#maybe a country where they had to change the title of a children's book

[givemea-dam-break]

heyy could you do anthony lockwood x reader, where they used to be best friends but something bad happens to the reader and they stop talking and after years the reunite because of a case. maybe angst and fluff

a/n: absolutely!!! i had an idea for something like this, so i hope you enjoy! there isn't too much fluff, just as a warning, but there's lots of angst lol :)

warnings: mentions of death, language gn reader

part 2

You shouldn't have come back to London.

After years of being away, it all feels so unfamiliar, so busy and suffocating. There's so much going on, so much noise, that it's overwhelming and you can barely breathe. Once, London was home. Once, London held everything you called dear. Not anymore. Now, it is a strange land of bright lights and rapier-bearing children. But nothing has changed about it. Only you.

The taxi you occupy turns onto a quieter street, free of traffic and pedestrians, yet somehow it feels worse being here. The houses tower above you like looming monsters, waiting to swallow you whole.

Stepping out of the taxi is the second hardest part of this whole ordeal. The hardest? Ringing the doorbell.

An iron line is inlaid in the ground at your feet, dampened by dust and muck and faint imprints of muddy shoes. The flowerboxes beneath the ground floor windows are slightly overgrown but bursting with colour. Even outside, there's a faint smell of tea and toast.

When the front door opens, your heart lurches in your chest with nerves. A girl, likely the same age as you, stands there, her hair bobbed and her eyes bright, offering you a smile that hides a little confusion.

"Hello," she says, her accent distinctly northern. "Can I help you?"

"Yes," you say, trying to push down your unease. "I was hoping to get an appointment? I know I've not booked ahead, and understand if you're busy, but I have a problem with a few ghosts."

She hesitates before saying, "Of course. Come in. I'll get my colleagues. Do you want any tea, a coffee, maybe? Some water?"

"No, thank you," you murmur, stepping into the house. You're worried if you drink anything that you'll throw it all up.

The house is cluttered, to put it simply. Masks from dozens of different countries hang on the walls. Rapiers are set in an umbrella stand next to a shoe rack. The rug running down the hallway is old-fashioned and tattered. A crystal skull provides light from a sideboard.

Nothing has changed.

The girl, who introduces herself as Lucy, gestures you into the living room and you sit on the aged sofa, picking at the skin around your nails as she hurries off to the kitchen to get the other two members of the agency. When she returns, she's carrying a tray of biscuits.

A boy with dark hair walks in first, pushing a pair of glasses up his nose as he studies you. He sits on the sofa across from you, close to the door, his interest shifting from you to the tray of goodies on the coffee table. His name is George, you are told, and he gives a distracted wave, pulling a notebook out of a side-table drawer and opening it up to a tattered page.

It's when the second boy steps through the door that you want to up and run. Dressed in a shirt and tie, he looks the most professional out of the lot, carrying the company's 'prestigious' title on his shoulders. His hair, neatly brushed, falls across his brow above a pair of dark, shining eyes, and he's grinning in such a charming and polite manner that it makes you feel a little more at ease.

It melts when he realises who you are.

"(name)?" he says incredulously. "(name) (last name)?"

Lucy sits on the same sofa as George, frowning. "You two know each other?"

Anthony Lockwood has not moved from the doorway. He looks at you, wide-eyed with lips parted in shock, and your hands shake so you stuff them in the pockets of your jacket.

"We did once," he says after a moment. "What can I do for you?"

As he moves to the armchair closest to your sofa, his movements are stiff and tense. You try to keep your gaze away from him, worried you'll implode if you look at him for too long. You really shouldn't have come here, but you don't trust anyone else to help you. Not Fittes, not Rotwell, not Tendy's, not any of the big agencies.

"I've got an issue with two ghosts," you say.

George snorts, and Lucy elbows him. "Don't we all?"

Lockwood ignores him. "How so?"

Swallowing your anxiousness, you say, "My mum and aunt... Well, to make a long story short, they got in an accident about a month ago and didn't survive. Since then, at night, it's been freezing in the house, and my dad - he's not doing well. It's a given, because of what's happened, but this is much worse. Like the life is being drained out of him. And then I started seeing their ghosts. They creep down the hallway at night, talking to each other and crying, and my dad isn't getting better. I need you guys to get rid of them."

The words are hard to say, and you have to ignore the expressions on the agents' faces lest you break apart into a million pieces and start crying.

Lockwood is the first to speak. "(name), I'm so sorry -"

"I don't want condolences," you cut in sharply. "I want them gone."

George pauses writing in his notebook. "You're our age, right? Can't you get rid of them yourself?"

"George!" Lucy scolds. "This is their family, it's not that easy."

"I'm not an agent," you say. "I was never trained to be one. I've always had plans for higher education, so my parents kept me out of that field. Believe me, if I could do it myself, I would. This is a last resort for me. London is the last place I want to be, right now."

You don't add that this house is specifically where you hate being. You definitely don't add that the boy sitting mere feet away from you probably wishes you were on the other side of the country, and that you feel a similar way. It's hard even sitting in his house after everything that's happened.

"Look, I just need to help my dad," you continue. "Every day, their spirits seem to be draining him and I don't know why. We're just a half an hour out of London in this little town. It's not far, I swear."

"Why not get Fittes?" Lockwood asks, and his voice shocks you. The tenderness in it. The care. "They operate nationwide. We're London-based."

"I don't - I don't trust anyone else to do this." Anxiously, you pick a biscuit from the tray, and George seems to heave a sigh of relief, plucking one for himself. "If it were some ghost we didn't know, then, yeah, whatever. But this is my family. I don't want strangers dealing with them."

"That's exactly what we are," George reminds you around his biscuit.

"Not me," Lockwood says. "(name), we'd be more than happy to help you. And I'm sorry to hear about their deaths. It can't be easy."

Shrugging, you say, "I'm coming to terms with it. How soon can you come?"

The three agents share a look and Lockwood says, "Within the next few days. We just need to do some research and get some equipment. Is that all right?"

You nod, taking a bite of the biscuit and cringing at the taste. This isn't the flavour you like - you meant to pick up the biscuit next to it.

"Lucy, George, can you guys head to the Archives soon and get some research done? I'm going to speak to (name) for a little longer."

Both nod, casting glances between you and Lockwood, before disappearing into the hallway and gently closing the door behind them. Your heart lurches with anxiety, and you want to curl up in a ball and hide from Lockwood's gaze.

"You look different," he says after a moment of silence. "You got your hair cut."

"You sound different," you retort. "I suppose puberty finally caught up to you."

He breathes a laugh, but it's slightly strained. It's not easy being here with him, but you've got to get through it or things won't get better at home. You can't just sit and watch the only family you have waste away.

So, here you stay, trying not to look at Lockwood for too long. A heavy, tense silence hangs over you both, interrupted only by Lucy's and George's voices and the front door slamming shut as they leave.

"They both seem nice," you murmur, placing your biscuit down on the tray. "How'd you guys meet?"

Lockwood looks like he's been shaken from a daze. "I met George after he'd been fired from Fittes and we became friends, set up the company. Lucy came a little while after looking for a job. It's just been us for the last year."

"I've heard about all the work you guys have done," you say. "Exciting stuff, huh? I saw your face in a newspaper at the train station earlier."

He grins proudly, and you see his mother in his smile. It takes you by shock, thinking of his mum after so long, and grief clutches at your heart. Here you both sit after years of being apart, both motherless, both fatherless in your own different ways. So long ago, your differences were what tore you apart. Now, they've brought you together again. You're not sure how to feel about it.

"So..." The smile fades a little, and he sits back. Everything in his posture screams comfort and ease, but you can see the twitch in his fingers and apprehension in his eyes. "How have you been? It's been, what, three years since you left?"

I didn't have a choice, you want to say. Family issues were what caused you to move away from London, but Lockwood had never been able to see it that way. After the deaths of his parents and sister, he only ever saw it as you leaving him. His shouts from the day you told him seem to echo in the silence of the room now.

"Three and a bit," you say. "I've stuck in school, applied for universities. It's just a waiting game now, seeing who accepts and who doesn't. What about you?"

He shrugs. "Same old. Getting rid of ghosts. Throwing darts at a picture of you on my wall."

You know it's a joke to try and lighten the mood, but something in your chest hurts when he says that.

"Are you still mad about me going?" you ask. "Lockwood, you know I didn't have a say in that."

"Doesn't matter now. It was years ago."

A frown slips onto your lips, and you shift on the sofa uncomfortably. Anger is rising in your chest, threatening to break free, but you can't let it. You need him to get rid of your ghosts, and he likely won't do that if you're shouting at him.

"Look, I get it, you felt like I left you, but I didn't. I sure as hell didn't want to. I mean, I begged my parents to let me just stay here with you, but I didn't have a choice. If you want to be mad at anyone, be mad at them."

"I was fourteen -"

"So was I!" The words escape your mouth before you can stop them. "What did you want me to do? And, no, I don't want a bullshit, Stay. I wanted you to fight. Because that's what I did. But I was fourteen, Lockwood, and I didn't have a choice."

A muscle twitches in his cheek and his jaw sets as he looks away from you. "Like I said, doesn't matter now."

"It does matter," you insist. "The only person I have left in my life is my dad who's slowly dying. I've made no friends back home. I've got nobody. I was hoping... God, I don't know what I was hoping by coming back here. That maybe you would've gotten over this stupid grudge?"

He hesitates as if about to say something, but he stops himself short, opting to stare out of the window behind you.

"You're the only friend I've ever had, that's why I trust you to help me out. And I thank you for agreeing to it, but do we have to carry on like this? With you mad at me for something that wasn't my fault?"

"You did write me a letter in which you called me a 'selfish prick' and a 'conceited asshole' among a few other things," he comments.

Screw not getting angry.

"Because you didn't even see me off the day I left!" You stand from the sofa, hands closed in fists by your sides. Your nails are cutting into the skin of your palms. "We even came here so I could say goodbye, but you refused to open the door."

"Did you think I could face seeing you leave?" he demands. He looks at you now, his gaze edging on a harsh glare. "The only person I had left leaving me behind. I was hurt, (name). I would've only prolonged it by seeing you."

You grit your teeth. "You are unbelievable."

"You're no better."

Reaching into your pocket, you pull out a few ten-pound notes and a slip of paper, and slap them on the coffee table. "A deposit for the job and our address. My dad and I won't be in, so you won't need to worry about us being in the way. Give that number a call, and we'll head back to pay the rest of the fee."

Lockwood stares down at the money for a moment before looking back at you. "You don't have to pay us for this. We're friends."

"Oh, so now we're friends?"

It's hard to keep the scowl off your face. Slowly, Lockwood stands, as if trying not to startle you with quick movements. There's a look in his eyes, similar to one he'd get when you were mad when you were kids and wanted to try and calm you down.

"I'm going to pay you for this," you say, "because, otherwise, you might bail on us, and I am not risking my dad's health for your fucked-up need to keep grudges on the wrong people. So take the money, and call the number when you're done. After that, you won't need to see me again, all right? I'll be out of your life for good, leaving you to your new friends and flourishing business while I fuck off somewhere else in the country for the rest of my life."

Once more, he hesitates. "What will you do at uni?"

The attempt to ease the conversation back to awkward politeness enrages you, but you suck in a deep breath to calm yourself and say, "History. I'm going to explore the world and hear about the cultures and practices surrounding ghosts. Someone I was once close to inspired that."

Lockwood may well believe that you're talking about his parents, who famously travelled to many countries in search of information, but they are not the reason. He is.

Despite it all, despite the things he's said to you in the past and the pain you've felt from dozens of letters pleading for a response only to be left unanswered, he's the reason for many things you do. Why you make your bed the way you do; why you put honey in your tea and sugar in your coffee; why you still wear a single ring on your right hand, matched only by one other. One that he still wears.

"I'll see you in a few days," you say tightly. "After that, you'll have no need to see me again."

Softly, softer than you thought possible, he says, "And what if I want to see you again?"

"Well, you have my face on your wall to throw darts at, remember?"

"I'm being serious, (name). Look, I'm sorry for... everything. We can work it out over coffee someday, or something, maybe?"

You hesitate, thinking about his offer. Your heart longs to, to be sitting with your childhood best friend once more and working through your issues. Maybe you'll be able to be friends again, maybe to be something more like you had so wished years ago - well, if you could ever feel that way about him again. But the bitterness of betrayal still clings to your heart.

"Get rid of the ghosts," you say, hand now resting on the handle of the living room's door, "and we'll see."

A little smile tugs on his lips, relieved that you haven't flat-out refused him.

"Just know that I'm only here for a few more months. Then I'm moving to university. If you're not too worried about me 'leaving' you, I'll consider the coffee. But only then. I'm not going to put myself through a pointless conversation if we're just going to have a repeat of last time."

"We won't," he says.

And despite the pain of the memories, you believe him. Because you always have. Maybe that will be your downfall.

[annabawritersdreamsideblog]

Characters from my untitled original (Ties That Bind...?=> TEMPORARY BOOK TITLE=> IT MAY CHANGE)

(to be updated, revised and more)

[Historical fiction novel set sometime in the Middle-ages/Renaissance. In order to have more creative freedom, I've decided to create fictional kingdoms but, since I have thought of no names yet, I'll use the names of the places they're inspired by when describing the characters. For now, at least. It will be updated when I've come up with decent names]

Families => Main characters

Rúadhán & Cecilia. They live on Celtic-like island (think of a remote Greek Island but settled by Celts) with their four children Órla, Mairéad, Elena and Giuliano. Cecilia was an "Italian" noblewoman of the House of Venier—that's probably a placeholder name, but I really like it and the Venier family were an actual Venetian noble family—who gave up everything she had (or was disowned, I still have to decide on that) to marry Rúadhán (he is a merchant and traveled a lot, that's how they met).

Fancasts:

Rúadhán=> Engin Öztürk

Cecilia=> Selma Ergeç

Órla=> Şeyma Burcu Gül

Elena "Enna"=> Synnøve Karlsen (maybe I'll keep the name Elenna and it will be a misspelled version of the name)

Mairéad=> Isolda Dychauk (most likely especially if younger than Enna)/Miriam Leone/Charlotte Hope/ Natalie Dormer (as Margeary)/Junia Rees/Amelia Gething/ Marta Gastini (if dark-haired like her sister)/young Hatice?/Burcu Özberk

Giuliano=> Ruairi O'Connor

Royal Family (the country is supposed to be akin to the Ottoman Empire with hints of Tudor England. Predominantly Ottoman but major changes are made on a few things—I'll try to research as much as I can)

I don't have a name for the king and queen (might as well end up being emperor/empress) yet, I only know he married three times and two of his wives executed.

Children from his first marriage (from left to right): Princess Elizabeth, Princess Alexandra, Princess Mary and Princess Catherine.

Fancasts:

Emperor=> Anthony Head

Empress Sophia Alexandra (Safiye)=> Hülya Avşar

1 miscarried son

1 stillborn son

Princess Margaret=> Jodie Comer/Rebecca Ferguson?

Princess Elizabeth=> Gaia Weiss

Princess Alexandra=> Gözde Türker

Princess Mary=> Holliday Grainger

Princess Catherine=> Suki Waterhouse

King's second wife

Queen #2=> Aslıhan Gürbüz

Aneurin Barnard? ( He looks like Aslihan so it might fit)

-

Lady Catherine, the King's illegitimate daughter, her mother is unknown.

Fancast=> Astrid Berges-Frisbey

House of Contarini (family crest=> eagle)

I don't know about titles. Italian nobility (they're Italian) used 'Messer' and 'Madonna' so I guess I might keep them. They're nobles, so why not.

Messer Piero and Madonna Maddalena and their children Lorenzo Elio, Laura and Lucrezia.

Lorenzo (nicknames Enzo or Elio) serves as Ambassador and ends up marrying Elena (Enna)

They'll have eleven children

Fancasts:

Piero=> James D'Arcy

Maddalena=> Tülin Özen

Lorenzo=> Daniel Sharman

Laura=> Gonca Sariyildiz

Lucrezia=> Merve Boluğur

Matilda Lutz as Lisa=> Leonardo/Lorenzo's sister.

(HE HAS THREE YOUNGER SISTERS AND LISA IS THE ONE HE'S CLOSEST WITH- SHE MIGHT BE HIS TWIN OR THEY MIGHT TEN/ELEVEN MONTHS APART)

*they also are of "Greek" origin and they're devoted to "Greek" gods. The family is devoted to Aeolus, god of the wind=> insert backstory*

That's also where "Nanourisma" comes into play.

Cecilia (the girls' mother) was also of Greek origin. Enna knows "Nanourisma" as well

Main couple (to add more)

Also, these two up above are basically a more historical version of Elenwë from my LOTR/Silmarillion fic "The Lady of Ithilien". Their chapters will be a RETELLING of said fic in a different context.

These are the main characters, this post will be updated periodically as I come up with new ones!

[viatagrinner]

Many of you write such interesting theories about Gilbert.

I want to participate too... (Lol, the route will be out in less than 24 hours.)

But my theories usually don't come true and I pay attention to unnecessary things.🤣😅

Here are some thoughts on Gilbert's route.

Childhood.

1. I don't get the feeling that Gilbert was born in the palace and lived there originally.

It seems to me that his situation is the same as Jin's. Lived somewhere far away until father found out/remembered he had a son. Perhaps Gil lived in an orphanage or a place with lots of kids. Maybe the foster parents had a lot of children.

Why?

He's good with kids (communicating with little Luke as well as the kids from the Christmas event), the kids trust him, he knows tricks, how to entertain the kids and how to communicate with them.

Yes it is manipulative, but a man who grew up in the cold and cruel court of the emperor could hardly have found common ground with such ease.

2. (I get a sense of deja vu, as if I read this in someone else's post a long time ago.)

He is not the emperor's son at all.

Gil is from a captured kingdom. And the emperor adopted him.

国王 - kokuou - king.

This title, for example, was used by Silvio's father.

"王" (ou) means "king".

But Obsidian is an empire.

皇帝 - That's what Gilbert calls his father.

皇子 - ouji - imperial prince.

But "王子" is used to describe Gilbert.

A traumatic accident.

The implication is that Gilbert used to be ordinary, perhaps somewhat like Emma in his kindness.

1. What happened to the prince? The answer in the "More Love with the Beast" event.

In "More Love with the Beast," Chapter 2, there was an episode when Gilbert saw a book with a "sinister black cover" in the bookstore where Emma worked. The girl does not know what country it is from, but it is written by a promising author.

The darkness of the imperial court was depicted in detail, a very realistic description of the darkness of the human heart.

But she liked the main character.

Gilbert was interested. (Even the heroine paid attention to it.)

What did she like about the character? She liked his unwavering conviction, and whatever intrigue he faces, he insists on his innocence.

Even in the face of great evil, the hero never gives up, sticks to his convictions.

Emma wants to emulate this hero. Gilbert remarks that this character is like a girl. "Honesty and purity." And he asks her never to change.

2. In the recent event, (The Prince is a bodyguard.)

I think we will meet this character again.

???: Listen, Gil. I'm on your side no matter what.

???: I promise. I won't leave you alone. So... okay?

It's a male.

Because he used 俺 - ore. For women, that's rude.

3. In Clavis' dramatic ending, Gilbert notes that he and the 3rd prince are similar.

Both don't trust people. People are tedious until they "break".

So, my guess:

It doesn't take a genius of deduction to figure out that the book describes the court of Obsidian.

А) The main character in this novel is Gilbert.

This man, who told Gilbert that he would be at his side, ended up betraying the prince.

From that moment on, Gil's behavior changed.

There used to be "honesty and purity" in him, but not anymore.

B) And you know, while I was writing, I remembered something else... Clavis' dramatic ending again. (Chapter 24)

Gilbert: People can be controlled by fear, and there's no fear more effective than love.

Perhaps the main character was this unknown man who promised not to leave the prince, but the fear of losing this man made Gilbert give up on him and everything good about himself.

Current Situation.

Again, thanks to the story of Clavis and a bit of Silvio, we know that there are two factions in Obsidian: the Imperial faction and Gilbert's faction.

The Imperial faction is brutal, corrupt, and "rotten".

The emperor and his men spare no one.

Again the story of Clavis, and again the Dramatic ending: Liden, the head of the area where Emma and Clavis ended up, was the Emperor's man brutally suppressing the resistance (I don't remember very well what he was killing people over).

Thoughts about what happens next.

1. Why is the prince in such a hurry? Maybe he found out that his father wants to go to war again with Rodolite, Benitoite, and Jade?

He doesn't want to let that happen. And he needs to take the throne. Why then is he hanging around in another country? He wants to get to know a future ally and then maybe an enemy.

2. It's not a violent game after all. It is unlikely to show or tell that Gilbert killed his father. More likely to send him off somewhere and take the throne (second CG.)

I think the art where we are shown a "gothic" Emma, and where Gilbert said that "bad guys don't care if they're loved or not" (sorry, I don't remember his exact words, and I'm too lazy to look) is the dramatic ending. The prince hasn't changed. He remains a sinner, will "repaint" the heroine in darker shades, but will be happy with her. Here he became an emperor, perhaps a slightly better version of his father.

3. The prince sometimes (though in events) calls himself a sinner, and he kills people very easily, but does not repent of it. Perhaps even for him, killing his father (even his adopted father) is a sin.

4. Does Gil have a second eye?

I wish... And a different color. 😍😅 But most likely the eye is lost. Perhaps it was a punishment from the emperor. Maybe it has something to do with that unknown man.

5. Yves & Gil

This is where I looked. Because I didn't really remember the plot.

The only thing I found.

Willow's mother was a princess (English version) and 王族 - Royalty (Japanese version).

What does that give us?

Imperial family - royalty

Difference between 皇族/王族.

皇族: Emperor's (天皇's) family

王族: King's family

Yves' mother may have been a member of the royal family of the fallen kingdom.

It is unlikely that Yves is the son of the emperor. But he could be related to Gil.

[laura-elizabeth91]

Theresa May: Boris, Brexit and me

Four years and three prime ministers since she left Downing Street, Theresa May has written a book and loosened up (a bit). She tells Caroline Wheeler why she’ll never stop biting back from the back benches — and why Donald Trump wouldn’t let go of her hand

T

heresa May’s political awakening came when she was about seven years old. “I have a distinct memory of there being a knock at the door one evening and the door being opened to two chaps, one of whom had a big blue rosette on,” she recalls. She later learnt this was Neil Marten, the Conservative MP for Banbury, Oxfordshire, near where the May family lived. “My father took him and the chap who was with him into the sitting room and I went to join them and the door was shut firmly in my face. I was told, ‘No, this wasn’t for children. This was an adult thing.’ And maybe being shut out of the debate was the first spark.”

The daughter of a vicar, she was 12 or 13 when she decided she wanted to go into politics. “I just woke up one day and thought, actually I’d like to be an MP. I think that being an MP can be as much a vocation as being a teacher and I suppose perhaps [that idea] had been generated by an upbringing of public service.”

May became the country’s second female prime minister when she entered Downing Street on July 13, 2016, in the wake of the Brexit vote and David Cameron’s resignation. She lasted three years, announcing her resignation in May 2019 after failing to get her Brexit deal through parliament and her party performing poorly in the European elections. She left office on July 24, succeeded by Boris Johnson, the nemesis who plotted her downfall.

May says her resignation speech was the only time she ever displayed emotion publicly. “It wasn’t crying exactly, but when I gave my speech outside No 10 my voice sort of cracked a bit. I went back into No 10 and Gavin Barwell, who was my chief of staff, came out and said, ‘Well done.’ I said, ‘No, my voice went at the end and I’m really annoyed at myself,’ and he said, ‘No, no. That shows good emotion.’ ”

Since then the politician formerly known as the Maybot — for her sometimes robotic answers to questions — seems to be living something closer to her best life, making careful interventions from the back benches on the Sue Gray report into the lockdown-breaking parties held across Whitehall and retaining the protections her government introduced on modern slavery; and, once, wearing a glittering ballgown to the vote of confidence in Johnson in June last year. (She was on her way to speak at a dinner marking the Queen’s Platinum Jubilee — and has never disclosed which way she voted.)

In the weeks after she left No 10, on a walking holiday in the Swiss Alps with her husband, Philip, May first had the idea for a book. It would pull together the threads of many issues she had dealt with, first as home secretary and then as PM. Out next month, it is called The Abuse of Power, a concept she defines as institutions of the state and those that work within them putting themselves first — way ahead of the people they are there to serve.

With a title like that you might expect it to be payback time on Johnson, but the index points to just 13 fleeting references to her fellow former prime minister. Indeed, the closest she gets to score-settling is an attack on John Bercow, the former Speaker (and Remain supporter), whom she accuses of carrying out the biggest abuse of power she witnessed during the Brexit impasse over Northern Ireland: “We got to a point where the DUP were being positive. We were actually at the point of them being willing to say they would support the deal. The normal processes went on in terms of going to the Speaker to talk about the motion, and he wouldn’t let us put the motion down. So that meant we couldn’t have the debate, we couldn’t have the vote, and by the time we did the DUP had changed [their mind]. And so there was a point we could have had a vote to do Brexit on the basis of the deal. He took a decision that meant that didn’t go ahead.”

Bercow certainly added to the pressure on May, amid claims he was working with opposition MPs to thwart Brexit, but with the numbers stacked against her in the Commons, it is likely that even without his intervention she would have struggled to get her Brexit deal through.

Instead, her book focuses on events outside the chamber, including the Hillsborough stadium disaster, on which she commissioned Bishop James Jones to conduct a report in the wake of the verdicts of unlawful killing in the second inquest; the police cover-up over the murder of the private investigator Daniel Morgan; and the Grenfell fire. The book is dedicated to her parents, whom she says taught her the “meaning of service”. They both died before they could see her become an MP.

When I arrive at her house in the village of Sonning in her Maidenhead constituency, where she has lived for 27 years, May, 66, is in the kitchen discussing recipes with her aide. She has plucked one of hundreds of cookery books from her shelves and is leafing through it. In the centre of the sage-green room, which has large windows overlooking a well-kept garden, is a wooden table where we make ourselves comfortable. Philip, 65, a now-retired investment manager, pops his head round the door. The pair, who met at Oxford and have been married for 43 years, chat for a few moments, finishing each other’s sentences, before he scurries away to find a more private corner of the house.

May was born in Eastbourne, East Sussex, in 1956, the only child of Zaidee and Hubert Brasier, who was a Church of England vicar and the chaplain of a hospital. After studying at Holton Park Grammar School, which became the Wheatley Park comprehensive while she was there, May went on to study geography at St Hugh’s College, Oxford. She then worked at the Bank of England and the Association for Payment Clearing Services.

After two unsuccessful attempts to enter parliament, at 40 May became the Conservative MP for Maidenhead in 1997 as Tony Blair’s Labour Party swept to power. She spent much of the next 13 years on the shadow front bench. In 2010, when the coalition government won power, Cameron appointed her as his home secretary — only the second woman to hold that great office of state. She became the longest-serving home secretary in more than a century.

“They always say you had to be a communist in your youth, a socialist in your young adulthood and a Conservative as you got older,” she says. “I’ve always been a Conservative.” Her upbringing taught her the “importance of the freedom of individuals”. “It was the sense that, actually, how far you’re going in life is down to you. It’s about your talents and your willingness to work hard. To me the Conservative Party always provided the better environment in which people could succeed.” Her mother wanted her to be a nun. Did she ever entertain the idea? “No, absolutely not!”

Aside from Geoffrey Boycott, her cricketing hero, May’s father was her biggest inspiration. “His absolute conviction was that he was there for everybody who lived in his parish; I’m there for everybody who lives in my constituency. To him it was regardless of whether they were coming to his church or not. For me it’s regardless of how somebody has voted. Once you’re in that position you’re there to support and help them, to work for them.”

Growing up as the daughter of a vicar, she says, isn’t so different from being the child of a politician. “There was a combination there of public service and public speaking. In the vicarage there was very much a sense that we were there for other people.”

With such responsibility on young shoulders, did she ever feel the need to rebel? May famously claimed the naughtiest thing she had ever done was run through a field of wheat. “I haven’t had a rebellious childhood and suddenly transformed,” she says. She has also admitted that her guilty pleasure is eating peanut butter straight from the jar. “There’s no transformation on peanut butter — there’s a jar in the cupboard!”

In 1981, a year after her marriage to Philip, her father was driving to a nearby church to conduct the Sunday evening service when he was in a collision with a Range Rover on the A40. He died of head and spine injuries. A few months later May’s mother, who suffered from multiple sclerosis, also died. At the age of 25 May was an orphan. “I suppose it made me even more want to do something that they would have been proud of. Even though they wouldn’t see it.”

However much May might want her legacy to be the legislation she introduced for net zero emissions by 2050, or the Modern Slavery Act — which created new duties and powers to protect victims and prosecute offenders — she knows her premiership will always be seen through the prism of Brexit. She voted to remain in the EU and now believes her life in Downing Street would have been easier if she had been a Brexiteer.

“I don’t think it would have been easier on the negotiation side, but I do think — when I look back on it — that there were some of my colleagues who were Brexiteers who found it difficult to think that a Remainer would actually deliver Brexit,” she says.

Although she claims she is not trying to blame others for her mistakes, May believes her failure to get her Brexit deal through parliament was due in large part to people putting their personal interests above those of the country. “I started off with the view that we had to find a way of doing Brexit that recognised the concerns of the 48 per cent who voted Remain,” she says. “It became this atmosphere of both Brexiteers and Remainers trying to get what was their absolute aim, rather than a compromise that would better suit everybody.”

There were also serious global events for May to grapple with. She was the first world leader to meet President Trump when she travelled to Washington in January 2017, days after his inauguration. The visit took a bizarre twist when photographs emerged of Trump holding her hand as they walked through the White House.

“I have no idea why he did it. I mean, he sort of said, ‘Oh, there’s a slope so you need to be careful on the slope.’ Now whether this is because Melania always wears very high heels or not, I don’t know. I had heeled shoes on but they weren’t high heels. I thought, ‘I’m capable of walking down a slope, thank you very much,’ and the next thing I know he’s holding my hand.” She adds, laughing: “The best interpretation is he’s being a gentleman. But subsequently a lot of people said maybe he needed the support going down the slope. I don’t know. He just grabbed my hand and I thought he would then let go of it, but he didn’t.”

May’s tone becomes more serious when discussing the abuses of power Trump would go on to commit. She describes the storming of the Capitol building in January 2021 as “a wake-up call for us all”. “If you look over the years since the Second World War, there was a sense that liberal democracy was going to be sweeping the world, almost, and it was there and it was embedded and we could take it for granted. I think what happened at Capitol Hill showed that we can’t take it for granted.”

In 2018 she expelled 23 Russian diplomats after an attempt by Vladimir Putin’s regime to assassinate a former spy, Sergei Skripal, on British soil — in Salisbury — with the nerve agent novichok. She says this was the “right message” to send Putin. “In terms of the invasion of Ukraine, we have to look back to Crimea, and even before that to Georgia in 2008. I think arguably the West’s response did suggest to him that the West wasn’t willing to stand up for its values. The West turned its attention to China. So Putin, I think, felt that the West was more divided, wasn’t as coherent in terms of its support for its own western values. I think that all built up into an opportunity for him and he took it.”

Since the invasion, she says, “what’s happened is that the West did come together, the West did show its willingness to support its values, and rather than the division of Nato he’s seeing the expansion of Nato. He’s seeing the West made more coherent and he’s seeing the numbers of troops that Nato are willing to put on his border increase. So he has actually achieved the opposite of what he wanted.”

May’s premiership could have taken a different course had she achieved the landslide victory she had been on track to deliver after calling a snap election in April 2017. For much of the campaign she enjoyed a double-digit poll lead over Labour. But her manifesto pledge on social care, nicknamed the dementia tax, was widely blamed for extinguishing her lead.

May claims the decision to call the election was down to timing, as she was concerned that leaving it any later would have seen an election follow hard on the heels of the UK leaving the EU. “I was obviously extremely disappointed with the results. Surprised, because we’d thought that we would be able to get Labour Leave voters to switch, in order to get Brexit done.

“What happened in the 2019 general election [when Johnson’s Conservatives won 365 seats to Labour’s 202] was what we had expected to happen in the 2017 general election,” May reflects. “What we hadn’t realised is [the Labour leader Jeremy] Corbyn hadn’t shown quite sufficient negativity to Brexit that the Labour Leave voters decided to switch [to the Tories], which they did of course by 2019.”

Did she consider resigning in 2017?

“I felt I’d started something and I wanted to finish it. I said, ‘Look, I got us into this, I’m going to work to get us out.’ ”

May gently chides me for asking if she cried as she saw her majority evaporate, pointing out this is not a question that would ever be asked of a man. “I think often with women politicians, people want to pigeon-hole them. It’s either ‘You’re so soft that you shouldn’t be doing the job’, or ‘You’re a real hard harridan’, like they did with Thatcher. I didn’t feel discriminated against in the sense that most people would describe as discrimination. As with the Maybot thing, there is a different approach taken to women politicians.”

Disappointingly May today is wearing an uncontroversial turquoise cotton dress, not the £995 chocolate-coloured Amanda Wakeley leather trousers she wore the last time she was interviewed for The Sunday Times Magazine in 2016. “All those comments about ‘How does she spend so much on leather trousers?’ — they were lent to me for the shoot! It only goes to show how sometimes women are judged in different ways from men.”

She is used to the slings and arrows. At a crucial Tory party conference in Manchester in October 2017 she had a coughing fit as letters from the slogan behind her (“Building a country that works for everyone”) fell slowly from the wall, and was interrupted by a prankster waving a P45. A year on, in Birmingham, not long after the quality of her dance moves on an official trip to Kenya had been criticised, she hit back by strutting onto the stage to Dancing Queen.

Disappointingly May today is wearing an uncontroversial turquoise cotton dress, not the £995 chocolate-coloured Amanda Wakeley leather trousers she wore the last time she was interviewed for The Sunday Times Magazine in 2016. “All those comments about ‘How does she spend so much on leather trousers?’ — they were lent to me for the shoot! It only goes to show how sometimes women are judged in different ways from men.”

She is used to the slings and arrows. At a crucial Tory party conference in Manchester in October 2017 she had a coughing fit as letters from the slogan behind her (“Building a country that works for everyone”) fell slowly from the wall, and was interrupted by a prankster waving a P45. A year on, in Birmingham, not long after the quality of her dance moves on an official trip to Kenya had been criticised, she hit back by strutting onto the stage to Dancing Queen.

Disappointingly May today is wearing an uncontroversial turquoise cotton dress, not the £995 chocolate-coloured Amanda Wakeley leather trousers she wore the last time she was interviewed for The Sunday Times Magazine in 2016. “All those comments about ‘How does she spend so much on leather trousers?’ — they were lent to me for the shoot! It only goes to show how sometimes women are judged in different ways from men.”

She is used to the slings and arrows. At a crucial Tory party conference in Manchester in October 2017 she had a coughing fit as letters from the slogan behind her (“Building a country that works for everyone”) fell slowly from the wall, and was interrupted by a prankster waving a P45. A year on, in Birmingham, not long after the quality of her dance moves on an official trip to Kenya had been criticised, she hit back by strutting onto the stage to Dancing Queen.

One image that will for ever be associated with May’s premiership is the Grenfell tower block in west London engulfed in flames. At 12.54am on June 14, 2017, the fire brigade was called to the blaze in Kensington. Within half an hour the flames of the burning tower lit up the night sky. Seventy-two people died. May was still exhausted in the aftermath of the election six days before. “I remember the next morning standing with private secretaries in the outer office just looking at the television screen,” she says. “The building was still burning. You almost couldn’t comprehend that this had actually happened.”

She was criticised for failing to meet victims during her first visit to the site, but returned to Grenfell to meet them privately in the days and months afterwards. “I think it’s so important because often what happens is you get an event like that, a tragedy like that, and politicians turn up on day one, in my case day two, and when the photos are taken and so forth, they go away and nothing more is heard from them.”

Grenfell touched a nerve with May because, she says, it appeared to be the physical manifestation of many of the “burning injustices” she had vowed to correct during her first speech as prime minister. The abuse of power here was the “belittling of a group of people because they happened to live in homes owned in part by the state. Those people living there felt they’d been beating their head against the brick wall of authority for many years in regards safety of the building.”

May had pledged to make Britain a country that “works not for a privileged few, but for every one of us”. This included plans to tackle the lack of affordable housing, fixing broken markets to help with the cost of living and stamping out racial and class disparities. “I think there were important things that I was able to do that addressed some of the specific social injustices. Setting up the Race Disparity Unit [which collects, analyses and publishes government data on the experiences of people from different ethnic backgrounds], for example, and recognising that a significant part of our population have often had a very different experience of living in the UK from the rest of us.”

As part of my trip to Maidenhead I join May on a visit to Thames Hospice. She is a frequent visitor to the bright, airy building overlooking a sailing lake, and was there when the Queen opened it in July last year — one of her last public events before she died in September.

It is impossible to miss the broad smile breaking across the face of Aaron Sennick, a 20-year-old with complex medical conditions, when he sees May. At one point he gushes: “Thank you for everything you have done for this country.” May looks more comfortable sitting beside Aaron’s bedside than she ever did at the dispatch box.

Aaron regales her with stories of his voluntary work and his burgeoning social media career. In return May tells him she is a technophobe and has only in the past few months given up her beloved BlackBerry and switched to an iPhone. He asks about her favourite memory as prime minister. May reveals it was in 2018 when she met the British diving team who had rescued a young football team from a cave in Thailand. She tells Aaron that she often found the most special moments were when ordinary people were recognised and celebrated for doing extraordinary things.

She is planning to fight the next election but is happy away from the front benches. “I don’t think it’s a good idea for prime ministers to go back,” she says. “I had 13 years in opposition — 12 of those on the front bench and then nine years on the front bench in government. So actually it has been rather nice to go back to the back benches and to do the job of being a constituency MP.”

After she left Downing Street, her husband, Philip, was awarded a knighthood in recognition of his political service. He was nominated by Johnson. Although his title means that his wife is now Lady May, she does not use it. May remains tight-lipped on whether this is because she is waiting for a peerage of her own.

“I think there is a need for PMs to think very carefully about the numbers that they’re putting into the Lords,” she says — the closest she gets to possible criticism of Johnson, who created 87 new peers during his tenure as prime minister (and awarded 7 more in his resignation honours), compared with May’s 43. “I actively tried to ensure that I restricted my list throughout my time as PM,” she says. Liz Truss’s list, after her 49-day premiership, is imminent.

Despite Truss crashing the economy, does May think Rishi Sunak can deliver on his promises and win the next election? “What people want to see is a prime minister — which they are seeing in Rishi — who has understood issues that matter to them and is putting in place what he believes will deliver on those issues,” she says. “We all know in politics that other things happen that can knock you off course, but I think what people want to see is that you are actively doing your best to deliver.”

May says she is “very pleased” that Sunak has not yet swayed from the 2050 net zero target she introduced, insisting that net zero is “the most important economic opportunity of the 21st century”. She adds: “Lots of people talk about the costs but don’t talk about what would net off those costs in terms of positives for the economy, for jobs, for people and so forth. There is a road in Maidenhead that is social housing that recycles rainwater — it has ferns on the roof to capture the rainwater better and so forth. It has all sorts of energy-efficient elements and the people who live there have seen their energy bills go down significantly. So I always say that what’s good for the planet can be good for your pocket.”

She says the argument will not be made by “lecturing people”. “We won’t achieve net zero if all we do is tell people you can’t fly, you can’t drive, you can’t eat meat. Actually, what we’ve got to do is say, you can play your role, your part in a number of different ways on a day-to-day basis. Government must play its part and business must play its part as well.” She adds: “If you look at everything that’s coming out of the Climate Change Committee and so forth, we really do have to address this issue. You can’t get to 2048 and say, Ooh right, we’ve got a target in two years’ time, let’s do this because that would be even costlier.”

May is less supportive of Sunak’s plans to remove the protections for victims of slavery who enter Britain illegally, and she defied a three-line whip after a debate on the issue in July. “My key concern is around modern slavery,” she says. “Because if we’re going to stop it we need to break the business model. That means catching perpetrators. To catch perpetrators you need victims to be willing to come forward, identify themselves and give evidence and I worry that what’s now in the Illegal Migration Act, and indeed the Nationality and Borders Act, together will lead to a situation where fewer victims will come forward.” She is preparing to launch a global commission on modern slavery, made up of CEOs, former world leaders, academics and civil society leaders. “There’s a sort of unfortunate thing in politics that politicians will often focus on one big thing at one point and then something else happens and the energy goes out of the first thing,” she says.

However, May will combine her new role with being a backbench MP. Even as prime minister she would go knocking on doors as often as she could in her constituency. Why? “You should never forget that even if you get to the very top job you’re only there because you have been elected as an MP.”

In her book, in one of the few passages to mention Johnson by name, she writes: “Another source of anger was the perception that somehow MPs were able to get away with breaking the sort of rules which they would expect everyone else to follow. This was to have another manifestation under Boris Johnson’s premiership, when those in 10 Downing Street and elsewhere in Whitehall were found to have broken Covid pandemic lockdown rules. The idea that there has been one rule for the public and another for MPs provokes public cynicism and leads increasingly to the charge of hypocrisy. In other words, why should we do what you say when you don’t do it yourself? Above all, it shatters any sense that MPs are leaders in society. Yet I still believe we have a responsibility to try to show such leadership. It may be harder in today’s world, but that doesn’t mean we shouldn’t try.”

May believes that in order to restore integrity to politics, there needs to be an understanding that being a politician is a position of public service rather than power. “What you fundamentally need is for MPs not to think that they’re a species apart simply because they’ve been elected,” she says. “It’s that sense that, for some MPs, they are in a position of power because they’ve been elected, that they’re special, that they are a breed set apart. I think we have to change that thinking because, basically, being an MP is a job.”

The Abuse of Power by Theresa May (Headline £25). Read an exclusive extract in The Times tomorrow.

[1cindyschineselitblog]

Reflections on a Year of Reading Chinese Literature

Titles Read

The Corpse Walker by Liao Yiwu

Peony in Love by Lisa See

Everything I Never Told You by Celeste Ng

Strange Beasts of China by Yan Ge

Out of the three countries that I had chosen, the last one was on a whim: China. At first, I didn’t know what to expect because I didn’t know much about China other than its conservative traditions and its one-birth rule. Obviously, I haven’t read every book, but I think I’m allowed to say that a lot of the historical fiction books that involve romance are where one of the main love interests is a ghost. Maybe it’s just me, but that’s a common theme I’ve seen so far. Also, a lot of Chinese books have the most gut-wrenching plot twists, it makes me so… frustrated. But I learned that foot binding is very important in China’s history: having small feet; people used to powder their feet too? For the most part, the families in these books were conservative and didn’t really let the girls interact with boys. This was more of a burden than anything because the girls ended up dying due to naivety. The main element that I saw between the four books were broken families. This could either mean a family is broken internally or that a family would break. Not only that but misunderstandings could be more detrimental than what you see on the surface.

From Liao Yiwu’s nonfiction book The Corpse Walker: it’s common knowledge that the government can become corrupt under certain individuals. But the fact that one person can change the attitude of so many people just by saying a few words is crazy. Chairman Mao’s reign was just one huge dictatorship that made peasants feel as if they had power. Power can turn a “good person” into a hungry and ruthless beast. It didn’t matter if you had done well for a person. As long as one was poor and the other was rich, the poor would publicly beat and humiliate the other party.

Lisa See’s historical fiction book Peony in Love: proves that curiosity killed a cat, but that ignorance isn’t always bliss. Peony, the main character, is a naive girl who is sheltered so much to the point that she knows basically nothing about boys, the outside world, or even being a “normal person.”  Protective nature is good, but this type of parental behavior needs to be limited. The book proves that the most protective parents create the most rebellious children.

Celeste Ng’s novel Everything I Never Told You: in addition to the theme of child rebellion, Lydia is a prime example of the consequences of protective parents. But her parents were protective of her image. She was the golden child, the child who didn’t say no because she wanted to make her dad happy and didn’t want her mother to leave again. A family can only look so perfect on the outside until you really get to talk to the kids. Some parents don’t realize their impact on their kids even if it’s a small thing. 

Yan Ge’s contemporary fantasy book Strange Beasts of China: is one that I haven’t finished yet. But something that people don’t understand is that “just because you know someone, doesn’t mean you know all of them.” This may seem like common sense, but it’s really not. Even if you have a best friend or someone you’re super close to. There is no person in the entire world that will know you in and out. 

Before, I used to romanticize the idea of living in the old days. But I probably won’t survive with all the feet binding and the number of conservative views. I’d probably be accused of being possessed by a demon or something. What surprised me is that when I read, I often connect its history with something in our modern time. For example, foot binding and powdering them was seen as something for the husbands because they were pleased with small feet. It was normal then, but now it’s seen as weird so I’m intrigued about why it changed. I’ve also learned that I’ve very gullible when it comes to reading. I knew that there were plot twists, but I never saw them coming. Now I understand how important word choice is and how it creates a different type of scene to mislead you so that plot twists are more dramatic. 

[valiantponds]

[ID: Image 1: A reddit post in r/relationship_advice, by u/ThrowRA62459182.

Title: “My (25F) boyfriend's (26M) sister is weirdly obsessed with him, he's taking her on holiday and I don't know how to convince him it is super weird?”

Post: “I have been dating my boyfriend "Mike" for just under 18 months. Our relationship has become really serious, we have even started to discuss things like marriage, children, etc. We moved from England to Wales about 6 months ago because I got a job opportunity that required us to relocate. He was able to covert to working from home so has stayed employed by his old company.

We now live about 70 miles away from our hometown. Because it's so far we rarely visit home, maybe once every 6 weeks or so. Whenever we visit we stay with Mike's parents and every time we go his sister is incredibly obsessed with Mike and won't leave him alone. It's to the point where it's really weird and almost like she has some weird romantic feelings for him. I've brought this up to Mike and he says I'm being crazy, but l'm not. For example, she will snuggle up to him on sofa, so I have to sit somewhere else. She will ask for him to take her shopping to places that I don't like. She'll make him take her to restaurants and they'll have fancy meals together. It is SO weird how she treats him like a boyfriend.

They have a holiday to Spain booked for this summer holiday to the town where Mike grew up, they booked this before we were dating. But it is just them two going and it makes me feel extremely uncomfortable. I first asked for him to change the booking so I could come along as well, I said I would pay for the extra obviously. He said he contacted the travel agents but they weren't able to change the bookings anymore and that they couldn't book a separate package for me because the hotel was booked up.

Yesterday, I told him I think it is really weird that he wants to spend two weeks alone with her in a foreign country and when I said this to him he blew up at me and kicked me out the house. Like genuinely kicked me out the house for just questioning him about this which has made me feel it's even more weird than I thought. We ended up having a huge argument, like the biggest we've ever had. And now I am considering booking a separate hotel nearby the one they're staying at just so I can keep an eye on her. I have been texting him and ringing him and he hasn't answered or responded to me at all.

I don't understand how he doesn't see this is weird, especially considering how obsessed she is with him as I mentioned earlier. It just makes me feel sick and I don't know what to do. How do I express to him that this is not normal? How do I show him there is something weird about how his sister treats him?”

Image 2: Under the read-more on this tumblr post is another screenshot, this time of comments under the original reddit post.

helendestroy asked, “how old is the sister?”

OP responded, “She's nine, but will be ten this year.”

This response is at 915 downvotes. End ID]

[awed-frog]

Hey! uh, I've seen your reblog about HP, and I kinda wanted your opinion on this post, if you don't mind of course. mischief-and-maryment*tumblr*com/post/618786127710650368/hey-do-you-think-you-could-expand-a-bit-on

Hello! This may be a snappy answer because I had a shitty day and I’m just fed up with tumblr nonsense - apologies for that. 

If you want my opinion: I don’t agree with any of it, and I think it’s a weird, obsessive, self-flagellating take for someone whose entire online life seems to consist of Harry Potter gifs, crack and plot bunnies.

Plus, I think it’s fairly ironic to see people writing pages and pages of earnest rants about ‘problematic writers’ while typing on their computers (a result of slave and child labour), ordering their Funko dolls online (Amazon workers are literally dropping dead right now), playing with glitter slime or using make-up (again, slave and child labour), not to mention mindlessly munching on stuff that couldn’t exist without all-powerful corporations, exploited migrants, illegal logging, animal abuse, and so much oil and plastic and dangerous chemicals even coming up with an estimate in metric tons is definitely beyond me. 

Like for fuck’s sake. JKR is not Hitler. Her crime was writing a book based on stuff she knew - the world she grew up in and the subjects she studied in uni - according to the internet Puritans, that’s exactly what you’re supposed to do, isn’t it? God forbid you ‘claim someone else’s story’, after all. And yeah, sure, there’s some weird things in those books (there’s weird stuff everywhere), but that’s partly because they’re based on European folklore and mythology? You know, the kind of stuff that’s rooted in local biases, prejudice and fears? Goblins are problematic. Yay. Guess what: a lot of other stuff is problematic. In fact, every single aspect of folklore and mythology is problematic. 

(Centaurs are problematic. They’re literally based on the nomadic tribes who invaded Greece back in Fuckever BC, and look at them: drunkards and rapists featuring the occasional WiseMan™. JKR’s copied this classical portrait of centaurs down to a tee, and yet I never heard anyone complain about how the whole concept is deeply racist and "If 👏 you’re 👏 not 👏 from 👏 Central 👏 Asia 👏 you 👏 can’t 👏 say 👏 cent*ur”, and #CoconutFirenze and maybe you know, if you really think about it the whole Umbridge thing is a textbook example of the white man’s fear of non-white men and their ‘savage’, out of control sexual urges.) 

Bottom line is, people are not perfect. Part of growing up is learning to walk the perfectly walkable line between “I understand this work reflects the world of its author, who was human and therefore flawed” and “That doesn’t prevent me from finding this work meaningful, interesting, moving and/or recognizing it’s a masterpiece that had a huge influence on other artists and is still relevant today, so I’m happy to learn more about it”. 

Apparently we now live in a world where that is too much work for some - they’re entitled to their own opinion, but I want to hope they’re just a very loud minority.

[dylanobrienisbatman]

The main problem with the whole mal vs the darkling thing in regards to being possessive (or really when it comes to any of their traits) is the fact that throughout, the darkling is clearly framed as the villain and his actions reflect that, whereas Mal as supposed to be the good guy and best romantic partner for Alina, and yet he has all these awful character traits and tendencies. So its less about how awful the Bad Guy is (since he's supposed to be), and more about how awful the person that we're supposed to believe is the best option for Alina is. I don't ship either, just my two cents.

Okay well... two things. First, your comment about "its less about how awful the bad guy is, since he's supposed to be", takes every comment I've made about Darkles out of context, which seems fitting since everything Darklina's spout about Mal is out of context. Him being the Bad Guy is fine, and if you like him AS A VILLAIN, and acknowledge all the bad shit he does, then my posts aren't for you. I think he's a very interesting villain, and a lot of the terrible shit he does that I have to keep making posts about make him a good villain, the problem is when the terrible shit the "Bad Guy" does is romanticized and viewed as the reasons why Alina SHOULD have picked him. So, don't assume everyone gets that "hes supposed to be awful". The point my post was making is that Darklina's love to call Mal possessive, but then turn around and act like Darkles literally enslaving her in somehow sexy and romantic. It's fucking not, and it's transparent as hell that y'all romanticize and sexualize the actually possessive character, and then project false character traits onto Mal. It's so transparent, it's almost funny.

But, more importantly, to your second, very wrong point, I wonder how much of the narrative about Mal having "awful character traits and tendencies" is actually a commentary on Mal as a character, or is it just Darklina's lying about things Mal has done and everyone accepting that misinterpretation as canon. Because, if were making a list...

Fuck boy - False! Mal was not a fuck boy! He was an attractive teenager who hooked up with consenting girls his age when he could, and he was not in a relationship during that time. Alina had never told him how she felt, so he is not beholden to her. (Also, nobody seems to have an issue with the fact that Darkles hooked up with Zoya in the show, that doesn't make HIM a fuckboy... interesting) (also also, nobody seems to discuss Darkles literally sexually assaulting Alina, and lying and manipulating her to get her to be physically intimate with him so he can use her... double interesting).

Slut Shames Alina - FALSE! The ever favourite callout line from Darklina's "He's all over you" isn't him slut shaming her. First, he has no idea what their relationship is like at that point, but more importantly, he is making an observation of her status in the little palace and how she has become his tool. He has dressed her up in his colors, made her put on a show for his benefit, and has created a situation where Alina appears to be his. Mal is noting that after months of searching for her, believing she was being hurt, tortured, or worse, when he arrives to save her, she looks like the Darkling's pet. (and, even if he WAS angry because he perceived them to be romantically involved, boy just spent months fighting for his life, lost multiple friends, and almost died to find her, all while coming to the realisation that he was in love with her, and then he shows up, after not hearing from her for months... I'd be pissed as hell too.) Important Note: He even acknowledges that what he said was wrong and tries to apologise, before Alina tells him that he was right. (Shadow and Bone, pg. 286). He also then apologizes, completely unprompted, for what he said. (Shadow and Bone, pg. 297).

Fat Shames Alina - False! This one is particularly laughable to me, because its one of the Darklina arguments that falls apart the second you actually read the scene. They are running for their lives in the forest, and Mal has to hunt and gather to feed them. He is noting that Alina's appetite has increased since he last saw her, and he makes a joke (ya know, how you do with friends) about how it would be easier to keep her fed if she still had her more meager appetite from before. He makes no comment on her weight, or her size, and he is not actually commenting on her appetite in a negative way, he is just acknowledging that it's a lot more work for him now that she eats more. Right before he says the line, the quote even proves that he isn't shaming her or thinking badly of her: "With a bemused expression, he watched as I gobbled down my portion and then sighed, still hungry". He is noting a change in her, and complaining that its made more work for him. If you think thats the same as fat shaming, well... thats a you problem.

Hates Alina's Powers - FALSE!!!! How to begin... do we talk about it was Mal's idea to hunt the stag in S&B, because he knew she needed it to be more powerful so she could stop the darkling? Do we talk about how he vowed to find the firebird for her, even though he was terrified of what all that power would do to her? Do we talk about how he literally died so she could achieve the power she needed to save the world? Or maybe we could talk about how he believed in her power more than anyone else, like when everyone was making bets about her abilities with the Cut and he knew she'd go further and better than anyone else expected her too, or when he tells her that he was never afraid of her powers, only what seeking all that power would do to her (which is literally the theme of the books, that power corrupts and seeking unmatched power can destroy you)? Mal being afraid of what is going to happen to Alina, being protective of her and worrying over her, is not the same as him hating her powers. He exists to help remind Alina of the themes of the story, and to guide her into maintaining her humanity.

Abusive - ... Do I even need to explain this one? Must I deign an explanation as to why this favourite Darklina lie is so fucking stupid, and also totally hypocrisy? No? Because we all know Darkles is actually the abusive one and they're trying to project their own shit onto Mal to further their abuse apologist agenda? Cool. Moving on.

Possessive of Alina - False! Throughout the entire series, Mal is quite literally the opposite of possessive, but yall just cant read. Not only does he quite literally step out of the way and allow Nikolai to court Alina without argument, which is the most direct example of him not being possessive, he also spends two full books believing, and repeatedly saying over and over and over, that they can't be together because he is not good enough for her. Mal believes, fully, that Alina deserves more than him, better than him, because he's just a tracker and a soldier, just a regular man with nothing to offer her but his love and his protection, and she is a Saint and should be a Queen. Possessiveness is the wish to own and control someone, it is literally the opposite of Mal believing that he's not good enough and doing everything he can to ensure that Alina achieves everything and gets everything he believes she is owed. A possessive character would not tell her to tell him to leave because he has nothing he can offer her, no title or land or country or crown. A possessive character would not promise to be the blade in her hand, because he believed he had nothing but the blood he could spill to offer her.

Angry - True! Yeah, omg, you caught us, Mal is ANGRY! Heaven forbid a teenager who is traumatized beyond belief and has to give up everything in his life, his position in the military (he deserted for her), his friends and the job he loved (Mikhail and Dubrov died for him, and he can't be a tracker in the army... because he deserted... for Alina), and, most importantly, he has to give up Alina (she should be Queen, he believes, and he has to give up the future he imagined with the girl he loves, who he was pretty sure loved him back, because she's a saint and queen and he's just a man), and more, is ANGRY. He has to be the one to find the amplifiers that he knows will end up hurting her, because thats what she needs to save the world. He has to sit by while Nikolai treats him like the dirt on his shoe and tries to woo Alina for his own personal gain (because Nikoalai did not love Alina. Maybe he came to care for her, but he proposed and spent all of S&S trying to get her to marry him when it was obvious they were not in love. He straight up says its so that the next King of Ravka can be married to the Sun Summoner. It's a power grab.) and he can't do anything about it. So yeah, Mal is angry. And yeah, sometimes he's even angry at Alina, just like sometimes she's angry at him. But they always find their way back, always apologize and try to be better for each other, and if you think anger is a toxic trait, and not simply a natural human emotion, might I suggest touching some fucking grass?

Idk why you thought I'd stand for Mal slander on my blog, cuz I will not. So, I'm gonna stop there, because I have shit to do today, but I really do wonder how much of Mal's 'toxic' or 'terrible' traits, that make him such a 'bad' love interest for Alina, really comes from Darklina's who refuse to actually read the text critically at all, and instead take everything he does and says out of context to further their agenda that Alina should have ended up as the Darkling's fucking slave forever, because thats the "girl power feminist" ending somehow. Mal supports her, loves her, sacrifices for her at every turn, and does everything he can do, to the point of literally dying for her, to ensure that she can defeat Darkles and save the world. He protects her, and when they end up happy and safe together on the orphange that they've rebuilt to help the children that were victims of Darkles war and genocide, he spends his days bringing her tea and cakes and flowers, kissing her silly under the stairs in the view of all the teachers, and calling her names like beauty, beloved, cherished, my heart for the rest of their ordinary life together, if love can ever be called that.

[treybriggsthewriter]

This makes me nervous, but I’m going to post it. I’m going to try my best to achieve my goals. I’ve put in a ton of work already, so I’m looking for additional help. 

From the campaign:

My name is Trey Briggs, and I'm a black woman who writes paranormal horror, speculative fiction, and other types of fiction. You can find my stories at MaybeTrey , Astrid the Devil , and on Instagram , Medium , and Wattpad .

My stories are aimed at black people who want to read dark stories that focus on original black characters that are complex and interesting. I genuinely believe Black audiences deserve a variety of genres to delve into, and I want to introduce them to paranormal horror, dark romance, and fantasy that they haven't gotten enough of in the past. I also believe that this can be done across multiple mediums, and I spend my money with black creative professionals to make these experiences extend beyond my words. For the last two years, I've run my stories on sites and Instagram to great reception. I like to craft complex experiences that offer looks at character backgrounds, side and backstories, full websites for each title, and more. I also provide encyclopedias, maps, audio journals, and other ways to get into each world. During these last few years, I've run into a lot of walls, jumped a lot of hurdles, and tried my best. I've worked with amazing black artists, voice actors, and actresses, musicians, designers, and more. I trust my ability to run a project, especially when it comes to planning and finding talent. My overall goal is to run a team of black creatives that crafts novels, graphic novels, audio experiences, and animated series for a dedicated audience.

Why I Need Help Long story short: I have the skill, I have the marketing/website building/business experience, and I have the drive. There's a lot I can do on my own, but there's also a lot that gets left behind because I don't have the money I need to proceed at a steady pace. I need help with funding so I can focus, hire the right people, and craft these stories the way they deserve to be crafted. I have thus far spent over $60,000 of my own money on my projects over the past two years - the writing and site-building are easy for me; the rest has to be hired out. I have art, site costs for hosting, domains, templates, specific plugins, and maintenance, audio (and vocal artists to pay), musical, and editing costs. I'm by no means rich or even particularly financially stable. I have taken on tons of extra clients for my digital marketing business, transcribed hundreds of hours of audio for dirt cheap, and taken out personal loans. I even worked a second full-time job along with my full-time business last year to afford to produce the content I love. It's starting to take a toll on my mental health. I plan on continuing to fund these projects out of pocket (and finding ways to do so), but having financial help, however big or small, would allow me to move a lot faster and with less stress. It would let me flesh out ideas and concepts that I have had to scrap because I can only physically handle so much extra work. I run a full-time marketing business from home, homeschool my autistic 10-year-old, and generally have a busy life. Some of the strain is taking a toll on me, and I don't want to give up. Having some financial backing could allow me to drop a client or two after a few months and focus on the work I love to do.

How You Can Help I mainly need a start—a sort of base. I want to emphasize that I plan to continue to provide the main bulk of funding for my projects. I know my goals are ambitious, and I know each step will take time and money. I welcome any help to make the process smoother and to get around the initial hurdles. I'd like to have ebooks and novels offered on my site by the end of the year (along with the free serials and stories). Funding means that I can broaden the projects, include more free aspects to my sites, and secure direct financing through sales of ebooks and audiobooks sooner. It also means that I can offer MORE stories, whether they are online only or fully fleshed out novels and sites. I am swamped with trying to work enough to cover all my bills and creative projects, so I lose a lot of time I could spend plotting and writing. If I have better funding, I can get my stories out quicker (and with fewer mistakes).

The Initial Stories Let's talk about my stories! If you're familiar with my work already, you can skip to the next section. My main story site is Maybe Trey . Currently, I have two big titles and a bunch of smaller ones that I am seeking help with funding: Astrid the Devil

Astrid the Devil is the complicated story of a girl who inherits not only her family's features and DNA, but their fears, struggles, and fights. It's the story of a condition called Devil Syndrome, the women who suffer it, and the monsters that devour them. It's the story of the fight to save the people you love at the expense of innocent lives. At its core, Astrid the Devil is the story of a woman who inherits the chaos of three generations before her. It's a look at what is truly passed down to our children, and how they're left to fight our battles in the aftermath of our failures. It's the tale of an indescribable monster and the women who struggle to defeat it. It's a journey into how their every decision could save or destroy an entire world. Astrid the Devil is the story of Astrid Snow, but her story can't be told without the story of the women before her.

Vicious: On MaybeTrey  and The Vicious site (in progress)

Somewhere, a war is brewing.  That's the only thing that's for sure to Junnie Gorton, a young horned girl suffering from a debilitating disease called Horn Rot. She typically dealt with her low survival rate and abnormally large horns by escaping the world with her best friend, Lewish. Now she's forced to figure out which side is which, save her entire species, and find out the truth behind the sudden uprising in her home. Horn Rot, a highly contagious and violent disease spreading through horned people, is causing mass amounts of madness and death. Normal horns grow in ways that will pierce, suffocate, and maim their owners, and the only one who can stop it is Junnie's mother, Lyria. As Lyria falls deeper and deeper into an anti-social revolt, the country reels. While Junnie broods, her entire species must prepare for mass extinction. Her brother plots with a group of people with less than good intentions and Lewish is quieter than usual. In a civilization brought up on extreme violence and competition, Junnie and Lewish try their best not to get swallowed by their culture, their lives, or their horns.

Bunni and Bosque :

Bunni lives. Bosque dies. We all know how this story starts. Bunni is obsessed with destruction and death. She comes from the healthiest Horned family in her country. She's from the oldest, purest bloodline in the world. And she's bored with it. Bunni spends most of her time trying to escape her duties as a pureblood. She wants things dirty, messy, foul, inconsistent. Having parents that are willing to kill to keep their bloodline pure is annoying. Knowing that she'll live a long, full life, produce more perfect children, and die unscathed is agonizing. Bunni wants something to mourn. We all know how this story ends. Bosque is destined to die an agonizing death, alone on his family's land. He's watched everyone he loved and grew up with perish. Sometimes it was because of their disease. Sometimes it was because of the malice and hatred of others. While he's absolutely withdrawn and satisfied with his life, Bosque has never had a chance to live it. He spends his days basking in the sun, bathing in wood baths, and contemplating the end. Bosque isn't interested in joining the rest of the world. He'd rather die out, alone, where his family belonged. Bosque wants to go peacefully. But neither expected to meet each other one day in a supermarket. Neither expected to fall in love, lust, and every vicious and dirty thing between. Neither expected to be so right for each other, all while being wrong for everyone else. You know the end of this story. Bunni lives, Bosque dies. But maybe something will change.

My smaller titles, Bunni and Bosque /Aite and Jude, can be found at Maybe Trey .

The Business Plan

The initial phase of my business plan is to get the sites populated with ebooks and audiobooks for sale. I also have prints that can be sold. Right now, I am in the audience-building phase while I save up for editing the full novels. 

In terms of an actual business with which to publish the stories, I already have a registered publication company in Illinois: Wolfless Studios LLC. I took this step earlier this year with plans to self-publish Astrid and Vicious. So that is paid for and done.

I have also gotten initial editing done on the first six chapters of Astrid, though it will need to be edited from the beginning again once everything is said and done. I've spent over $1000 on that so far, and it would go a lot faster if I didn't need to save up to edit each chapter.

Astrid the Devil is fully plotted, outlined, and only needs the last three chapters. Bunni and Bosque and Vicious are newer, but plotted and already deep into character development (all being shared across social and Wattpad for audience growth). Aite and Jude and other shorts are plotted, and three other unshared stories are plotted and at the editing phase.

Other costs and ways I would use the funding (I would still put in my own money and do as much on my own as possible):

Initial $30K

$6000 - $7000 Line and Copy edits for Astrid (currently at 250000+ words/expecting over 300000 at $0.02 rate)

$6000 - $7000 Line and Copy Edits for Vicious

$3000 - $4000 Line and Copy Edits for Bunni and Bosque

ISBN Purchases (Separate ISBN for each format for each book) - https://www.myidentifiers.com/identify-protect-your-book/barcode

Covers for Astrid/Vicious/B&B Print Versions

Site Hosting Costs and Maintenance for 2 Years

Site completion for all stories

Initial store and app development

40K - Marketing and Graphic Novels

Social, Print, and Web ads

Email Marketing Campaigns 

Booths at Decatur Book Festival (depending on COVID)

Social ads and promos

50 to 60 pages

First two chapters offered as free promo with email sign-ups

Audio journals for each character

Situational audio journals

Encyclopedia for Astrid (finishing up)/Vicious

65K - Hires and Next Phases

Ability to hire a Full-Time Editor 

Audio Series for each (professionally done)

Vicious Graphic Novel

Additional Title Added

Short animations for both Vicious and Astrid (with plans to fund more with book sales)

Fleshed out Story Sections (Novellas for each character of each series)

Short comic series with Astrid and Vicious side characters

Possible to plan out monthly subscription service with new stories and 'story package' deliveries

75K -

Astrid the Devil Graphic Novel

Vicious Graphic Novel

Astrid the Devil Animated Short

Ability to hire part-time Web Developer

Additional bigger title

Anything Over - I ascend into pure light. And also, I can add titles, cover more mediums, and eventually expand my publishing to other black creatives.

From there, I should be able to handle the funding via sales of books, comics, audio, and more. Again, I will always offer mostly free content across the sites.

I believe in proof of concept, and I have diehard fans on my social platforms. With no outside funding, I've been able to a lot on my own. I'd love to expand my business into one that does the same for other black authors, artists, voice actors, and animators somewhere down the line. 

Thank you so much for your consideration. I appreciate all my readers, present and future, and I appreciate any help!

See incentives and more on the actual campaign: https://www.gofundme.com/f/help-trey-publish-black-paranormal-horror-stories

Thank you so much!

[creativeashproductions]

A Distant Dream IV // Luke Patterson

Summary: In 1994 seventeen year old Luke Patterson had once again tried to ask out the girl that held his heart. With the belief he would see the younger Mercer girl the next morning he decides to wait to confess his feelings. Only to have soft music bewitched the reader into an antique wardrobe with lots of history

Warnings: Swearing, grief, mourning a relationship, sadness, angst, war/death, mention of strict parents, and fluff

Words: 3.1

A/N: This is a disclaimer: just because the reader and Luke start to get along better and have a date does NOT mean she isn’t grieving her relationship. Whether the love faded or not with Peter that is still a large part of who she was/is or don’t expect her and Luke to fall into a relationship immediately.

TO BE TAGGED SEND AN INBOX/ASK PLEASE!

Masterlist

The phantoms had disbanded for the night, leaving Julie alone in her room surrounded by books and Flynn. You’d snuck down to the basement as you had since you arrived in 2020 from a different world. The wardrobe that quite literally changed your life was in the back corner, unassuming for the young girl.

Your e/c eyes pinned to the antique wooden furniture that had traveled from England to America as if fate had guided it. No matter how long time went by you’d never been able to touch the wardrobe, let alone touch remotely close. A part of you feared finding if you could return to Narnia or not.

It was something you kept private from the new people helping you to assimilate back into a life on Earth. The boys often refused to leave you for very long after the traumatic disappearance, even when you urged for space. It had almost been as tricky as negotiating peace with a land boiling with civil unrest.

Alex had taken to holding your hand as you slept for peace in both him and you; he’d noticed the state of sleep you endured. It was fitful and often filled with memories in the form of nightmares. The one from last night reared its head once more.

An intake of breath as you pulled your fingers closed to your cheek. Eyes on the movement before you released the bow. The arrow sailed true into the unsuspecting enemy with a faint whistle as it travelled.

The body dropped, one of many of the battles you had attended since defeating the White Witch. A life was still a life, and taking one was incredibly difficult. You saw it in the eyes of Peter, heard it in Susan’s strained voice, saw it in the way Edmund carried himself, but the most heartbreaking was the feeling of Lucy’s tense shoulders in certain moments.

Edmund and Lucy had been children when the White Witch had reigned and fought. Lucy had been only nine years old when her foot first touched Narnian snow. At that tender age, she’d watched the evil of the world up close. Edmund not that incredibly older. The youngest Pevensie had watched her brother take his last breath. Felt the trauma of Edmund’s gasping as the cordial bled one life-giving drop of liquid.

“I’d like to say it gets better, but it truly doesn’t, Your Majesty.” General Oreius’ announced from his station beside you. It was a lull in the tension building as people got ready for the enemies on the horizon.

Oreius’ addressed you but kept his gaze on the approaching army from an enemy land; the General was gifted in multitasking. He’d stopped to give you a little peace in only the way he knew how to.

“Thank you, Oreius.” You informed the General as he took off into the land ahead, leaving you to hold off the enemy with arrows. The short lapse is a game-changer for you as you run into battle.

Last night’s dream had been a reprieve from the dreams of Peter staring sadly at you curled around Luke. It hadn’t happened, of course, but that didn’t dim the bonfire of emotions you felt for the hazel-eyed guitarist.

You couldn’t quite figure out if you loved Peter the way a wife should love their husband. It wasn’t solely Peter that made you come to the wardrobe frequently. It had to do with the family that became yours when your parents had been shitty.

“Hey.” Julie spoke, stepping up to your side. The first person to have found you in the basement where you had an entirely different life.

“Hi.” You murmured, breaking your stare to meet the lovely teenager who had taken your brother and friends into her home. Even if it hadn’t been a smooth start, the band had grown infinitely closer.

“Do you think you’ll ever go back?” Julie softly questioned with soft brown eyes taking in the action you’d known for years. Your fingers brushed a strand of her gorgeous coil hair behind her ear with a gentleness you’d done so with Susan and Lucy.

Julie watched as your eyes saddened, “I don’t know. Mere seconds before I stumbled out of the wardrobe into your home, I was an adult. I had been in my early ’30s reigning beside my husband, and then I was the same sixteen-year-old girl breaking the chains of the Mercer name.”

“You feel guilty you left Alex, Luke and Reggie without answers, but you feel like you’re betraying your new family?” Julie questioned, shifting on her sneakers to stare at the emotional mask you’d developed in Narnia.

“Something like that.” You simply replied, casting one more look at the wardrobe in your haste to leave the basement.

Julie waited until you had left before she opened the wardrobe with a loud creak. Her hands brushed material hanging before her hand met a solid surface. Her face dropped at the physical evidence that Narnia couldn’t be reached from this wardrobe again.

Julie adored you, but she wanted to know how true happiness looked on your pretty features. Even if she had to give up you just so you could be happy, it was worth it, so when you left the basement each visit, she’d check the wardrobe.

It always failed. Not a speck of snow or a call of your royal title. Had Julie not seen you tumble out of the wardrobe, she’d have never believed the story.

“One day.” Julie murmured to the silent wardrobe.

Your foot barely passed the threshold of your attic space when your ’90s friends dropped unceremoniously on the floor. Each wearing a big grin that matched the fake one you plastered on.

“Where’d you go this time?”

“Top of the Hollywood sign.” Reggie piped up, skipping over to distribute a cheesy tourist keychain of the sign. Had it been someone else than Reggie, you would have joked about it, but you never could with the sweet puppy like teenager.

“Thank you.” You told the boy who had taken to grabbing little souvenirs for you. You couldn’t remember when he’d sat beside you, but he’d softly informed you how much he’d missed you. 

In the year following your disappearance, Reggie had built up a collection of trinkets he thought you’d love; he was the one with the most optimism. Even if he believed you’d met an end, that little spark of hope never died. He wouldn’t be Reggie Peters if the hope wasn’t there.

“I wish I knew if my parents kept that box.” Reggie sighed, referring to the trinkets he had collected the year you’d gone missing. You merely squeezed his shoulder in response before catching gazes with Luke.

“Flynn still here?” Alex questioned, pushing himself to sit on the box bench underneath the window. He’d proudly chosen the wear one of the t-shirts Flynn had personalized for the band.

You shrugged, “Dunno. Julie found me.”

Reggie and Luke were oblivious, but Alex knew to the core of his soul where you tended to spend alone time. Alex would see how you’d return with that ache in your eyes more prominent, and your lips quirked down just enough for him to tell. He saw the guilt when you looked at Luke, the way you thumbed your ring.

“Do you want to hang out? Maybe to use Julie’s computer to search for our childhood friends? See if Sarah got valedictorian?” Alex asked, swinging his feet, trying to pull you from your thought which he was successful with.

“Sure.”

Reggie and Luke watched as you and Alex left the attic for some one on one time together, leaving the two.

“I wonder where they’re going?” Reggie questioned, staring after the closed door. His hands pushed into the back pockets of his jeans.

Luke shrugged, “You wanna write a song?”

“Sure! We could-”

“Not country,” Luke told the bassist, who pouted but followed as his best friend poofed to the garage. 

The two Mercer siblings wandered the streets of Los Angeles, each in their own thoughts but comforted by the odd brush of their arms. For Alex, it felt like the old days when you both snuck out of the house just for some air. To just to leave the tense expectations shoved on their shoulders by their perfectionist parents.

“If I’d never disappeared and you didn’t die, where do you think we’d be?” You mused, thinking of all the what-ifs. Would you have gotten together with Luke? Would Sunset Curve had gone on to do sold-out shows.

“I don’t really know, to be honest. I think if we’d gone on to be successful that Reggie would have a ranch somewhere. He might have even released an EP of country songs. I think you and Luke would be together.” Alex thought with a bittersweet smile.

“And?”

“And what?”

“Where do you think you would be?” You questioned the older Mercer, who simply shrugged, “I like to think you would have been happy. Whether that was with someone, who was worthy of you or just by being yourself. Maybe you would have started a charity or been an advocate for the LGBTQ+ community.”

Your e/c eyes caught the smile growing on your older brother’s mouth, bringing a lightness to your body.

“I don’t think it matters. We’re exactly where we’re supposed to be. If we had survived, I would have never seen you again.” Alex confessed, “I think we were always meant to meet Julie.”

You went to open your mouth when your eyes found one of the last places you wanted to be. Somehow you and Alex had walked into the area where the country club was sitting just as it was back in the ’90s. From a distance, you could see the unmistakable form of Sarah, the girl in your grade who had always unwillingly competed academically with you. Sarah was just another girl with heavy expectations from her own wealthy parents.

“Is that Sarah?” Alex softly chuckled as the girl, now a woman, holding the hand of her husband with genuine happiness, “She looks happy.”

“She deserves it. The rivalry all our parents had was insane, so I’m happy one of us got the least complicated life.” You informed Alex bumping your hip against his leg as you talked with the pink-loving male.

England, 1940s

Four youth occupied one of the many rooms in the manor that didn’t hold a candle to Cair Paravel grand size and beauty. Not that the four confused siblings spent time taking a gander in the room. Each focused on how they’d lived well into their thirties before regressing back to the ages they were when they stepped into the wardrobe. There were minor changes.

Edmund wasn’t acting like a knob, Susan inserting herself as dominant, and Lucy was quieter than usual. Peter, however, had a boiling rage he could barely contain within himself.

“Do you think Aslan did this?” Susan questioned her siblings. A single tear rolling down her face at the grief she felt.

Each Pevensie was in the beginning stages of grief. They had to grieve the life they had lost in a magical place. A place where the war didn’t ravage like it did to their home country. For the suitors, she’d only just started to seriously look into.

Not a single shred of evidence tied themselves to Narnia.

“Who else?” Peter scoffed, bringing a gasp from Lucy’s mouth. They had all proudly reigned with Aslan in mind. Not a word is spoken against the great lion who’d died for Edmund and came back to life.

“Pet-”

“This is your fault.” Peter told his younger brother with a grimace on his face, “We had everything we ever needed in Narnia. Why did you need to catch that stupid stag?”

Edmund’s eyebrows furrowed, “You make it sound like our lives were perfect. Newsflash, King Peter, but it was far from that. You barely focused on your marriage, let alone Y/N.”

“Edmund.” Susan admonished, glancing between her brothers as if watching a tennis match. The only sister paying attention as Lucy stared out the window at the overcast day.

“It’s true! His marriage was a sham, and he lied to the entire kingdom!” Edmund shouted with a heated glare, “You acted like you were the most important person in Narnia, like the only reason the place worked was because of your hand solely.”

“Shut up,” Peter growled, stepping right up to his little; Edmund had lost a lot of inches, brother with a sneer. Their hair mussed from rubbing against the furs.

“Just because you’re older and you had High in front of your title doesn’t lessen our power too.”

“STOP IT.” Lucy screamed, stomping her foot, “Who cares about that. How about we focus on where Y/N went? She was right with us in there, and then out of nowhere, she’s gone.”

“I know.” Peter’s shoulder dropped in defeat as it settled further into his mind. Not only had he lost the years he’d lived, but he’d also lost you somewhere along the line.

While you’d fallen out of love, or maybe you’d never even been in love with Peter; he’d faithfully kept feelings for you. Part of him had always known your heart was taken by another, but he cherished the times you had together.

“And she’s not in another place right now. She’s somewhere in the far future.” Edmund added with his arms crossed over each other, “She never elaborated on when, where or what the future looks like. How can we find someone that doesn’t exist yet?”

“We hope our future selves can find her.” Susan finished sending a look at each of her siblings, “In the meantime, let’s live our lives for her, so we have tons of stories for her to listen to.”

Molina Household, America 2020

Luke Patterson shook in his black vans, his best pair he owned, holding simple flowers Julie had gotten. Money from busking down at the pier for some cash the boys could have for anything they wanted. They always left money with a note when they got items.

The flowers’ stems were definitely in a battle to survive the grip from the scared teenage ghost. He’d started the day with a tickle in the back of his mind to ask you out. Just a simple date with no strings attached to see where it could go. He couldn’t chicken out when he’d already knocked, and the door was opening.

“Oh! Luke.” You gasped, blinking at the sudden appearance of the phantom. Luke’s eyes melted at the oversized flannel layered over a cropped dark blue sweater.

Your style pre-Narnia and during Narnia had coalesced over the few months you’d found yourself on Earth. Your love of cropped tops returned with a modest twist, the modesty unshakable.

“I know it’s been hard adjusting from Narnia, but I was wondering if you would go on a date with him?” He blurted, dancing on the balls of his vans with an expression of pure nerves.

Your mind flew twenty miles an hour thinking through the implications of accepting a date with this teenager. A dead teenager at that. Sure he was only a year older, but fate had a sick sense of humour. 

“I don-”

“I know in your other world you have a husband. I get that, but there’s something undeniable between us. It’s been there since the ’90s, and we always just pushed it away. I learned over the twenty-six years that life is too short.” Luke pleaded, slowly pushing the pretty bouquet into your arms, “Just one date to see if this is worth pursuing.”

You should have said no, but you couldn’t, “One date.”

Luke mentally pumped his fist in the air in celebration as if he was starring in a John Hughes movie. As if reading his mind, you teasingly thrust your hand in the air, the very same hand coming into Luke’s grip.

“There isn’t a lot that we can do, but Willie knows a guy unaffiliated with Caleb. Well, he knows him through a few guys, but he hooked me up. In this lovely basket, we have a menagerie of food that I can eat.” Luke spoke proudly with that same twinkle he always had with you by his side.

Your lips parted in pure elation. Luke Patterson was taking you out on one of the things that had been on your bucket list. A picnic date, something you and Alex each desired to enjoy.

Luke led you down a few streets to a park notorious for cute dates. Julie stood over a cliche checkered blanket. In her hand was an old iPhone or iPod hooked up to a Bluetooth speaker, a playlist curated of your favourite songs ready to go.

“You remember how to use this?” Julie questioned the teen ghost with one raised eyebrow. Luke nodded in his mission to unpack the food in a form that was as romantic as possible.

Julie nodded before casting a quiet goodbye to the two ’90s teens.

“How’d you know?” You questioned Luke as he poured a glass of the beverage he’d chosen. His ever-changing eyes flicked up to yours with an endearing expression.

Your eyes scanned his messy hair. He had taken the time to meticulously styled for his date with you. He’d chosen that gorgeous purple corduroy long sleeve shirt that turned his hair to melted milk chocolate. He hadn’t done a 180 on his style; he’d never tell you he’d styled his hair off his forehead into what Alex had dubbed the Prince Charming hair.

“1994 in the studio for Alex’s fifteenth birthday. Bobby snuck some alcohol he’d collected from his uncle’s BBQ and his father’s stash. We got drunk for the first time and played truth or dare.” Luke recalled with a smile. 

He remembered how much of lightweights they were and the way his heart fluttered when Alex answered Reggie’s question. He explained how his ideal date was a picnic in a park with either a guy he was seeing or his celebrity crush. He’d mentioned it was something he shared with you, and then all Luke could think about was taking you on a picnic.

“Dealing with Alex’s hungover ass was a nightmare.” You grunted, swiping one of the pieces of watermelon from a container.

“I can only imagine.” Luke chuckled, slowly shifting closer to you with a sandwich in his left hand. His right arm slowly slinked over your shoulders to rest, the movement halting as your shoulders tensed momentarily.

“Were you really gonna confess that night I disappeared?” You asked the guitarist currently focused on the delicious sandwich. It reminded him of his mother packing his lunch every day, even in his high school years despite telling his mom he could do it himself.

“I was. I chickened out.” Luke admitted and had he been alive, his ears could have flushed along with his cheeks. The bashful ghost struggled to meet your gaze, “I had-have this massive crush on you. I’ve had it since you called me your knight in shining armour-”

“When I sliced my knee open, and you carried me home.”

“I’ve never told anyone, but you’re kinda the reason why I started wearing no sleeves. The guys and us were watching a film, and you mentioned something about the actor’s arms.” Luke snickered with a smile that faded at your sheepish grin, “Oh my god, you knew.”

“Bobby let it slip, ‘I watched him cut the sleeves of his shirts, stitch the raw edges of the fabric, prick his fingers a ton, and he nearly broke my foot’”

“Yeah I almost dropped a weight on him.” Luke snorted, shuffling to lay his head to rest on top of yours. He’d quickly learnt in his mission to gain muscle for your attention that he liked the exercise. He continued to get in shape and grow some muscle, but he still wore sleeveless shirts for you.

“You’re lucky you’re cute.”

Luke beamed at your words, “Nah, you’re the beautiful one.”

The rest of the date was everything you had ever wished for. Luke went above and beyond your expectations, even as a ghost. He’d packed a sweater to help you into when the night appeared, and the cold came. He held your hand on the way home and walked you straight to your attic door.

Luke didn’t push for a kiss either. He simply raised your clasped hand to press a lingering kiss on the back of your hand.

“Sweet dreams.” Luke murmured before he walked down the stairs. The euphoria ensuring he forget his ability to poof.

He wore the same lovesick expression into the studio where two ghosts waited for all the details. Alex and Reggie each buzzing in anticipation for their guitarist best friend.

In your room, you analyzed your feelings closely.

The guilt wasn’t as suffocating as you’d anticipated after going on a date that wasn’t with Peter. Just the guy that had been a reason your marriage with Peter wasn’t how it should have been. You also knew in your heart that Peter would want you to be happy and move on. In fact, in the last two years of your marriage, things had changed to just being two best friends married. 

Your eyes met the window of your attic bedroom with a small smile. Your right hand slowly sliding the symbol of love from your finger. For the first time in a very long time, your wedding and engagement band left your hand.

“I’ll always love you, Peter Pevensie.” You murmured from your place in front of your dresser. The two rings slid into the old jewellery box where they would stay.

The only signs of your previous relationship status are just memories and a pale line on your ring finger.

Time to move on. Time to accept that Narnia was in the past and not in your future. Time to accept that Luke Patterson always had and always would hold your heart in his hands.

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Jeweler Richard Fanbook Short Story #15

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Richard-sensei’s Cooking Classroom

On a bright morning in Kandy, a provincial town from Sri Lanka, a man was standing still in his kitchen. Leaning against the wall was a Japanese book titled “Breakfast for People Who Live Alone”. There were three items on the menu. Just an omelet with ketchup on top, boiled sausages and fruit salad yogurt.

Regardless, the kitchen where the man was standing was an explosion of colors, as if it were the atelier of some Dadaist painter. Perhaps he was wrong in trying to make an omelet, the blond man thought, tilting his head despondently. Loved by the god of beauty, his blond hair swayed smoothly, and on the wall behind him, the exploded omelet was scattered in all directions, giving off an artistic atmosphere. It was obvious that in order to cook an omelet on a frying pan, it was necessary to shake up said pan, but the specific method of how hard one should shake it had not even once made an appearance in his life, much like fairies and unicorns from fictional stories. As a result of him jerking the pan with moderate adjustment, the omelet had flown off, hitting the wall and dripping down under the influence of gravity.

The beautiful man cast his eyes at the opposite side of the kitchen with a melancholic look as well. His golden eyelashes reflected a rainbow-colored prism and shone like an emerald-green sea under the morning sun. In a corner, where a microwave and water heater sat on top of the kitchen table, something orange had burst all over the place from within the microwave. Just why did food blow up so often, the man wondered, silently ashamed of his ignorance for trying to reduce just two rules of thumb to common sense. When he put three vacuum-packed blood sausages in the microwave and warmed them up, the sausages lost their original shape with a faint explosive sound. Obeying the instructions that said, “Bain-marie or microwave”, the man had chosen the microwave, which seemed less difficult, but probably due to some process being neglected or the heating time being incorrect, the sausages had undergone a magical transformation, looking like some sort of eerie monster.

Moving his feet so as not to make a sound, the man headed to the dining room, lightly placing a hand on the large table and elegantly gazing at the tabletop. Fragments of yellow and green were floating on a sea of white.

“Fruits yogurt,” the man whispered, as if it were a magic spell, heaving a spring breeze-like sigh.

It was just chopped fruits floating on yogurt. Taking into account the possibility that he could not cut the fruits too meticulously, the man was out of luck to have a slicer with him, and by the moment he realized that this one was apparently not supposed to be used for fruits but rather for slicing things such as cabbages and carrots into thin pieces, the fruits that he had failed to chop had gone flying over the table, surrounding the bowl of yogurt and instantaneously creating a Genesis-like scene on the tabletop. It was chaos.

On 360 degrees, no matter where he looked, it was a foodstuff hell. After looking around one more time at the artistic misery he had created and sighing coarsely, he started anew and began doing a quick cleaning.

   “Morning, Richard. You slept well, I see.”

“Good morning, Seigi. So you wake up early even in Sri Lanka. Short sleepers have shorter lives. Didn’t you go to bed yesterday when it was already past midnight?”

“That’s fine for today. I have a guest here, after all. I’ll catch up with my sleep tomorrow.”

“I have not done so much to be called a ‘guest’.”

“There, there; let’s leave that for after we eat.”

His face looking like he was checking on something, the man whose appearance was impeccable even first-thing in the morning, as usual, glanced at the kitchen and dining room of my Sri Lankan house, and then let out a tiny sigh, stopping by a place close to the garden.

“Hey, could it be you woke up early this morning? Like, around 5AM...”

“Why?”

“I wonder if it was my imagination.”

In this three-story house, the first floor was a shared space for the dining room and bathroom, while the second and third floors had bedrooms. The room that I used as my main one was on the second floor, and the room on the third floor was used when Richard came over to be my overseer, but only the first floor had a bathroom. Whenever someone was going down to the first floor, one could tell by the sound of them stepping on the stairs. That was no big deal when I was alone, but this was the kind of house that would disturb other people’s sleep if I didn’t walk quietly whenever I needed to use the toilet in the middle of the night.

At around five o’clock, probably because I was drowsy, I had the feeling that someone had gone downstairs. I went back to sleep thinking that maybe Richard, who was looking after me despite having a jetlag, felt like having a late-night snack or something, but it was apparently a wrong guess.

Said man, dressed in a soft-looking shirt and the beige pants that he usually wore when he was relaxed, was standing still with eyes wide-open. It seemed he had noticed what was on the table. I was happy with the reaction.

“I’ve got breakfast for us. Hope it suits your taste.”

“Why? You said yesterday that your breakfast was just cereal and fruits.”

“I indeed said this yesterday, but I wanted to show it’s really not like that every single day. I also didn’t want you to worry for no reason.”

Plain omelets, sausages and fruit salad. For some reason, this house had many pottery dishes from European brands instead of Sri Lankan ones, but they were working out well for today. The paintings of green and pink pedicels over a white background were apparently from a German brand. It was actually my first time making a breakfast like this, which looked like it could show up in a commercial for some newly built apartment building and wasn’t as filling as its appearance suggested, but it had been surprisingly fun.

“I saw the recipe book in the kitchen. It’s a present for me, right? Thank you. I was happy to read a book in Japanese after so long, so I decided to make the part that showed up when I opened it into our menu. Now, now, please have a seat and eat up.”

For about solid ten seconds, Richard stared at the one-plate breakfast, his gaze looking like he was seeing a stone that he had never set his eyes on before, but then, after giving a start as if just remembering that I existed, he sat down with his same-old graceful demeanor.

“Well then, shall we?”

And so, Richard ate breakfast next to me. At times like these, this man would become extremely well-mannered, taking notice of and praising the details, such as the fineness of the omelet’s texture and the beauty of the fruit cuts in the yogurt, as if he were evaluating a five-million-yen jewelry or something. Even while being in Sri Lanka, I sometimes thought that if there were teachers like him in middle or high school around Japan, it would save many children.

“Thanks; that makes me happy. I’m benefiting from it too. Getting so many compliments for just boiling sausages.”

I didn’t know very well how to describe Richard’s face when I said that. His expression seemed like it could be the theme of a masterpiece painting, as if the exceptionally beautiful man had suddenly been reminded of an indescribable pain in the depths of his chest, but was struggling not to expose it in his facial expression. When I asked what was up, the reply was a gentle smile. His usual face was already back.

“I believe I have already said this several times, but you are extremely smart. You decipher the texts, assemble the methods in your head and put them to practice. There are more hardships in this process than you can imagine. Nevertheless, you specialize at it. This is clearly a talent of yours. Be sure to cherish it.”

“I will. But, well, I think doing my best because someone else’s gonna eat it also counts.”

For security reasons, I wasn’t allowed to invite guests to this house. I was sometimes called over to the house of a local friend I had made, and then I’d cook a simple dish there, but guests that make several meticulous dishes on the spot were probably not very welcome. So whenever there were days like these, when “guests” officially recognized by the house’s owner, Saul-san, occasionally came over, it was a great opportunity for me have a change of pace.

While thanking Richard for washing the dishes, I cleaned up the dining room and before moving on to stone study, which was my daily routine in the morning (at any rate, I had to examine stones thoroughly, guess their prices and drill the right and wrong ones into my head; pretty simple), I asked him about lunch. Richard-sensei was very busy. No time for leisure.

“You’ll be off again in the evening flight, right? What we gonna do about lunch? If you’re leaving at three o’clock, then you’ll still be in Kandy at noon, right? Can we go to a restaurant I like?”

“What a good thing it is that you found a ‘restaurant you like’ in this country. Allow me to accompany you.”

While smiling, Richard was about to let out a yawn, yet he hastily bit it down. He was like a prideful cat. As I thought, he seemed a little sleepy. When I suggested him to go to bed again, he said that he didn’t mind it, since he was going to sleep in the night flight either way. And yet he was calling me a short sleeper.

I glanced at the dining room and the kitchen. They were neatly organized. From their tidy and orderly state, I could tell with just a look that I obviously hadn’t cleaned them to this point last night. There wasn’t a single speck of dust on the floor. Despite the difference between the inside and outside of the house being so vague. There was no evidence left, but it was clear that something had happened here. Not a murder, but a more peaceful and heartwarming incident. The suspect showed no signs of confessing. So I wouldn’t say anything either. No particular comments on the multiple rags and some food remains at the bottom of the organic waste bag. I only had one thing that I wanted to say no matter what, so I hoped he’d just let me say it.

After finishing the meal, I waited for the beautiful man to stand up, and then I went behind Richard, clutching his shoulders. I was going to say it before he turned around, asking what I was doing. It was best if I didn’t see his face. There was no telling what I could say when I was staring at him in fascination.

“I myself don’t know very well what I’m talking about, so I want you to forget it in two seconds, but I was reeeally happy for this morning. Really happy. To a shocking extent.”

“What are you talking about?”

“I said I didn’t know either, right? I don’t get it, but anyway, I was happy. That’s all! Aight, study time.”

Without looking at Richard’s face until the very end, I started knocking a thousand gemstones in my workspace on the first floor. I had to look over them while it was morning. This was my current job. Richard didn’t say anything else, but his back looked calm under his shirt, so I was a bit relieved as well. Thinking back on it now, I had taken the wrong path at that time. I should have told him “not to overdo it” more clearly.

Two weeks later, Richard came back, but this time, I heard a small explosion at 6AM. Three times in a row. What did it take for things to turn out this way? The current time was already 7AM. Between getting up right now or not, which one would be less of a hassle later on? I didn’t even want to think about what had been made of the dining room. There was no one other than the two of us in this house and this wasn’t a matter that I had to go as far as asking the landlord, Saul-san, for advice on, so I knew I was the one who had to deal with it anyway. I wanted someone to decide in my stead. What should I do?

[notebooknebula]

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https://www.jayconner.com/leverage-books-to-grow-your-real-estate-business-with-max-keller-jay-conner/

Max Keller is a Best Selling Author, Investor, Entrepreneur, and National Speaker

Max joins Jay Conner to teach everyone how to create success.

Max went from being a full-time high school Math Teacher to creating multiple successful real estates and marketing businesses. He has published multiple books and currently licensees his lead generation systems to real estate professionals all over the country.

Although business is Max’s new full-time obsession, one thing has never left… the heart of a teacher. Max loves the opportunity to teach, inspire, and share real-world applications that can transform the lives of business owners.

Max earned his B.B.A. in Finance from The University of Texas at Austin and his M.A. in Teaching from Louisiana College. He has over 15 years of experience in real estate, finance, and teaching, and he was named the 2019 Industry Innovator of the Year. A few of his current roles are consultant, teacher, author, speaker, and expert panelist. He has flipped over 100 houses and is on a mission to help real estate agents and real estate investors have customers chasing them.

Max created Savior Publishing House as a way to serve his community and help seniors with their real estate challenges. The Savior brand of companies focuses on providing Christian real estate and business solutions to our clients. Max enjoys spending time with his wife and children and engaging in family activities, such as being involved at church and going on vacation. He is passionate about investing time in his family.

Timestamps:

0:01 – Get Ready To Be Plugged Into The Money

1:42 – Jay’s New Book: “Where To Get The Money Now”- https://www.JayConner.com/Book

2:59 – Today’s guest: Max Keller

5:26 – How Max Keller got into the real estate business

7:19 – Max Keller’s first real estate deal.

8:23 – Max Keller’s struggles during his start-up in the real estate business

13:29 – Max Keller’s marketing strategy in finding deals in the senior market

17:41 – They see me differently because I have a book – Max Keller

20:38 – Let Max Keller help you create your own book for your real estate business.

27:34 – ‘Real Estate Investors’ Book Writing Checklist” – https://www.DealsChasingYou.com/Conner

28:57 – Max Keller’s parting advice: Lead with value.

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https://youtu.be/QyeBbDOF4wo

YouTube Channel

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Real Estate Investing With Jay Conner

Jay Conner

00:02:40

My special guest knows how to teach and create success. In addition to that, my guest and friend went from being a full-time high school math teacher to creating in such a short period of time, a moldable successful real estate and marketing businesses. In fact, he’s published multiple books and currently licenses his special proprietary lead generation systems to real estate professionals all over the country. Also, I want you to know that all of those businesses are my friend’s new full-time obsession. But one thing has not changed, and that is his heart of being a teacher.

He’s got a servant’s heart. He’s always looking to give value and he loves teaching. He loves the opportunity to teach, inspire, and share real world applications that can transform your business. In addition to that, my special guest and friend has been investing in real estate. He’s got 15 years of experience in real estate, finance, and teaching. And as a matter of fact, he was named the 2019 Industry Innovator of the Year. Also, he has already flipped over 100 houses. In addition to that, he’s created a company called Savior Publishing House as a way to serve his community and to help senior citizens with their real estate challenges, enjoy spending time with his wife and children engaged in family activities. And something very, very important to him is being very involved in his local church, just like me and Carol Joy. With that, welcome to the show my good friend, Max Keller.

Max Keller

00:04:57

Hey, good to be here. Let’s go.

Jay Conner

00:05:00

It is awesome to have you on here, Max. Good to see you again. You and I are in a fellow mastermind. You and I have probably known each other now for about 3 years or so. And I tell you, it’s just amazing to watch all the phenomenal successes and the growth of your company that you’ve got going on. We’re going to be talking about private money with you here on the show today. But before we jump in, tell us, Max, how did you get into real estate?

Max Keller

00:05:28

It was sort of by accident. So, I was teaching Math at an inner city school. I was coaching football, basketball, and track, and I didn’t want to actually get into real estate full time. I just saw it as a passive income opportunity. My pay was pretty much fixed to being a teacher. And so I was like, I got to do something as my kids were getting older. So what I did was I just wanted to maybe get one or two rentals a year. I figured if I did that over a period of time, I could have a pretty good nest egg and then pass it on. What ended up happening in 2015 was I just kind of got sucked into real estate. I mean, it’s not just a good way to make money over long periods of time, but you can really increase the active income.

So I basically just got a local mentor. I worked all day as a teacher and then at night I would work for him. And within about 3 months I got a couple of houses under contract wholesale. One made about $16,000, which is like 4 months worth of teacher pay. I Then did it again. And then another time. And I just decided I needed to go full-time. And so that’s what I did. I just went full-time, I made the leap, it was a lot easier to source deals back then in 2015, 2016 than it is right now, but there’s still ways to do it. You just have to know what you’re doing, execute, and level up your marketing. And so that’s sort of been the journey that I’m on. I’m in Dallas Fort Worth and it’s very competitive like a lot of markets. And so what happened with me, I just had to figure out a better way to do my marketing because if you don’t have leads in your business, whether they’re for private money or for deals, you don’t have a business. So that’s kind of what happened to me. It’s been an amazing journey and it just keeps evolving every day.

Jay Conner

00:07:19

So was your first deal, a wholesale deal, a fix and flip, what was it?

Max Keller

00:07:23

So I have pretty good credit because I didn’t use it. That’s what’s kind of funny about credit. If you use it a lot, you don’t get very much more and your credit score is low. I had gone through when I was a teacher, like the Dave Ramsey Financial Peace University model, so I had all my debts paid off. I didn’t understand how to leverage debt in a good way yet. So, I actually took down my first property with a line of credit, I guess I kind of really wholetailed it, I technically took title to it and then just sold it, like I did a closing 4 weeks later to a cash buyer. But yeah, it was $16,000. I mean, I didn’t squeeze every ounce of juice out of the deal like I could have, but what I did have back then, which was really important, is having some really consistent, solid buyers. And that allowed me to create some opportunities for bigger chunks of cash today. And then it allowed me to leverage into long-term assets.

Jay Conner

00:08:23

What were some of your early struggles when you were starting out?

Max Keller

00:08:26

I think probably the first one was what to focus on and like who to market to. So it’s funny. I do a lot of marketing now and I’ve gotten a lot better at it. But at first, the challenge was that marketing because there’s so many other people sending out the exact same thing to everybody. And so as the competition kept going up in our market, the return on my ad spend kept getting lower and lower. And so I had to figure out basically what I figured out in my market was the problem that we were having was every other investor and wholesaler were sending the same messages to the same people. Like if they’re on my list, they’re probably on other people’s lists, too. And we have hedge funds entering our market pretty early on and they were paying really, really high prices.

So I knew that if I was just going to only compete on price and compete against people who have multimillion dollar marketing budgets, that was going to be a tough order. So the good news is I just thought about what the problem was and said maybe I don’t need to take down every deal in Dallas Fort Worth. What’s the best niche I can focus on? And so what I did and what I would encourage people to consider, even if they’re brand new is like, I just kind of outlined what’s a perfect deal for me. And for me, a perfect deal is one where I make good profit on the deal because of a larger profit deal and a smaller one. They take about the same amount of time. Number two is I want to work with people that aren’t resisting me. Like, I would go over to people’s houses and they would argue with me when I showed them the comps and they hadn’t moved in 20 years.

They don’t have a real estate background. And I was like, this is kind of a joke. And so that was number two. I want to work with people who are like, “You’re the expert who helped me,” and I want to work with people that I just enjoyed working with, who were just nice people that just didn’t have a clear path. And so those are the kind of people I wanted to work with. I made a list when I’d already done about 30 or 40 deals, most of the deals that I’d already done didn’t meet all of those criteria, but the ones that did, you didn’t have to be rocket scientists to figure out what the pattern was and that they were senior citizens, they were senior homeowners. So that was sort of my first marketing A-ha moment, was that there’s this really large, fastest-growing niche in our real estate space that I could target with different messages.

Senior homeowners have different needs than millennial homeowners. They just do. They’re interested in different stuff. They have different questions. So instead of sending everybody the same message, “I’ll buy your house, paid cash in 7 days,” like everybody else is sending, I started sending totally different messages that were very senior-centric. And as a benefit, I got a lot more calls. I had a much higher response rate and then kind of the next thing that happened after that real quick was about a senior’s house. It was the dad, and his adult children were there. So he was probably in his early ’80s and the kids were in their ’50s, early ’60s. People were upset because they’re selling the family home. There’s a lot of memories, Christmas was right over there, but they had to do it.

The dad couldn’t stay in the house any longer. And so the adult daughter said, “I really appreciate everything that you’ve done for us. You’ve helped us out.” I found the dad a new place to live, like a senior retirement home. And she said, “You know a lot about this. Have you ever thought about writing a book about this?” I was like, Jay, my lands, that was the furthest thing from my mind. I was like, “No, I’m a Math teacher. I’m not an English teacher.” But then when I thought about it, I was like, that’s actually a pretty good idea because at the time in the little 3 cities that I focused on in this huge Dallas Fort Worth metro area, I was getting known as the guy who knew a lot about seniors.

But if I wrote a book about seniors and their housing struggles, I could be the guy who wrote the book on it. So that’s what I did. I’ve got a special gift for your audience at the end, by the way. If you’re interested in writing your own book, we’ve created the first of its kind DIY guide. It’s basically the framework that we didn’t have when we wrote our first book, but we have now for all the books that we write. I didn’t realize that a book would be such an incredible magnetic marketing engine for my business. I was selfishly just kind of tired of having the 4-hour Q and A’s in everybody’s living rooms, answering the same questions over and over for 3 years. It was kind of burning me out. So I just wrote the answers to all those questions in the book. I wrote down all the stuff that people should ask, and I just got it printed. It took a couple of hundred hours to write my first one and then I just started giving it to people and it became my ultimate business card. And it really changed the way that I market for deals and then eventually private money forever.

Jay Conner

00:13:30

So, you started focusing, as you just said, on serving and talking with senior citizens that were at the point where they needed to sell their houses.

What are your favorite marketing methods for locating the owners of these houses that may be looking to sell?

Max Keller

00:13:56

Great question. So there’s really 2 categories of marketing methods that we use. They’re the ones that we used before we had a book. And then there’s the ones that are more available to people who are experts, authorities, local celebrities. You, obviously, are in that category. And so what we did initially when we got the book, was basically just the same methods that we were using. Data is more available now than it’s ever been. It’s easier than it’s ever been to find more ways than there’s ever been for people to reach you. What’s really missing in marketing is really understanding who you’re talking to as a marketer and then sending messages that are like reading their minds.

That’s the biggest problem, okay? It’s not the list. Everybody has the same list. Everybody knows how to stack a list. You can go on YouTube, figure it out in 5 minutes. The real challenge is why would they choose you over everybody else? That’s the missing piece. And so that’s what we did. I’ll give you an example, real simple, okay. We’re getting calls from our direct mail, our door-to-door flyers, our normal calling agents and talking about if there are pocket listings. Normal stuff. So people are calling our office, right? We had just gotten the book and sometimes they’re calling with a little bit of a chip on their shoulder because they know that they’re getting all this mail, you know? So they’re like, “Hey, congratulations, you’re going to win the house lottery. You have the opportunity to come over to my house and pay me more than you probably should.”

And so when people call, they’re like, “we need you to come over right now.” And I was afraid that if I didn’t go over there real quick, they would sell it to somebody else. That’s what they teach at all the bootcamps. And that’s probably true if you don’t have a book, but if you do, you don’t have to do that because instead I would just say, “Hey, oh great! Yeah, you want us to come over? Okay. we’ll get to that. Hey, real quick, do you have a copy of our latest book?” And they’re like, “Your book?” like the whole tone changes. I go, “Yeah! We wrote the book on senior housing. I’m the Home To Home guy, the step-by-step senior housing guide.” And I press further.

“So, let me ask you a question. If I send an autographed copy of the book to your house,  you can read Chapter 3 – ‘All The Ways To Sell Your Home with Pros & Cons of Each’ before I come over. Because if you can, then I’ll come over and if you can’t, then I can’t come over. See, I’m the boss of my business. I’m the expert you’re calling and talking to the foundational source for the information that you need. So we’re going to follow my process.” It’s not being rude. It’s just a statement of fact. And so it really increases compliance, which is what you want as a business owner. Because you know the formula to help your clients better than they do. Otherwise, they’d be doing it themselves. Well, what do you think people are going to say when you ask them if they’re going to read an autographed book?

What do people say when they get your autographed book? They can’t wait. So what happens is, I pay a courier about 30 or 40 bucks. I send it over and I go, “Hey, do you still need me to come over right now? Or are you going in to foreclosure?” Then we got like a couple of days. It’s okay, a couple of days. So now I’m on my schedule, which is what I need to run a predictable business. I send the book, they read Chapter 3, but they read the rest of the chapters. Do you know what I mean? They read the story right here with me and my Momo. Do you think people think that guys who take care of their 90-year-old grandmas are scumbags or loan sharks? Heck, no. They’re like, “Man, this is, like, my new grandson, Max.”

So when I come over, they’ve read the whole book. They’ve already spent 4 or 5 hours with me and they see me differently because I have a book, you know? So it just sets the tone really well. It puts the odds in my favor. Then when I come over, I bring them the workbook and they’re just like, “Dang, it’s like Christmas around here.” And then I go through it with them. So instead of just talking about stuff or asking these lame and hard closing questions that nobody likes and it makes you look really slimy, we don’t have to do any of that stuff. Here’s the perfect example, Jay, on page 41. I tagged this page. I go, “Now, Mavis, if you’re looking at some other investors to buy your house, I totally understand that.”

I said to her, “I’d probably do the same thing, but make sure that you ask them these questions. These are the questions you’re going to want to ask to make sure you don’t get roped in with the wrong person. And by the way, you can ask me those questions, too: Do you see the credibility? Do you see the openness?” It’s like lights out. So that’s how we buy houses and it works really well. We attach it to what we’re already doing, but then the other stuff is the stuff that we didn’t even know about, which is speaking to local businesses. So one time I spoke at the probate attorney association, a monthly meeting for my county. Jay, do you think that 30 probate attorneys sitting in a room while you’re standing, that makes you the expert at what you’re delivering? Do you think some of those 30 probate attorneys in the next 2 years are going to know somebody that needs to sell their house?

Jay Conner

00:19:12

Well, it’s the perfect market that is like the revolving door of prospects for your target market.

Max Keller

00:19:19

Yeah. And so I used to think the only way to market for deals was directly to the homeowner with really standard, generic messages that get thrown in the trash. So our messages used to be in the junk mail, but now our books are on the coffee table with all the other autographed books from the local real estate experts, which, as you know, it’s not a huge stack. So, it’s about pivoting when you’ve established yourself as an authority, as an expert, as a local celebrity in your field, whatever it is. It helps make the transition going from an annoying pest, as Dan Kennedy says, to a welcome guest.  We were the pesky salespersons who were only pitching and not listening, but now we’re the educator or the non-fiduciary housing advisor. That’s just a big paradigm shift. And when you’re in front of 30 business owners, there’s an incredible amount of leverage because they know 30 prospects. So in 1 hour you can really speak to 900 people. It’s just super powerful. And I haven’t found any other method of marketing that can replicate those kinds of results.

Jay Conner

00:20:32

Well, you can’t beat the credibility of having a book. You can’t beat the credibility of knowing what you’re talking about and being an expert. So, Max, we got a lot of people here listening to the podcast and I’m sure they’re scratching their heads going, “Well, that’s a great idea, Max, but how in the world do I get me a book?”

Max Keller

00:20:52

How can I get a book? Yeah, great question. I would love to come on here and say, “Jay, I’m just such a hot shot ninja marketer that I planned all this out.” Nothing could be further from the truth. If my market wasn’t so competitive, I would have never spent 200 hours writing a book. I would have just kept scooping up deals like most people were doing in that time in these tertiary, secondary markets, but I didn’t have a choice and it worked out really good. Here’s what happened. I’m getting deals with my book. I’m in masterminds, and we’re actually in a lot of the same masterminds. So I’m in this mastermind and my friends in there, you know, investors copy what works, they’re not trying to reinvent the wheel. And they’re like, “Hey, I kinda like this.”

“I live in Florida. You’re not using your book in Florida. It turns out we got seniors there, too. You think I could use your book?” And I was like, “I don’t know.” Maybe I just didn’t understand. And then my friend in Chicago is like, “Hey, can I use your book? Hey, they got seniors in Chicago, too.” So what we did was we created a system. I brought in some of the who’s who in publishing and we created a licensing program. It turns out the secret behind this book is that 99% of it is about stuff that our ideal prospect cares about. 1% is about us. Most marketing messages are the opposite. All they do is talk about themselves and very little about the person. That’s why they don’t call you. It’s like, “I’m sending out all this stuff. Why are people not calling me?”

Because it doesn’t look like you even understand what they’re going through. So that was sort of the accidental secret sauce from this. So we created a system where we change about 5% of the book, because the ways to sell a house in North Carolina is pretty similar to Dallas and is pretty similar to California, especially with the types of assisted living facilities, all of that’s about the same. So now we just swap them out on the cover. We give them a custom cover and they just pay us a one-time licensing fee to set up their book. In less than 30 days, they have a book and a workbook that they can hand out to prospects. And so they only spend about an hour or two of their time filling out all the information we need to personalize it. We write in their story.

So it just lowers the barriers that make it easier. And the folks that are usually a fit for our program are folks that are active real estate investors. They understand the value of a deal. They have some credibility, but they just haven’t figured out a way to signal it to the people they’re trying to reach. The phone isn’t ringing like it used to. Those are the people that come to us. And we’ve had about 130 students that licensed one of our 4-books systems across the nation. They see that this works and they don’t want to reinvent the wheel. So yeah, that created another, whole new business that I never expected. That’s where I got the award from, with Robert Kiyosaki. Jay, a funny story and I didn’t tell everybody this right.

It’s kind of embarrassing, but in 2005 I actually tried to get into real estate. I was 25. I just got married. The problem was, I wasn’t reading and I definitely wasn’t writing books. I didn’t have a clue what I was doing. So I researched CRMs all day, which is worthless. And I created an LLC, which is meaningless. And I didn’t know anything about marketing or lead generation. I stood in line to get Robert’s book for 2 hours. And then I just ended up not doing anything. That’s what happens. I just didn’t understand what to do next. I didn’t have a mentor. I didn’t even know what that was. So it’s crazy to think and I never would have imagined in a million years, 15 years later, I’m getting this award, we’re sharing a stage together and we’re exchanging books. I never would have imagined it.

It was a really cool deal. So it can happen. Books are super powerful and we believe that we’ve made it easier than ever for folks to plug in. And like I said, it’s for folks who want to do senior housing. And then what happened was that, well, once you have a deal, what do you need after that? The money. So we created a licensing program. This is one of my student’s books, Leonard, I’m really proud of him. He’s in Seattle. And because it turns out, guess what? Senior homeowners have questions. And when you give them the book, they look at you really differently. It works the same way with private money lenders. Who knew? So this is Leonard’s book. And then we just swap out covers. Here’s Tim Davis’. So you see how they’re different? But the insides are the same. But here’s the thing, the person you’ve given it to doesn’t care.

They just want to solve their problem. They’re just trying to figure out how to not get into a deal with a lousy borrower. They’re just trying to figure out if this deal really has a discount or not, they just want to have their questions answered. So instead of going to a blog or getting a bunch of emails, which have a low perceived value, we give them something that has a higher perceived value and a higher level of expected authority and expertise. And we just educate and help people. We tell them this isn’t for everybody. Being a private money lender on real estate is not for everybody. This is who it’s for. This is who is not for. This is my book and if you want to go through it together, I’d love your feedback. You know, stuff like that. So it’s been really cool and he’s happy because he didn’t have to rewrite this himself.

And then what we’re good at is helping people apply it to their marketing because just getting a box of books where you wrote one chapter with everybody else, nobody cares about when you fell down a well and you overcome your struggles, they just care about themselves. “What’s in it for me?”, that’s what all the homeowners are thinking. That’s what all the private money lenders are thinking. They won’t tell you that, but that’s what they’re really thinking. So just give them that, but give it to them in a way that establishes your authority and your credibility and it’s scalable and that’s pretty much what we do. And then we created a book system for Gene Guarino. We just did his latest book, and his students licensed it. And then we haven’t even announced this publicly, but we just wrote a book for Eddie Speed and the Richard Thornton, and so there notes students are going to license that out. That’s brand new. We haven’t even announced it, but I guess I spoiled it a little bit. So it’s been really cool to help people because everybody there wants to lead with more value. They want to educate well, I mean, who would ever say no to that? So it’s been cool.

Jay Conner

00:27:14

What you’ve done there, Max, is you’ve created a way that no matter what niche someone has in real estate, they can further invest on how to raise their credibility and actually convert a higher percentage of prospects into actually doing business. Well, I know we’ve got people that want to connect with you. So what’s the best way for people to connect with you, Max?

Max Keller

00:27:37

Yeah, it’s real simple. We made a special link as long as it’s up, so don’t delay, but we’re going to leave it up at least for the first 25 people who download this. So we created a new book called, “The Real Estate Investors Bookwriting Checklist.” It’s basically all the steps that we went through when we wrote Gene’s book and Eddie’s book and Richard’s book. But we didn’t have that when we started and we haven’t seen it in any other books. So it’s a real simple guide that you can use, whether you’re thinking about writing a book or an e-book or you just want to have social media messages that convert better. It’s real simple. Just go to DealsChasingYou.com/Conner. You can download a copy of the book while the link is still up. And then you can go on the website and check out some of the training videos that we have. It talks about the different types of book systems and how it would benefit you because that’s what it’s all about. It’s about getting more deals. It’s about getting more dollars. And when those things get dialed in, the marketing becomes a lot easier. Life just gets better.

Jay Conner

00:28:50

Max, thank you so much for offering that amazing gift to our listeners here. Any final comments and advice?

Max Keller

00:29:01

Just lead with value. Look, I know you can go deep sea fishing and I know there’s some great fishing where you’re at. You can go deep sea fishing and spend 4 hours trying to wrestle a big fish on the boat. That works. People do it. It’s just really exhausting. That’s what it’s like to market in a crowded market, trying to compete against Wall Street with price. That’s what it’s like trying to market without a book. But what we do is totally different. We share what we’re doing. And then we attract the people that resonate with our message. And so they’re calling and qualifying themselves to work with us. And in one of the most competitive markets in the nation, in one of the most competitive times, people are regularly calling us asking if they qualify to work with us. That’s a big difference.

Jay Conner

00:29:49

That’s awesome. Thank you so much, Max. There, you have it, folks.

[tinyshe]

This is dedicated to all you Americans that are whining about “living in a communist country” and what a dictator Trump was; I offer the following for you to think about.

I Grew Up in a Communist System. Here’s What Americans Don’t Understand About Freedom Only in a free-market system can we truly achieve individual liberty and human flourishing.

“Individual freedom can only exist in the context of free-market capitalism. Personal freedom thrives in capitalism, declines in government-regulated economies, and vanishes in communism. Aside from better economic and legislative policies, what America needs is a more intense appreciation for individual freedom and capitalism.

“I was born and raised in communist Romania during the Cold War, a country in which the government owned all the resources and means of production. The state controlled almost every aspect of our lives: our education, our job placement, the time of day we could have hot water, and what we were allowed to say.

“Like the rest of the Eastern European countries, Romania was often referred to as a communist country. In school, we were taught it was a socialist country. Its name prior to the 1989 Revolution to overthrow the Ceausescu regime was the Socialist Republic of Romania.

“From an economic standpoint, a petty fraction of property was still privately owned. In a communist system, all property is owned by the state. So if it wasn't a true communist economy, its heavy central planning and the application of a totalitarian control over the Romanian citizenry made this nation rightfully gain its title of a communist country.

Socialism Creates Shortages

“Despite the fact that Romania was a country rich in resources, there were shortages everywhere. Food, electricity, water, and just about every one of life's necessities were in short supply. The apartment building in which we lived provided hot water for showers two hours in the morning and two hours at night. We had to be quick and on time so we didn't miss the opportunity.

“I get it, maybe we didn't need to be fashionable. But we needed to eat.

“Wrigley's chewing gum and Swiss chocolate were a rare delight for us. I remember how happy I was when I'd have a pack of foreign bubblegum or a bar of delicious milk chocolate. I'd usually save them for special occasions.

“Fruity lip gloss, French perfume, and jeans were but a few of the popular items available only on the black market and with the right connections. God bless our black-market entrepreneurs! They made our lives better. They gave us the opportunity to buy things we very much desired, things we couldn't get from the government-owned retail stores which were either half-empty or full of products that were ugly and of poor quality.

“The grocery stores were not any better. I get it, maybe we didn't need to be fashionable. But we needed to eat. So, the old Romanian adage "Conscience goes through the stomach" made a lot of sense.

“During the late 1970s, life in Romania started to deteriorate even more. Meat was hardly a consumer staple for the average Romanian. Instead, our parents learned to become good at preparing the liver, the brain, the tongue, and other giblets that most people in the West would not even consider trying.

“For a family of four like us, our rationed quota was 1 kilogram of flour and 1 kilogram of sugar per month.

“When milk, butter, eggs, and yogurt were temporarily available, my mom—like so many others of our neighbors—would wake up at 2:00 a.m. to go stand in line so she'd have the chance to get us these goodies. The store would open at 6:00 a.m., so if she wasn't early enough in line she'd miss the opportunity.

“In 1982, the state sent their disciples to people's homes to do the census. Along with that, food rationing was implemented. For a family of four like us, our rationed quota was 1 kilogram of flour and 1 kilogram of sugar per month. That is, if they were available and if we were lucky enough to be in the right place at the right time when they were being distributed.

“The one television channel our government provided for us often focused on programs related to crime and poverty in the western world. After all, people were poor and suffering because of capitalism, so we were told, so we needed socialism and communism to solve the inequalities of humanity.

Capitalism Advances Private Property

“Considering the shortages created by the government-controlled economy of my birth country, I came to understand and appreciate capitalism, the one system that had the most dramatic effect in elevating human civilization.

“Private property and private property rights are at the core of capitalism.

“The layman definition of capitalism is the economic system in which people and businesses engage in manufacturing, trading, and exchanging products and services without government interference. A free-market capitalist system works in a more efficient manner when not tampered with by government or central bank intervention in the credit markets, monetary policy, and interest rate fixing.

“Private property and private property rights are at the core of capitalism. When in school, we learned that private property makes people greedy and is considered detrimental to society. Private property was associated with capitalism, the system that our textbooks claimed failed.

Allocation of Resources

“Romania was rich in natural resources, yet the difference between our standard of living and those from the West was quite dramatic. It was indicative of a flawed economic system that most countries in Eastern Europe adhered to during the Soviet Era. But one may ask why was there so much poverty when natural resources are so abundant?

“The free market, however, directs the allocation of resources via the amazing process of supply and demand.

Economics is the study of the allocation of scarce resources which have alternative uses. Efficiency is thus of primary concern when the goal is economic progress.

“In a centrally-planned environment, the various government individuals who are assigned the task of planning the economy could not possibly know how to properly allocate the scarce resources of an entire nation, no matter how smart or educated they are. Shortages are one of the consequences of improper allocation of the scarce resources.

“The free market, however, through the multiple spontaneous interactions of businesses and consumers, directs the allocation of resources via the amazing process of supply and demand. It is precisely due to the profit and loss events that economic efficiency is stimulated.

Free Markets Attract Capital

“Due to its profit incentives, capitalism encourages innovation. Innovation leads to progress and an increase in the standard of living. But progress and the climate which offers humans a high standard of living cannot be created without the capital to transform and turn resources into the final products that give us the—relatively—cheap energy and food, smartphones, fitness gyms, and overall the life we currently afford. Capital moves in the direction of less regulation, less government intervention, and less taxation. In short, capital moves to where there's more economic freedom.

“Capital is chased away due to the high risk associated with governments who engage in high levels of controlling their economies.

“In contrast, communism, socialism, fascism, or just about any government-controlled system lacks the profit incentive. The people, who are the human resources, have no desire to engage in a business where the reward is not attainable (unless it's done in the black markets). They accept the state and its bureaucratic cronies to dictate their faith.

“Capital is chased away due to the high risk associated with governments who engage in high levels of controlling their economies and, often, corruption. The overall standard of living is dramatically lower than in most capitalist places, and the poverty is higher. Consequently, the collectivist country falls into an economic and social trap from which it is hard to escape. Only capitalism can save a nation from the failure of its central economic planning.

Capitalism Helps Us Be Better Individuals

“Similar to the old Soviet lifestyle, let's remember what the typical Venezuelan family of our times worries about on a daily basis. Food to put on the table and the safety of their children. They wake up in the morning wondering how many meals they can afford that day, where to get them from, and how to pay for them.

“Capitalism makes it possible for us to challenge ourselves, to have goals, and to put forth the sweat in order to achieve them.

“We, the lucky ones to live in a relatively free-market system, don't have these kinds of worries. We go to work, get leisure time to be on Facebook, watch TV, be with our families, read books, and enjoy a hobby or two. In short, we have the personal freedom to engage in and enjoy a variety of life events because of capitalism.

“But there's another important motive to desire to live in a capitalist society. We are free to create and come up with all kinds of business ideas, no matter how crazy some might be. Because we don't have to worry about tomorrow, we have—or make—the time to read, explore, and innovate.

“Capitalism makes it possible for us to challenge ourselves, to have goals, and to put forth the sweat to achieve them. It gives us the freedom to try new things and explore new opportunities. It gives us the chance to create more opportunities. It helps us build strong character because when we try, we also fail, and without failure, how do we know we've made mistakes? Without failure, how do we know we must make changes?

Individual Freedom Can Only Exist in the Context of Free Markets

“Before immigrating to the U.S., I had to go through a rigorous process. One of the events was the immigration interview with the American counselor who, among many other questions, asked why I escaped Romania and why I wanted to come to America. My short answer was freedom. Then he posed the interesting question: "If America was to go through a period of economic devastation with shortages similar to Romania, would you still feel the same way?" I didn't think too much about it, and I said, "Yes, of course, as long as I have freedom."

“Capitalism is the path to the individual rights and liberty that build the solid foundation of a free society.

“In retrospect, that was a dumb answer on my part. After several decades, I came to believe that the human condition of individual freedom can only exist in the context of free markets. Shortages are created by the intrusion of the state into the complex activity of the markets, whether it's price controls or poor allocation of resources.

“When shortages are powerful and long enough to dramatically affect lives, people resort to revolt. Large revolts call for serious governmental actions including, but not limited to, eroding or completely eliminating individual rights (the right to free speech and to bear arms), the institution of a police state, and the enacting of a powerful state propaganda system. Capitalism is the path to the individual rights and liberty that build the solid foundation of a free society.

Is America a True Capitalist Economy?

“The short answer is no. Most of the world refers to the American system as being a capitalist one. Based on my short definition of capitalism, it is obvious that it is not quite a pure one, and I wish to clarify that the U.S. is not a truly free-market capitalist system.

“We still maintain stronger capitalist traits than most, however a few other nations who lead the way in economic freedom have surpassed us.

“The economic policy of the 19th Century with limited regulations and minimal taxation attracted the needed capital to our country. The Industrial Revolution made spectacular advancements in human conditions due to the capital concentrated in the region. America lost its number one place due to legislating higher regulations, taxation, and protectionist policies.

“But we are still enjoying some of the fruits today. Compared to many countries in the world, we still maintain stronger capitalist traits than most, however Hong Kong, Singapore, Switzerland, New Zealand, and a few other nations who lead the way in economic freedom have surpassed us (see the latest statistics).

What America Needs                                                               

[besides a swift kick up the arse, my note]

“It starts in our own backyard, in our home, in our small group, in our community.

“Aside from better economic and legislative policies, what America needs is a more intense appreciation of individual freedom and capitalism. Such a crazy idea is not acquired through public schools or becoming a public servant. Young people don't need more years of schooling with more worthless college degrees and student loans in default. America needs more entrepreneurs and businessmen. It needs more people with drive and ambition, more self-starters, more innovators, more people who are willing to take chances.

“It starts in our own backyard, in our home, in our small group, in our community. It starts with loving, involved, and dedicated parents who'd instill the values of personal responsibility and delayed gratification in their children. It continues with an education that entails both theory and hands-on practice in environments conducive to learning how to think independently and how to acquire life- and work-skills. It evolves into a purpose-driven life rich in learning and experiences. And this may be just the beginning of attaining the intellectual maturity to perceive the value that free markets and individual freedom afford most of us.”

[lokis-army-77]

If You Please

Chapter twelve

Bucky Barnes x Reader

Word Count: 2588

This is technically a reader insert but without the (y/n) and all that. She also has no name mentioned so feel free to imagine as you please.

Follow the reader through the events of the Captain America movies and experience her love for Bucky Barnes.

Warnings: none

Note: Normally I am the type of person to be date accurate when writing things and if you are too, I'm sorry. I messed up on the dates, so the battle of New York happens like a month after it should. This is also a short chapter because it's a filler and I'm trying to just get to the Winter Soldier but have everything make sense.

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Masterlist

A few days later I had received a small archivist job in the WWII department of the Smithsonian. Thankfully the made-up resume and a few fake SHIELD recommendations came in handy. I would officially start the following week after a few background checks were cleared. In my free time until then, I unpacked all the boxes in my apartment. It started to feel more homely and warm when all of my things filled up the space. When I didn’t feel like unpacking anything, I started taking long walks to the VFW building. I hadn’t joined in on any of the meetings yet, I just stood by the doorway and watched, listening to the stories people told.

One day that week as I stood back in the hallway after the meeting had ended, a man came up to me. He was a little taller than I was and had the brightest smile I had ever seen. I had watched him in the meetings before, he was usually the one hosting them, giving advice to all who needed it.

“I’ve seen you standing out here for the past three days, why don’t you come have a seat next time? It would be more comfortable than standing out here for an hour.” He said as he leaned his back against the wall right next to me.

“I have thought about it, but I tend to get here after you have started. I don’t want to interrupt anything by just barging in.” I said over my shoulder at him.

“You won't interrupt anything, just come on in next time, we’d be happy to have a new face around,” He pushed himself off the wall and walked down the hall.

After that, I ended up joining the meetings and even spoke a few times. I learned that the man who came up to me that day was Sam Wilson, pararescue, who had served two tours in Afghanistan. From the first day he came up and talked to me to now, we quickly became friends.

The days had turned into weeks and I was finally able to live relatively by my own means. The Smithsonian was great, in the archives, no one was really around and I could spend a whole day without any interruptions, which allowed me to just concentrate on what I was doing. After closing, I normally walked to meet Sam, who was usually way too excited to see me, even though we saw each other almost every day without fail.

“You’re late today.” I jumped, startled out of my thoughts at the sound of someone talking to me. I looked up, spying Sam standing next to one of the small trees outside the VFW building.

“What do you mean late?”

“I mean you usually get here at three-thirty. It's four right now.” He said looking down at his watch.

“Oh sorry, I didn’t realize. I've just been lost in my thoughts lately.” I sighed.

“I know we’ve only been friends for what? A month? But I already know when something is bothering you, What is it?”

“Nothing really, just my brother. Since moving here he's called at least twice a week to check up but it’s been radio silence for the past two weeks, he doesn't even answer when I try calling him. I'm just a little worried that something bad is going on, considering his job.”

“Well, maybe he’s just really busy at the moment, or he's somewhere he can't call you. You know how it is being out on those military missions.”

“I know, it’s just the last time we were apart on a mission,” I trailed off and looked up at Sam, he raised his eyebrows, quietly waiting for the end of the sentence. “Someone close to us passed. It’s still fresh in my mind like it happened yesterday. I was there that day and I was too far away to even know what had happened, now my brother and I aren’t even in the same vicinity as each other, there is no telling what could happen and it makes me nervous.”

He gave me a small apologetic smile and patted my shoulder before leading me from the tree where we stood to where his car was parked. “What do you say we hang out at mine and just watch some tv? Get your mind off things? Or we can talk about it, either way, it’s better than dealing with it alone.” I nodded my head and grabbed onto the car door handle as he unlocked it.

Walking through the front door after him I took a quick look around. It was cozy, way more decorated than I thought it would be for a man in his early thirties living alone.

“Make yourself at home. Do you want anything to drink?” He asked neck-deep in the fridge.

“Okay, I’ll just have some water,” I called out as I made my way further into the living room. The couch was backed up to the wall a few feet away from the dining room table. I sat down on it and scooted as close as I could to its right arm. A few moments later Sam came over with two glasses of water and a bag of chips. He handed me my drink before crashing down into his own seat. “Thank you,” I said before taking a long sip.

He nodded as he said “No problem.” Before he got himself really comfortable he searched around for the TV remote. As he pressed the ‘on’ button the TV came to life. “What in the world is that?” He sounded concerned so I quickly looked at the screen.

“Breaking: Attack on New York City. This afternoon at 2:15 several unidentified aircraft descended onto Earth's surface. Strange beings, some are calling aliens, Accompanied these ships and are causing havoc in Manhattan. Eyewitnesses have stated that they have seen Iron Man, and what seemed to be Captain America, leading a team of three others fighting back against the invaders. The battle seems to be over but updates are still coming in, let's take a look at some footage of the downtown destruction.” My eyes went wide and my heart stopped as I listened to what the reporter was saying. I kept my eyes glued to the screen as it changed to show a destroyed street. As the camera panned around I spotted Steve fighting against two of the creatures, before the clip quickly changed to show one of the large ships crashing into the New York skyline.

“Oh God Steve, what did you get into?” I murmured to myself.

“You say that like you know him personally.”

“Uhh.” I just gave him a wide-eyed look of surprise. “I do, he’s my brother.”

“Now really isn’t the time to be joking about things,” He gave me a pointed look.

“I swear I’m not joking, he really is my brother. I can explain later, I need to try and get a hold of him.” I pulled out the small flip phone from my pocket and dialed the number for Steve's cell phone, it rang and rang but no answer. I hung up quickly and dialed the number Fury gave me at the beginning of the month. After two rings he answered.

“I assume you are looking for Captain Rogers.”

“Where is he? Is he okay?” I tried to keep the worried tone from coming through in my voice.

“He’s fine. He is in the middle of a debriefing. I’ll tell him you called.”

“Okay, thank you.” As soon as the words left my mouth he gave a quick hum and then hung up. I looked over at Sam whose eyes hadn't left me at all. “Everything is fine, he's in a debrief so that means that whatever happened in New York is definitely over.”

“That’s good to hear, hopefully, those things don’t try to come back again.” He shook like a shiver ran down his spine. “Now please explain how Captain America, a man from the 1940s, is your brother.”

“I can hear the skepticism in your voice.”

He held his hands up in defense, “Hey, I'm not the one saying I'm the sister to a 90 something-year-old man.”

“Look, it’s a long story that I would rather not get into now but the short version is that I was born in 1921, Steve is my older brother, we both ended up taking the super-soldier serum and fought against HYDRA in the second world war. We ended up crashing a plane into some Ice in the Atlantic ocean and were found and unfrozen last October.” “If you are really Captain America’s sister, then why are you never mentioned in anything?” I looked at him and shook my head.

“Well for starters it was the forties and I was a woman fighting on the front lines. Credit is never given where it is due. But there is also the fact that I was a part of the SSR, which was very secretive, after I died.” I put my fingers up in air quotes, “They should have erased most, if not all the files on me, per protocol. The only reason Steve is well known is because of his time going cross country selling war bonds.” I paused for a second before quickly adding, “I’m sure if you look hard enough, you’ll find me in the history books somewhere.”

Sam just sat there not really saying anything. This was the first time I think he had ever been quiet for more than five seconds. I let out a deep sigh and stood, grabbing my bag from the floor. “Thanks for having me over, but I think I need to go. I’ll see you tomorrow.” He stood and walked me to the door.

“Don’t be late. I’ll see you.” Sam waved me off and I headed down the street.

About half a year later while sorting through some archive files, I came across Peggy Carter. I felt a pang in my heart as I stared at the photo of her standing next to Howard Stark. Other than Steve and Bucky, those two were my closest friends. I fell down a rabbit hole after that, finding any information on the two that I could find. They had both helped found SHIELD in 1965, they had both gotten married and had children of their own. Peggy's children had stayed out of the public eye, but in true Stark fashion, Howard’s son evidently took over the family business and was living the high life. I pulled out a newspaper from the stack I had on the table in front of me and was shocked at what I saw. The title read ‘Howard and Maria Stark Die in Car Accident’, I knew Howard most likely wasn’t alive anymore but seeing the photographs of the wrecked car in the newspaper cast a somber mood through the room.

I laid the paper down on the table and ruffled through more of the papers before determining that we had no information on if Peggy was alive or not. That sent me into a frenzy of looking through phone books to try and find her and calling every retirement home in DC that I could. The only lead I had to go off of was a small interview from a newspaper, talking to Peggy about the seventieth anniversary of V-E Day, stated that she was living in Washington, DC.

After eight failed calls, finally, on the ninth, I had finally found a home which had a Peggy Carter as a residence in room 204. I rushed to pack up my things and left my office early. I ran down the back hallways as fast as I could without drawing too much attention. When I made it out of the building I ran full speed to the road to hail a cab.

Amazingly the traffic was almost nonexistent and I made it to the retirement home in only ten minutes. I fumbled out of the cab and I raced through the front doors of the building. I must have startled the women at the front desk because as soon as I rounded the corner to the staircase, they were yelling after me. I took the steps three at a time in my haste to get to the second floor. I stopped running when I was outside of room 204. I couldn’t see anything clearly through the frosted window so I knocked hesitantly and slowly opened the door and stepped in.

There in the middle of the room, against the wall was a single bed. A woman laid there quietly with her eyes closed. The closer I came to her the more familiar she looked. I let out a relieved gush of breath. There she was, older now, but still the Peggy I once knew. I nervously grabbed one of the chairs in the corner of the room and brought it over to her bedside so I could sit. Gently I gave her a small tap on the hand before just holding it in mine. She stirred but her eyes never opened.

All of a sudden one of the nurses from downstairs came into the room, with an angry and shocked expression.

“Ma’am, You can't be in here. If you want to see a patient, you have to sign in.” I ignored her, my eyes trained on Peggy's face. The commotion of the woman barging into the room had made her open her eyes and look around. I just watched as she scanned the room, first to the door on the left, to the wall in front of her, past me sitting on her right, then to the window behind me.” Her brows raised and she lifted her hands to her eyes to rub. The shock on her face was evident as she turned her head to stare directly at me.

“Hey Carter, long time no see huh?” I gave her the biggest smile that I could.

“Is it really you?” She reached her hand out to mine and grabbed hold.

“It is, it’s really me.”

“Ma’am, I mean it, you can't be here.” The nurse tried again, this time Peggy shot her a glare.

“Ms. I’ll have you know this is one of my best friends and she can be in here if she wants to. Now leave us alone.” The young nurse nodded her head and rushed out, even in old age she could still put on that commanding tone that struck fear in every man. She slowly turned back to me, almost like if she looked back for me, I would be gone. “How? How are you here?”

“It’s a long story Peg, are you sure you want to hear it?”

“Look where I am, I have nothing but time.” She laughed out and I let out my own small laugh as I shook my head.

In addition to what I had been doing, like hanging out with Sam, after that first visit, I made it a priority to see Peggy once or twice every two weeks, depending on how she was doing. Dementia had put a lot of stress on her, and seeing me after almost seventy-five years and looking relatively the same as I had when frozen took out a giant toll on her.

And that's how the next 10 months went until Steve eventually moved into an apartment directly under me.

Tag List: @ginger-swag-rapunzel @underc0vercryptid-reads @geek-and-proud @intothesoul @leyannrae @starkleila

[thecheesiestcheese23]

a place that feels like home.

Trust was not so easily given, and Philza Minceraft knew this.

Hell, he raised four children that held their own trust issues. He spent years cracking away at them for them to finally feel safe enough to sleep in the same room with him and to turn their backs to him.

So why did he throw away the bond with two, kill the other, but live with the fourth? He knew very well why he did, he played favorites. He didn’t try to of course, but there was just something about Techno that drew Phil to be with him more than the others. Maybe it was the saying that 'Technoblade Never Dies' that he could relate to as ‘The Angel of Death’. Perhaps it was how their childhoods were so similar, where they were taken away from their families and thrown into The Pit, an illegal fight club that wanted to watch blood spill. The most likely thing though, was that they were both fighters.

Wilbur was never a fighter while he lived under Phil's roof, always wanting to hold a pen to write stories than to pick up a sword to spill blood. He was a lovely singer too and could spin melodies from simply plucking the strings of a guitar. Even when he left to make a country and was thrust into an unjust war, he refused to raise his bow unless it was dire.

It was only when his sanity started to deteriorate did he start to raise his sword instead of his guitar. And when Phil heard the words of "Kill me Phil -" after he blew up his own country that he shredded blood, sweat, and tears for, did he know his son was truly gone, replaced with this shell of a human.

Tubbo was like a bluebird; innocent and a hard-worker.

Like Wilbur, he never wanted to harm anyone, which was different from his birth father, Schlatt. He would rather spend his time with the bees in the backyard and play with his bee plushie that he was left with in  the box. He loved to spend time in the garden and nurture the flowers that grew alongside the food.

Tommy was a different case from the other two. While yes, he was a fighter, and a feisty one, he wasn’t the best. He was always so brash and loud, letting the enemy know he was coming from miles away. Techno was much more reserved and quiet and was deadly and to the point in his attacks. Phil saw him at the wars though, and he saw how much his youngest grew in his fighting.

Phil knew that he was too young to be thrust into these wars, too young to have met the face of Death multiple times by now, and too young to have been betrayed by nearly everyone he knew.

But, Phil sighed, there was nothing he could do about it now. The bonds he once had were shattered beyond repair and the three probably hated him by now. The only thing he could do now was to ask Ranboo if he needed a place to stay.

He had given Ranboo one of his feathers days after Techno’s execution, a way of communication that wasn’t able to be tracked by Dream. Phil had seen how the boy had been unwilling to pull the lever and was even hesitant to place Phil under house arrest.

He quickly searched through his satchel looking for the feather that was the main cell. Once he did, he quickly double-tapped the circle that rested at the top and scrolled through the contacts list. There were people from the Antarctic Empire, Ranboo, and then there was his family, Tubbo, Tommy, Fundy, Wilbur, and Techno.

Phil could only hope that Ranboo hadn’t left the feather in his house as the explosions fell down into what once was L’manburg.

With tense shoulders, he pressed the call button.

---

The dripping of water was the only thing that could be heard within the obsidian room beside the shaky breaths of a curled figure who was in one of the back corners.

A cat, Enderchest, meowed, disrupting the silence and rubbing against the leg of their owner in an attempt of comfort. Ranboo could only stare at his memory book as the feather in his hand hovered over the names of the people who were once his friends.

“I . . . I don’t have anyone left . . .” The book was shut with a slam, the title shinning against the lighting that the crying obsidian gave off.

“But,” a shaky sigh escaped through his lips. “I can’t forget them, otherwise I’m just giving up, and if I give up. . .” He stood abruptly which only succeeded in him collapsing down once more due to his unsteady legs.

“Then I’m just weak.”

The feather in his hand crackled to life, startling him before a familiar voice could be heard echoing around the small room. “Hey, Ranboo!”

“Hi, Phil.” The unshed tears in his eyes shone brighter as his voice wavered.

“Did you make it out okay?” Phil sounded concerned for him, for some reason that Ranboo could not fathom.

“Yeah, I’m still alive.” The smell of smoke was strong, even when he was far away from L’manburg. Some part of Ranboo’s mind wondered how long it would last.

“Good, good, where are you right now?”

“Uhm, I’m gonna be in L’manburg soon.” All Ranboo needed to do now was to pull himself out of this funk.

“Okay, good.” The rustling of a wing could be heard. “Do you need a place to stay or are you good?” Ranboo was caught off-guard by this question as images of his destroyed home flashed through his head.

“I- I think I do need a place to stay.” Ranboo sheepishly admitted, pulling himself up from the floor and balancing himself.

“Yeah? What’s been going on with you, by the way? ‘Cause like, we haven’t spoken in a bit, and I- I know that book was very precious to you, but I- I didn’t know exactly why.”

“Oh, it uh, keeps who my friends are in it, so I don’t forget, cause you know I have very bad memory issues.” His armor was put back on in a couple of seconds and he traveled back outside. “So, uh, I keep all of my friendships in the book, which is - has, changed quite a bit from today so I might need to update it.” The Panic Room was covered up once more. “I’ll be in L’manburg in a second- or what used to be. I’ll be in the big hole in a second.”

“I can get there, I can get there. Give me time, give me time.”

Silence fell between the two as they both traveled to the same destination and Ranboo wondered who was going to be the one to break it.

“So where did you go? Were you still around? ‘Cause it was hectic.”

“Yeah, I had a wither chasing me the entire time, so I kinda couldn’t just leave.”

A sharp intake of breath. “Yeah, sorry about that-”

“Oh, it’s okay-” Laughter could be heard from the two males.

“Are you in L’manburg now, by the way?” Phil asked.

Ranboo looked around, confirming his whereabouts. “Oh, uh, yeah, I’m next to the staircase that leads up to the Prime Path.”

“Alright, let me see if I can aim this. It might be off though.” A whoosh of the trident, ad Phil was standing right in front of him, his damaged wing tucked safely against his back. Ranboo hadn’t heard the full story, but from the information he gathered, one of his wings was singed beyond repair and was just dead weight on his back from protecting Wilbur from the heat of the blast. “Oh, this staircase has seen better days.”

That elicited a chuckle out of the taller male. “A lot of this place has seen better days, in case you didn’t realize.” They traversed up the pathway, twisting and turning through the multitude of wooden slabs beneath their feet.

“It’s fine, we needed a change. It had to be done.” Phil waved it off.

“Yeah, actually. I kind of understand why.”

“You got everything you need?” Ranboo skimmed through his inventory.

“Yeah, actually. I had all of my mending books in a secret barrel in my house but I guess I’m not getting those.” Ranboo grimaced at the thought.

They conversed for a while longer, traveling through the Nether before arriving at and entering into Techno’s and Phil’s home.

“Yeah, so you can stay here until we can start working on your house.” Phil gestured to the couch. “I was thinking of building it next to the mountain that’s behind the house, so it would be somewhat ingrained into the mountain but not fully.”

Ranboo could only just nod, not able to fully express his gratitude besides a simple “Thank you.”

Phil smiled at Ranboo. “It’s not a problem mate. It’s the least I could do after destroying your only house. Get some rest, yeah? I should also tell Techno you’re here so he won’t immediately kill you as soon as he sees you.”

Ranboo chuckled nervously. “Oh yeah, that sounds good.”

“Yeah, I’ve got to get going, you’ll be okay on your own, right?” Phil stopped his shuffling to look at Ranboo, and to his relief, avoided eye contact. “Yeah, I’ll be fine. Thank you, again.” Ranboo shited where he stood, opting to stare at the floor.

“As I’ve said before, it’s not a problem mate. I’ll be out for a while, and Techno should be back before I will, bye Ranboo!”

“Bye Phil!”

---

Techno trudged into his house, closing the door behind him before he collapsed against it, the roughed up edges of his armor digging into the wood. His sword rested limply in his hand as he let his body relax. He would definitely have to wash his sword from the blood that stained it.

He pushed away from the door with a groan. The satchels of potions landed on the floors and counters with a thump. He looked around before he spotted a lump laying down on the couch. Techno immediately tensed up, the grip on his blade tightening.

He swiftly but silently went over, his guard never slipping. His sword was raised, ready to be brought down on the intruder, but Techno then saw his face.

It was Ranboo, the kid that Phil had a soft spot for. He blinked a few times before he checked the feather that was clasped to a gold chain and that hung around his neck. He scrolled through a couple of messages, seeing some from Ghostbur, spam from Tommy, and one from both Fundy and Phil.

He clicked on the notification and read what laid before him.

<Ph1lZa whispered to you: I’m letting Ranboo stay with us for the next few days until we can get a new house built for him. I hope that isn’t too much of a hassle. Talk to you soon Tech!>

Techno huffed in response, but put down his sword and slid it back into it’s seath. The feather was then nestled back to where it once was before, and as he was doing that, Techno saw that Ranboo was shivering.

The couch could barely hold him and the blankets he had didn’t seem to be doing much for him. Techno grumbled as he made up his decision. He swiftly picked Ranboo up and brought him up the ladder, careful not to awaken him or disturb him as they made the trip upstairs.

Ranboo was softly placed on the older’s bed, the red cloak that once rested upon Techno’s shoulders was instead acting as a makesift blanket for the taller.

E

Technosoft!

/rainbowchat

Caringblade

Technosoft

mic muted!

Technosoft

Technosoft

E

E

Technosoft

Technosoft

“Shut up Chat, I am not going soft for this kid.” Techno grumbled.

E

Throw him out! He’s only gonna hurt us like Tommy did!

Tsundereblade!

Tsundereblade!

Blood!

Techno only sighed in response before he went back downstairs, ignoring Chat as he headed over to the couch and placed his sword next to him.

“Goodnight Chat.”

Night!

Gnight!

goodnight !

E

Techno shut his eyes, and let his body rest.

[fulokis]

Fulokis WandaVision Rewrite- Chapter 1

Hey wanted to take my two cents at something that made more sense than what they actually did to quicksilver. Hope you like it!

Peter stood staring at the man in front of him. He hadn't spoken for what seemed like a few minutes, still processing what Peter had told him. Peter sighed, he hadn't meant to let it slip, he still wasn't sure how it had happened. One minute the two were arguing with each other and then the next the room was enveloped in an awkward silence.

"Why didn't you want to tell me?" Erik asked. He had assumed that Peter was his son since the Pentagon, but he didn't want to freak the kid out.

"Just forget it." Peter said quickly trying to bury his feelings in his chest.

"Pietro, why didn't you want to tell me?" Erik asked knowing he was pushing.

Peter looked down at the floor, "I haven't been called that since the Cuban Missile crisis. Not even in the house."

"Those damn soviets am I right?" Erik attempted to joke.

"No." Peter said, "It was so that me and Wanda could go to school without getting harassed. So we could live life. So that we could protect ourselves when we didn't have a father to protect us."

"Wanda?" Erik asked, "Peter if I had known..."

"But you didn't because you left. You left and Wanda died!" Peter said, surprised at his own reaction and his anger. "Not because of the Russians, not because of the Americans, because of you. Because you left us, Wanda died. You know what killed her Bullets. Bullets from guns. Both things made of Metal! You could have stopped them, you could have saved her. But you were too busy killing the president to care about your family."

"Peter..."

"No. It's too late for that." Peter said storming out of the mansion.

Peter ran. He always ran, it helped him think. But all he could think about was his twin sister, her body laying there on the pavement. Him helpless to do anything. That's why he'd developed speed, he was too late, and running became an obsession. When his mother had gone into labor with Lorna his powers developed. He didn't even realize that they had until he was sitting by his mothers side in the hospital watching his newborn sister asleep.

Peter stopped running, he was probably an hour's drive from the mansion by now. He looked around his surroundings, he was in New York City. The sounds of horns from angry drivers, and the buzz of the electricity made the night loud and bright. The buildings loomed over head, one caught Peters eyes in particular. It was shorter than the rest only about four stories tall, the most noteworthy feature of its appearance was the large circular window on the top floor. Something about it reminded him of his sister.

Peter walked up to the door, to his surprise it was unlocked. Walking inside he shouted "Hello?"

"Pietro?" He could hear a woman's voice call out.

"How do you know my name?" He asked walking in the direction he heard the voice.

"Because I am the Sorcerer Supreme." The woman replied walking down the right side of the twin staircase that circled the entry room. "I know all Pietro."

Peter looked up at the woman "Yeah, Yeah and every old person claims they know all. Tell me something I haven't heard."

"Wanda is alive, in another universe that is." The sorcerer said finishing descending the stairs, "I can bring you to her."

Peter thought for a second, "How do I know I can trust you? And were you stalking me?"

"I won't force you. But I Think you're curious." She said, "I think you want to know how your sister would have turned out. Who she is." She rose her hand in front of the door and Peter looked through.

A woman stood in front of a cradle singing a lullaby in a language he didn't recognize. She looked up from her children as if almost sensing that he was there. Peter gasped, she had mom's eyes. He chuckled how many times had he seen those eyes look at him with disappointment. But this time they weren't, they were looking towards him with adoration. A look he'd only seen a few times from his mother since Wanda's death. The woman's hair was even the same color he had been jealous he didn't inherit.

"How did you do that?" He asked, unable to take his eyes off of the door.

"With a spell of course." She replied.

"What's that language she's speaking?" Peter asked, watching as someone else appeared on the screen and talking to who he assumed was Wanda.

"It's from a country that does not exist here."

"This isn't possible. You're messing with my..."

"I'm a twin." Wanda said, "I had a brother, his name was Pietro."

"What?" Peter said looking at the Sorcerer Supreme.

"Keep watching Pietro." She said nodding towards the door.

"He was killed by Ultron, wasn't he?" The other woman said.

Peter turned around, "So you're saying that there's this universe where Wanda is alive and I'm dead?"

"Fascinating isn't it?" The woman said, "A universe where you're dead and one where your sister is. Pietro the Multiverse works in strange ways, if anything this is destiny."

"It's fake. It has to be." Peter replied, "There's no way that its real."

"Then how is it possible that your father can bend the electromagnetic fields of the earth to change its polarity? Or that your beloved professor can send a message to the minds of every person on the planet? You know its more than possible Pietro, you know more than anyone how probable it is."

Peter swallowed, "I should go back, they're probably worried about me."

He turned to walk away but the woman stepped in front of him, "We both know they're not. We both know they don't care where you are or what you're doing."

"I should go." Peter said getting choked up thinking about what the woman in front of him was saying. Wanda was there, in another universe, but she was there. There and she clearly loved him and missed him, more than his father had. It wasn't like any of them would miss him if he popped over for a few minutes if only to give her a hug.

"You don't want to go do you?" The woman turned her head inquisitively.

"No." Peter admitted, "Maybe its too late for her here, but there I doubt it is."

"You want to go?" She asked.

"Yeah, so do I just step through this door or like..." Peter asked.

"It's a little more complicated than that." The woman said motioning for him to follow her up the stairs.  Peter followed resisting the urge to use his speed to explore the building. The woman led him to a library that reminded him of the one at the x-mansion. There were books on everything, from simple fake magic tricks to forbidden spells. Peter's eyes were drawn by a particular book. The title was almost impossible to read from the spine, so he picked it up and looked at the cover. The Strange Phenomena of the Witch Blessed Mutants the title read. Peter had seen the book before, strangely not at the mansion but in his own house outside of D.C. "What are you doing?" The woman asked popping right next to Peter.

"What are you doing?" Peter asked her.

"Do you want to see your sister or are you here to snoop?"

"You know more than you're letting on." Peter said, "What aren't you telling me?"

"Pietro, why would you think that?"

"This book, its in the wrong spot. It shouldn't be with the A's it should be with the H's if we're going by last name." Pietro said.

"Oops my bad." The woman said through gritted teeth.

"Either that or you wanted me to find this and its all some part of an elaborate plan to trap me in this other universe for some shady reasons." Peter watched as the woman's face dropped and he smiled, "I'm kidding, lighten up will ya?"

"That's a good one." She said awkwardly throwing up a fake smile, motioning for Peter to follow her. Peter followed her until they got to an open room. "Stand in the middle." She commanded.

"Okay." Peter gulped his anxiety resurfacing. He stepped into the middle of the room and a purple ring surrounded him.

"In order to travel through dimensions you need a protection spell. It keeps you from loosing your mind at the possibilities and the infinite outcomes between dimensions." The woman explained. She threw her hands up slightly and nothing happened.

"Was that supposed to do anything?" Peter asked looking around the room.

The woman ignored his comment and started chanting in Latin. The circle around Peter lit up with a purple glow. Peter attempted to touch it but yanked his hand back when he felt the heat the magic was producing. Peter watched intently and imagined Wanda doing something similar with her magic. The woman pulled out a necklace and made it float near the circle. The necklace began to syphon the energy off the circle, making the air around Peter unbelievably hot. Peter tried to stay conscious but the heat was unbearable and he hit the ground a few seconds later.

The woman kneeled over him and shook him gently. Peter startled looking up in confusion. "Uh..."

"Relax Pietro," The woman said "It's normal to feel overwhelmed by magic, especially when it's your first time."

"First time? Pfft I'm not that lame lady. Least you could do is take me out to dinner first." Peter said attempting to sit up.

"Take it slowly." The woman almost barked "Going to fast could potentially be fatal."

"Fatal? What is there like a list of side effects?"

"All the standard Magical ones." She said standing up, "Nausea, Heart attack, stroke, cancer..."

"I'd have said no if I knew it was going to kill me." Peter said easing onto an elbow.

"Possible side effects darling." She replied flipping through a worn out book.

"Darling? That's a little fast even for me."

She sighed and walked over to him, extending a hand down to help him up. "You should get going, after all your sister is waiting for you."

"Is it weird that I feel like I'm gonna barf?"

"No." She replied to him "Oh before I forget, you'll need to put this on before you go through."

Peter took the necklace and slipped it over his head "And you're sure this will work?"

"Of course it will. My magic never fails." She said and looked at him with a smile leading him down the stairs.

"By the way what's your name? You know if I want to come back home and what not."

The woman stopped dead in her tracks, "I'm... Agnes." She said.

"Coolio." Peter replied following her to the door.

Agnes motioned and the doorway led to a small field, "This is the closest that I can get you, you'll need to run a few miles to the west. There's a wall around the town your sister lives in, it's a security measure against humans harming the perfect little mutant community that lives there."

"So what your saying is my sister has a bunch of mutants that live with her?"

"Yes Pietro, she found her people." Agnes said pushing Peter through the portal and closing it behind him.

Peter fell landing in a mud pile. "Not cool!" He shouted "So not cool." He took a breath and stood up. The night was cool a slight wind blew through the trees. Peter looked around, he had landed in a corn field, the stocks were brown and fragile. He smiled to himself as he saw a scarecrow sitting in front of him.

"You stuck here too buddy?" He asked the limp sack of hay. Before smiling and starting to run. Peter ran and this time instead of thinking he enjoyed the air running across his face. The feeling of his feet hitting the ground, the sounds that each foot made when coming into contact with the mud. Peter kept running until he nearly collided with a military vehicle.

Seeing the vehicle he decided to take a look through the area. There was a drone on a table glowing red. A guy in a quarantine unit, being questioned by medical staff. Peter kept running, there seemed nothing related to mutants anywhere in the facility. He figured that they had no idea that there was a mutant community.

Peter kept running until he found the wall. Taking one look at it he decided to run through it. Running through he could hear and feel some of the most painful times of his life and he stopped as he could feel apocalypse trying to crush his skull. The pain was so real almost like living it again, almost like nearly dying again. Out of breath Peter collapsed on the ground, a new sensation spreading across his body. His body burned, it felt like his blood was causing his body to burn. He could feel the pain everywhere in his body, circular areas burned the most. Then he opened his eyes again and Peter couldn't explain what he saw. Metal corpses littered the ground even more were flying around shooting concentrated fire of some sort. Peter tried to call out to his father, he tried to call out for the professor or someone for help, but all he could feel was the burning hot pain from his injured nerves. Then it was quiet the dust and metal settled and everything was dark, but he could hear someone calling to him. Wanda he thought smiling before passing out.

"My goodness Ralph!" Agnes cried, "You're filthy and tracking mud into my kitchen!"

"Aw cut it out will ya?!" Ralph said back "At least I'm not running around the house getting in your way."

"You're not supposed to be running at all. If they find out you were using your powers..."

"Ha, if they do I'll be long gone."

"I swear it won't be my fault if you end up in prison for twenty." Agnes said.

"It'd be a blessing if I did." Ralph mumbled.

"What was that?" Agnes asked in a shrill tone.

"I said you look lovely tonight."

"Why yes I do don't I?"

"What's the reason?" Ralph asked.

"Of course you forgot! Why did I think you would remember?" Agnes sniped.

"Because you forgot your self?" Ralph offered up.

"Forgot? Ralph you know I don't forget." Agnes said, "Tonight is the night we're having a picnic in the yard. Go clean up."

"Why not just the gazebo in the town square?" Ralph asked after he had run upstairs and changed in a matter of seconds.

"We've been over this Ralph, it's best for you to not draw attention to yourself. Which means..." Agnes prompted.

Ralph sighed "No powers, No criminal activity and most of all no doing things that the people in town will think as of odd. But I'm pretty sure that having a yard picnic would be considered odd, gazebo not so much."

"Ralph people don't care what you do in your own yard, besides if you really are that worried you can tell them I asked you to."

"That's the reason I married you, because you asked me to. Though I do question that decision, what with the creepy basement and all."

"Oh Ralph you charmer." Agnes said leading him out of the house. She walked over to where their yard intersected with the next door neighbors yard. With a wave of her hand she placed down a picnic blanket and a bunch of food.

"'It won't be my fault if you end up in prison for twenty' yeah right, totally won't be your fault if you keep using your powers." Ralph said sarcastically under his breath.

"What was that?" Agnes asked from on the blanket.

"Nothing important." Ralph said.

"Come join me, please." Agnes said, "Look I know the move hasn't been easy on you. Especially since we've literally had to become different people. But Ralph I don't regret it, I can't regret it."

"Eh didn't much like it there anyway, here is nice it's quiet. No trouble for you to get into, no weird sorcerer fights I have to save your ass from."

"I'm still a witch Ralph."

Ralph chuckled and looked up at the stars, "No you're not, you can be anything you want, but not a witch not anymore."

"Do you miss teaching?" Agnes asked eyeing the house behind them.

"Teaching?" Ralph asked vaguely remembering something like it "Feels like a lifetime ago." He said slowly.

"Interesting." Agnes said.

"Huh?" Ralph asked.

"Nothing it's not important."

Ralph shrugged it off and continued looking at the stars in silence, "You ever think how massive the universe is, and how little you really know?"

"Yes I do." Agnes replied keeping focused on the neighbors house.

"I want to know how life got here. On earth I mean. Out the trillions of planets out there, why this tiny hunk?" Ralph said glancing over at Agnes. "What's something you want to know?"

"How she did all this." Agnes said a dark tone seeping into her voice. Agnes turned to face Ralph and started to cast a spell.

"You freak me out when you do that without a warning you know." Ralph said watching her guide the purple energy flowing out of her hands.

Agnes ignored Ralph and continued to chant until the spell was ready. Without warning she shot her magic at the necklace her companion wore, smiling as it hit the beads. Something seemed to stir inside the man and he stood up. Using his super speed he ran to the front door of the neighbors house and stood there.

Peter felt weird, he couldn't remember how long he had been running. Or even how long it had been since he left the mansion. The last thing he could remember before blacking out was his body on fire and hearing Wanda calling to him. He looked down, some how he had managed to change clothes. Instead of his typical jacket he wore a brown one, much like the one he had seen his father wearing every once in a while. His shirt was a purple flower print. He smiled, maybe it was weird to wake up in these random clothes, but at least they had his second favorite color.

Peter looked up at the door. This was it, after nearly 15 years he was about to look his twin sister in the eyes again. Only he knew it wasn't quite his twin sister. Peter swallowed nervous at the action he was about to perform. He rose his hand and considered using his speed to get the nerve wracking action over with. Deciding against it he firmly pressed against the plastic button of the doorbell.

The shouting from inside the house he had heard earlier had been replaced with hushed voices, that were seemingly surprised at a sudden visitor. The door swung open with a creak and a young woman stood in front of it. Peter stood there looking at her, waiting for some semblance of recognition.

"Wanda who is this?" A man from slightly further inside the house asked.

Peter waited for a second before extending his arms out and stepping forward slightly. "Long lost bro get to squeeze his stinkin sister to death or what?"

The woman stared for a second processing what was happening. "Pietro?" Her voice cracked.

Peter made a movement with his head to indicate that it was indeed him. Wanda sighed softly and took her brother in her arms. Peter closed his eyes at his sisters embrace, it felt good to have his second half here in the same room with him. Wanda broke contact and Peter glanced around the house. It was quaint reminded him of their moms house, simple yet useful. Peter locked eyes with the man who asked Wanda for his identity. "Who's the popsicle?"

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