teasing.

¨Yes, but preparing a tent for camping no.¨ Then I crossed my arms. ¨But I learned that a viable option to avoid predators is to climb trees. Or preferably high places with good visibility, but you should not be in sight, but in the shadows.¨

Then he nodded his head, ran his tongue over his teeth making a clicking sound and then smiled big.

¨You seem like a decent person, did you have another life before coming to Sharlayan?¨

I didn't want to answer that, instead, I sighed and tried to leave.

“If you are good with your homework, you will have to find out for yourself.” And with that said, I decided to make my way back home.

Of course I had my reasons for leaving the island once again, but I had to prepare for it, I didn't want to shelter in the walls of Gridania again waiting for stronger people to protect me again. I couldn't do anything before during the events of the Calamity... And that feeling hasn't stopped tormenting me since that night...

It had been almost 1 year since those events...

That night, when I was looking at the stars after that unusual dream, I tried to find solace by looking at the sky, like I always used to do; I looked for the constellations, and watch the stars shine in different colors, to observe the brightness of the full moon, and even try to follow the trail of a shooting star that passed over the sky.

But none of that had the answer I was looking for, there were no words in heaven that could explain to me the reason why many people lost the memory of adventurers who were no longer here. Then I tried to focus on the words I could remember from that dream, although they were few, I could understand a couple of things.

I could vaguely remember having helped an adventurer, I didn't remember if they was a man or a woman, I couldn't remember their appearance and I couldn't hear their voice, but if I could remember that them was injured, I help them, and even support them in the work, we exchanged many words, but they talked about heroes and adventures, about stories that they heard and that they wanted to make a difference and to help those who need it...

¨ To make a difference and to help those who need it...¨ I whispered those words as if they were important, they created a strange feeling in my chest, like a kind of mantra that I had to do for myself too.

In my time in the Gridania infirmary, many people asked about these adventurers, and out of curiosity, I ended up hearing that most of these people sought glory or fame about their deeds, searching for treasures by accepting challenges and battles that ordinary people couldn’t do, face danger with courage to protect... Not many adventurers had good intentions, but of the few who tried their best... They no longer had a face or name, and that... Destroyed the hearts of many.

It was then that, under the starry sky and the cold air entering my lungs, I remembered that there was a pleasant warmth in the words of the adventurer I met, although I could no longer remember it, a part of me told me that, they was a good person, and they truly wanted to do the best for others. I remembered the feeling how nice was it to spend time with them, but now...

That person no longer existed in the world...

During those months that I spent practicing using my bow and arrow more intensely, I remembered the words of this adventurer. And then I thought about my life; I had seen myself how cruel and raw the world could be, a hell that can consume you if you face it alone. There are people who simply see a vulnerable being to do whatever they want with them, who do not care about the well-being from others only just the benefit they can obtain, whose selfishness could kill more than one person along the way, to the point to end their life; Just as there are those who see the weak as tools to serve others, oppressing them with fear and binding them with false promises of freedom, those who enjoy seeing the pain of others, because they are pleased to see someone weaker than them...

With each of these thoughts, I shot the arrows with more anger at the trees, reaching the point of feeling my fingers hurt from holding my arrows roughly and I only stopped when I ran out of arrows and looked at my hand with cuts and blood bathed in it...

There were days when I came home with my fingers bandaged, but at no time did Aaron ask me any questions about it. I guess he was waiting for me to explain my injuries. Fortunately, that never affected my work, I was still able to hold the books and record them, so I didn't see the need to take a break for this.

When I returned to practice, I just hoped I wouldn't see again that Aura that interrupted me on the previous occasion, with him in the middle, I was worried about hurting him. But for my misfortune... He was standing there.

I silently walked forward with the intention of walking past him and looking for another place to practice my aim, but then I felt him take my arm.

¨You know the trees aren't to blame, right?¨ He asked and I raised an eyebrow, not understanding his intentions now.

¨Don't you feel any love for nature? Unleashing your anger against their trunks is not going to recover what you have lost.¨ He insisted, but I raised my arm so that he would let me go and move him away, but instead he squeezed my arm a little more.

"Could it be that you did your homework? Or do you just want to bother me again?" I asked in a sarcastic tone.

When I looked into his eyes, what surprised me most was seeing that there was concern in them. And I realized that he was holding me by my arm with my hand injured by so many hours of furious practice to shoot arrows.

¨I didn't do it, but I can easily say that you didn't do this to yourself because of your desire to practice for self-defense or just be stronger... This is anger.¨ He kept his hand firm and didn't let go of my arm, but he wasn't squeezing it anymore.

"That's not your problem, so I'll ask you to please let go of my arm" I said in a warning tone.

Maral paused, trying to gather the words he sought to express.

¨I decided not to investigate your life, so I don't know anything about you, only what my classmates and I have been able to see from afar and hear out there. But I can see in your eyes that you have suffered a lot." He said, for the first time he spoke in a soft tone and there was not a hint of joking.

¨Whatever it was, anger won't fix any of it. And you may lose yourself"

I looked at him in silence, I had no intention of talking about my life with a stranger. After that, he let go of my arm.

¨...Tell me something, was everything in your life bad?¨

He asked and walked a few meters away from me. I turned around to see him, but he only showed me his back.

"Maybe this is just personal opinion but... I think you should try to remember the good things too, after all, there must be a reason why you have a nice smile."

Before I could say a complaint about it, I saw him take a big leap upwards and I could hear him laughing out loud as he jumped from one tree to another. I didn't understand at all what bug had bitten him to say those words.

It was probably him trying to bother me again, which, he run away just to leave me with this feeling of confusion. In the end I decided not to think about it too much, and just take it as a mockery towards me.

I decided to sit in the grass and brush as I look up again, the stars are just making their appearance in the sky, but there is enough illumination for me to understand my surroundings.

I looked at my right hand covered in bandages and sighed at the slight sensation of pain between my fingers full of wounds, it was clearly the reflection of my arduous nights of practice, but I couldn't deny that all that time I was also feeling deeply frustrated by my thoughts about our world. Although I didn’t have a normal childhood, there were situations that made the suffering less...

I ran a hand through my hair, ruffling it as I sighed... And finally I decided that I didn't want to train today, so I let myself fall on my back in the grass and brush, and I saw the sky and the stars, the night was coming and the stars would cover the sky in that vast black sea that has always been out of our reach.

During all that time, I tried again to find the constellations, but I didn't have much luck with all the trees around me, limiting my area of vision of the sky, but that didn't bother me at all. Since the moon was more difficult to hide between the trees, especially if it shone with all its splendor when it was in its full phase.

At some point I ended up taking one of the arrows and started playing with it with my good hand, making it spin around in the air a few times, and then holding it in my hand to play with the feathers and the sharp metal tip; For some strange reason, I felt hypnotized just holding it and playing with it. Before the bow and arrows, my father had taught me to use a small knife, but he only taught me to use it to defend myself against small animals, but if I was unlucky enough to find a large one, I had to hide until he came to find me or wait for the beast to take another path.

But in the end... He was always there to save me.

I sighed sadly at the memory.

Unfortunately, time plays very badly with the mind and you end up forgetting almost all the details of your life, and only the ones that had the most impact remain, I was no exception. I remembered my parents, but the moments of happiness and peaceful days felt very far away for me, and I hardly remembered much about them. Which sometimes gave me a little anxiety about forgetting them.

But I did remember clearly what my uncle did to me... I remembered my sisters when we worked for him. I even remembered clearly how he handed me over to Garlemald soldiers after selling me.

The days I spent as a slave were deeply etched in my mind... The fear, the anger, the pain, the helplessness I felt when I was trampled by them every day. But... She wasn’t like that, Khistis was different... She, despite being Garlean, took good care of me and it was she... Who freed me from that life.

My vision became cloudy as I felt tears emerge in my eyes, a feeling of sadness and relief washed over me like that day. I could never forget that feeling I had when I got out of that bag and in a long time I had left my cell to see the stars, the forest, the wind, the night... They were the greatest and best gift I received in my life.

When I met Adrien, it was the beginning of a new life that I had never thought I would have, I met my brothers and thanks to them, I was able to feel like I belonged somewhere again.

I didn't want to forget any of them; to my parents, my sisters, Khistis, or my brothers... Even... Mr. Leveilleur and the adventurer I met.

My tears didn’t stop falling that night, as I recounted all the good and bad things that happened in my life, each of them showed me a small part of the world in its cruelty, but also showed me its beauty and goodness.

Time passed since then...

With every visit I made at night to continue practicing, the more often I had Maral's company with me, apparently, apart from not doing his homework, he used to sneak out of some of his classes just to annoy me with his new methods of hiding and sharing his ways to “survive”. Although I found his jokes in bad taste, I admit that he was pleasant company over time and we became good friends.

We even trained together several times to continue growing in our fighting style. Thanks to his support, I managed to improve my aim a little more and was able to shoot arrows when a high-speed target appeared in front of me. Just as he would ask me for help to test his hiding skills, with my good hearing and sense of smell, I could easily detect where he was and the challenge was that I wouldn’t find him, which, sadly, he couldn’t achieve. But a part of me wondered if he even had any intention of getting serious about improving his stealth skills.

Also, we had moments of breaks, where he, being very curious and observant, used to listen to many interesting rumors and gossip, but he always asked me for discretion in not sharing them because he would probably be the one who would get into trouble.

My work at the Noumenon was no different than usual, but when Aaron finally decided to ask me what I did with my free time, because he ended up noticing that I wasn't home after my work hours, I ended up telling him the truth about my nocturnal activities during training of using my bow and arrows, but that I did it with a friend from the reconnaissance and espionage department.

His only reaction to this was to run a hand over his face and say that "I was easily following in Adrien's footsteps by making friends with them."

I smiled a little sheepishly, knowing that probably a new worry had been added to Aaron's list. But the surprises would not end there.

For those curious, when Maral mentioned Destiny's smile. It's because he has been watching her since the moment she entered the territory to train with her bow and arrow for the first time. Since then, if he has the opportunity to see her, while he is wandering around the city or on an exercise with his classmates, he goes to see her.

#ff14 #ffxiv #final fantasy 14 #final fantasy xiv #ff14 wol #ffxiv wol #ff14 writing #ff14 fanfic #ffxiv fanfiction #my ocs #my writing #emotion #sad thoughts #anger #new friends

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sasuhinasno1fan · 8 months

Text

Wish come true - Adrien AUGreste Day 20, 21 & 22

Another major thank you to @etherealxgenie, who betaed while sick mind you. Please go get some rest. To be honest, this chapter was basically making the characters do some of the things I did while in London for 2 weeks. Also, I didn't actually know it took basically 2 hours to get to London from France. I just gave Felix a random number to say and the realized I should probably check that. Anyway, enjoy! London

“Here you go.” Juleka handed a box with the Fox Miraculous to Master Fu. She and Luka had been switching dropping the boxes off.

“Paris will rest easy knowing they’re safe. Was your brother busy?”

“I’m sure you’d like to know.” Juleka replied. Fu was better but still preferred speaking any Miraculous business to Luka. He shut him down, insisting she’d be involved. “I’m sure he’ll come by. He’s going to have to unify with a Miraculous if anything happens tomorrow.”

“Tomorrow?”

“We have a school trip to London to go see Big Ben. It’s reopened for visits. Luka was supposed to go with us, his school works with in person schools to allow their students to join in person classes or even field trips so they can still get a semi-true experience. It was also going to fulfill a history paper for him but with Hawkmoth using every excuse to attack us, not to mention all of our rehearsals for Jagged Stone’s concert. He's not going anywhere.”

“That doesn’t seem fair.”

Unable to help herself she asked, “would you think the same if we were switched? If I was homeschooled?”

Fu stared at her, before looking away. Sure she had her answer, Juleka turned to leave when he spoke. “You both know I never wanted to be a Guardian. I’ve been trying to write many wrongs since then and I’ve had to give up even more things in the process.”

“Like Marianne.”

“You know, I am not even sure if I was really sick or if I let my fears control me to the point of punishing myself. I was free from their teachings but I still let them rule me. I still do. The Ladybug without their Cat never lasted long. Regardless of what Plagg has done in the past, he has always kept his holders alive or left when they have gone to the point of corruption. Some situations would be worse without him. The times your brother has had to fight without you have been the hardest battles. I should remember that, but it would seem the bais I was taught holds tighter than it should. It would be wrong to limit you, both of you without allowing you a chance to step back like I wanted. Here. This is the Horse Miraculous, which has the ability of teleportation. Alya has already let people know she will be out of town and the people of Paris are very good at filling in the gap. Not to mention the new measures that have been active. If anything happens here, you’ll know. But don’t unify. Both of you pushed it during the Kwamibuster akuma. You are lucky exhaustion was the only thing you had to deal with.”

Juleka took the collapsed glasses and looked at Master Fu. It was a slow progress, but he was trying his best.. And honestly, she should appreciate the attempts.

“Thank you.”

“Enjoy London. It’s been years since I have been there, but it’s a beautiful city.”

_______________________

“Has he texted you?” Rose asked, also focused on her phone.

“Luka, no. Felix, yes. He’s got things booked for us to eat when we’re there.” Adrien said.

Rose pouted. “How am I supposed to enjoy London without my girlfriend?”

“I think that question also applies to me. Look, we both know if Luka’s school says no, Juleka will try and stay with him and he’ll try insisting she go. We’re basically just waiting to see who will win.”

Groaning, Rose turned to their teacher, whining for answers.

“I’m sorry Rose. The headmaster hasn’t sent me an email with any notice. I’m just as clueless as you are.”

“Rosie!”

Perking up like a dog hearing its master, Rose located her girlfriend, who was walking over with her brother. “Julie!”

Adrien himself noticed something about his boyfriend. “You have a bag with you.”

“I do.” Luka said, swinging his sling bag to the front. It was the type that looked like a standard backpack in size and looks but it was thinner and only had one strap. “Think Felix will be ok adding one more?”

“If he isn’t, I’ll just have to take you on your own tour.”

“Ah, Luka. I just got the confirmation email from the headmaster.” Mml. Bustier said, tucking her iPad into her purse and pulling out a pen. “He mentioned paperwork?”

After assuring Luka would have time for his assignment, Mml. Bustier signed off on the paperwork before calling “Alright. I know we’re missing 4 but we’re allowed to start boarding in 2 minutes. Max, Alya and Marinette are already on board. Max’s mother is a train conductor for those who remember and she’s actually going to be driving our train to London. Chloe, any word from Sabrina?”

“She texted when she left. I keep sending her notices.”

“Is it that stupid text alert where you demand she hurry up? It’s a little degrading Chloe.” Alix pointed out.

“I haven’t gotten it off her phone yet, relax! Besides, I bet you her dad is making her late giving everyone tickets. If she misses this train, this time I will fire him.”

“Guess we shouldn’t remind her what happened last time.” Nath whispered to those near him.

They went ahead and started to board the train while Chloe waited on the platform for Sabrina.

“I’m here! I’m here!” Sabrina called, pushing the full-sized suitcase ahead of her.

“Sabrina, hurry up! What took you so long? I swear to god if it was your dad!”

Luka came off the train and helped Sabrina lift the suitcase over the gap, surprised at its weight. Adrien, who’d come with him at Sabrina’s cries, tilted his head at the sight.

“Ok first, Chloe you do realize it’s actually pretty warm in London right now, right? Also, why did you have Sabrina bring a massive suitcase? Barring any issues, we’re going to be back in the evening.” Adrien asked.

“It’s full of everything she might need. She’s the daughter of an elected official. Who knows what’ll happen?”

“I’d like to think the minute we step foot in England, we won’t be pelted with rotten fruit.” Adrien said.

“This might be one of those ones you need to let go.” Luka whispered as he passed by.

Sabrina didn’t seem bothered and Chloe seemed more upset at the idea of Sabrina missing the train more than the suitcase, so he decided to leave the two to Mml. Bustier. His only objective was to enjoy the trip to London with his friends and boyfriend, all excited to see Big Ben without the cover and meet up with Felix again.

Marinette ended up asking for a seat to herself so she could spread out her designing things which made Adrien’s heart hurt a little. He’d be banned from working and buying cosplay supplies as punishment. He might have gotten his dad involved to get the sentence lifted, but it was basically in exchange for his presence on the trip and at the opening concert – which was in two days! – it meant no cosplay. Which sucked because he was hoping to do another couples cosplay with Luka.

Said rocker was yawning as the train departed, something he’d been doing since he arrived. Juleka didn’t seem any better, already tucking her head into Rose’s neck.

“You ok?”

“Tired. I didn’t think I’d be able to go, so I stayed up trying to look up other historical monuments that weren’t as talked about in France. Juls helped. We didn’t get confirmation until this morning and Maman had to rush to get the email forwarded to your headmaster so I could be allowed to come.” Luka explained, his whole body relaxed as his eyes started to droop.

“Here, switch with me. Come on, move.” Luka got up, letting Adrien push him to the window seat. He watched him pull something down from his bag sitting in the overhead and caught what he threw at him.

“What is it?” The item in hand was plush, a bit long and twisted in on itself, similar to an infinity symbol.

“It’s a neck pillow. Trust me, I’ve used this on every plane and train ride since I got it. You can either use it to protect your back against the wall or wrap the rings around your neck to keep your head supported.” Adrien explained, pulling Luka’s legs onto his lap, looking at him expectedly. “Sleep. When you wake up, we’ll be in London. You’ll get everything you need for your paper and then we have the rest of the day to ourselves.”

“Can we go on the London Eye? I don’t think I ever got to ride the Ferris Wheel with you, like I wanted to back then before Alya’s sister got akumatized.” Luka asked, pulling his jacket off to be his blanket.

“Yeah, I think we can do that.”

The train ride had been going smoothly, when the announcement of heading under sea level was made. Adrien had pushed his headphones to one ear and glanced at Luka, who managed to hide the bottom half of his face in the pillow, but was still asleep.

“Ow!”

“Marinette? What’s wrong?” Mml. Bustier asked.

“It’s just my back. I hadn’t realized how much I’d been hunching over.”

“Oh! I have just the thing! I’ve got hot and cold packs in my suitcase. If you put one on and rest, I’m sure you’ll feel better in no time.” Sabrina offered, heading out to the First Class cabin. A few minutes later, a few screams echoed as people came rushing into their cabin, Chloe and Sabrina following the pack.

“What is going on? Sabrina, Chloe?”

“There was an akuma in my suitcase! It must have appeared when my dad was getting angry. My suitcase popped open when we got to the station, it must have gotten in then.”

“Everyone got out and I locked the door behind us. I’ve never seen an akuma go through solid doors so we’re fine. We just need to let the train driver know so they can contact those in Paris so Scarlet Bug and Catseye can know and meet us in London. Or back in Paris if we end up reversing the whole way.” Chloe explained.

Just then the hauntingly familiar sight of bubbling purple and black substance ran over the train, turning the sleek silver into dark red and purple.

“Ladies and gentlemen, I am Startrain! I’m afraid our final destination has switched from London to the stars! Fasten your seatbelts! We have lift off!”

Everyone screamed as the train started to tilt and vibrate, scrambling to grab onto anything or anyone. Before they knew it, they’d broken through the atmosphere and started to float without the weight of gravity.

“Guys, I don’t think we’re going to be able to get in contact with France, let alone Scarlet Bug and Catseye.” Nino pointed out.

“Forget that. The only thing that’s keeping us alive is the fact that the whole train is akumatized.” Max said. “Unless they have a way of getting the train back to earth before capturing the akuma, the pressure will destroy the train at best and at worst, we’ll all die a slow death of freezing with no oxygen.”

_____________________

“Hey Luka.” Adrien said, rubbing his boyfriend’s back. “Ragazzo, we’re here.”

Luka whined, rubbing his face into Adrien’s legs. Moving didn’t sound like a good option.

“Come on. Felix got us a bus so you can sleep there on the way.”

“Isn’t it like a 10-minute drive?” Luka asked sleepily, eyes still closed.

“Then you can use it to wake up. I know our first trip was a lot, but I didn’t think you’d crash that hard the second trip. Come on, we have a much shorter time now thanks to the akuma.”

Luka whined more but eventually pushed himself up, letting his jacket fall back onto the seat as he wiped his face, exhausted. He stretched his back, cracking loudly.

“Are you ok?” Adrien asked, concerned.

“My back just hurts. I guess when the train landed on Big Ben, I landed kinda oddly.”

“Guess that’s what happens when you end up locked in a bathroom while in space. Come on.”

Felix stood outside Kings Cross Station, standing in front of a double decker bus.

“You were supposed to be on the train for 2 hours. How is it you got here nearly 4 hours later? Can you even get to your tour reservation?” he asked, directing them onto the rented double decker. Mml. Bustier called for everyone to not just sit on the top level. “Better question, are they going to want you there? That was technically your train.”

“Mml. Bustier said she tried getting in contact, but the lines were busy. We’ve been checking the headlines and so far, nothing about them closing for the day.”

Adrien watched the Couffaine siblings collapse into a set together and used each other as pillows as they passed out. Clearly this essay was a definite need to pass.

“Are they ok?”

“Yeah, they just didn’t get much sleep. So should we go over places to visit and stop by?” Adrien asked.

Casting another concerned look, Felix pulled out his phone, one with an attached stylus which he immediately pulled out as he brought up a list. “I was going to suggest a museum or two, but there’s no way we could do that and get back in time.”

“What about historical monuments? If he’s this exhausted trying to work on the essay, I’d like Luka to at least see one monument he can go to.”

“Assuming Big Ben and surrounding areas are closed, there are a few. The Tower of London could be fine, if we join a tour quickly enough to go see the crown jewels. But it can get pretty crowded. So maybe Westminster Abbey? See Saint Paul’s? Maybe visit the Globe Theatre if we have time? There’s also St Bride’s Church. They have a whole exhibit downstairs.”

“What about the market? Borough Market? The glass covering they have, I heard it used to belong to the Royal Opera House.”

“To be fair, with how old the Opera House as a company is, I’d consider that a monument itself.” Felix said as they got closer to the famed clock tower. The traffic they were running into however didn’t spell good news. “Anything else you want to visit?”

“London Eye. That’s for Luka and I.”

In the end, the trip to Big Ben was canceled thanks to a train crashing into it. But Mml agreed to the visits to the other monuments instead. After going over the options, with Luka having final say for his essay, they decided to go to Saint Paul’s. While half the class took the track up to the top, the other half went downstairs to the gift shop and even walked over to the Abby. They watched Felix of all people, follow around a pigeon in circles, giggling as it flew off to get away from him.

“It’s actually a thing that the pigeons here are rather tame. If we had time to go to the Museum of London, you could actually get some like them at the gift shop.”

“Yeah, too bad someone can’t enjoy it like you do.” Alya said, looking over her shoulder to where Adrien stood close to the door of the Abbey gift shop, darting back inside when a pigeon waddled too close.

Once they all met back – and got away from the pigeons – Felix clapped his hands together once mention of food came up. “So, while Harrods is on the menu because a certain someone wouldn’t stop demanding it,” he said glancing at Chloe, who had her feet propped up on Sabrina’s suitcase, “If you want something else, we have the choice of heading to Borough Market, which has a lot more options and more of a chance for you guys to explore or, my mother and I have a permanent reservation at Sanderson Hotel for their Mad Hatter afternoon tea. There is also ‘afternoon tea’ at the crypt in Trafalgar Square, but it’s more of a food court you can happen to get an afternoon tea tower at.”

Mylene raised her hand. “What about ‘granny cafés’?”

“Those are mainly at garden centers and you won’t find many in London proper compared to a bit further out in the city. A reminder, your teacher did book a reservation at a local pub for your last meal before you get onto the train.”

“How about the afternoon tea? Then we can split up for a while?” Max suggested. “According to Maps, there are a fair few things to do around the hotel when we’re done.”

“Hello? What about Harrods?”

“If it’s ok with you guys, Luka and I are going to go to the London Eye after. It’s in the opposite direction, so maybe we can agree to meet at the pub at a certain time?” Adrien asked.

After agreeing, they split into groups ahead of time as they were dropped off at the Sanderson Hotel. Each round table held 4 people with 2 towers each. Adrien’s table felt Luka’s plight from when they’d gone to St Vincent beach as Adrien made them hold until he was done getting pictures of everything and with the book menu, the music box sugar holder and everything else, his friends were getting close to rioting. There was nothing to tide them over.

“Adrien, I am begging you! Please.” Felix said, close to banging on the table.

“Alright, alright. I’m done, go ahead.”

Even though Adrien was done taking pictures of the food, pictures were still taken of everyone, mid bite or mid sip, laughing at whatever anyone had said and questions to both Felix and Adrien about other things they wished they had a chance to visit.

“If your families are ok with it, you’ll have to come back during winter. They have this huge winter festival, not to mention the winter markets, down at Hyde Park. I never went, but always heard my classmates say it was fun.” Felix said, eating the last of his scone.

“Oh yes please! I want to bring Marc here. He’d really enjoy this.” Nath said. His tablet was full of sketches of everything they’d seen. A half-done sketch of the tower, including more whimsical elements fitting Alice in Wonderland was on the screen for anyone to see.

“Mother would love more people over. Let me know.”

Chloe already had a game plan for Harrods that she explained to her group and Felix left her to it. Meanwhile, Adrien got his group to the Ferry that would get them to the London Eye. The line for the famed Ferris wheel wasn’t too long, nothing compared to the line for the local Ferris wheel for the World Cup. The pods were bigger so the group and a few other tourists shared one pod.

“Isn’t there something called the needle?” Nath asked, sketching the scene, glancing over his shoulder. Luka had taken a seat on the bench and had his arms wrapped around Adrien’s waist, leaning against his stomach as a food coma started taking over. Adrien was trying not to disturb him too much while taking a selfie of them.

“I know there’s something like that in Brighton. It’s called the Brighton i360. It’s like the Ferris wheel but all around. I’ve heard people say it’s not worth it though.” Adrien said, giving up and tucking his phone away as he ran his fingers through Luka’s hair. “More to explore with Marc?”

“You’re going to get sick of me asking for reconditions after a while.”

Meeting back with everyone at the pub wasn’t hard and Felix, once again, worked his magic to get them a semi private table in the back. While a few were upset when Felix explained that Sunday roast was only really just for Sundays, his suggestions were taken to heart.

“If you can convince your mom to let you come to France in 2 days, you can stay with me. We’re opening for Jagged Stone. You mentioned you thought his music was ok.” Adrien said to Felix. Both ate their fish and chips in the same way, dunking their chips into their peas. Alya had pointed it out, joking that they had to be separated at birth with the many things they shared in common.

“The weak spined overweight Pomeranian actually kept his word?” Felix asked, uncaring when the Kitty Section members nearly spit their food out at the comment made about Bob Roth.

“We sent our mom over for all the parents.” Luka said. “He didn’t last two minutes with her.”

“Now I have to go, if only to meet this woman.”

Desserts were taken to go and they had just enough time to visit Platform 9 ¾ before they needed to head to their platform. Felix promised he’d try and get his mother to agree and after a few unexpected hugs given to him by members of the class – well Rose and Adrien’s were expected because that’s who they were – he sent them on their way, meeting up with Max’s mother again as their conductor for their return trip.

Insisting Adrien take the window seat this time, Luka pulled out his laptop as Adrein set their desserts onto his table to feed Luka while he worked. “So, how are you going to start this essay? ‘Since Big Ben was out thanks to an international Akuma, I turned my attention to Saint Paul’s Cathedral’?”

Laughing, Luka said, “Maybe not like that, but it couldn’t hurt to mention I witnessed Big Ben up close and personal in ways tourists could only dream of. That and it being the sight of London’s first akuma attack. If that doesn’t get me an A, I don’t know what will.”

#adrien august #Adrien AUGreste 2023

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