#she has never shown me an ounce of kindness or patience or understanding when it comes to ANYTHING

[tieflingbi]

:)

[lovedsammy]

we walk through the fire; sam/castiel [commission for @avalonsilver]

Commission for @avalonsilver: Sam and Cas talk after the events of 15.09, and Sam reveals a large part of the reason that he couldn’t go through with the plan to give Cas the Mark.

Note: Just to forewarn you guys, there’s mentions of Saileen in this fic, since this is directly after Sam kissed her. I figured some of that had to be brought up before any kind of feelings between Sam and Cas could. So to let everyone know, this is NOT Saileen negative! I ship Saileen as well (though not as extensively, of course) and wanted to be as respectful as possible. I did not want to invalidate any feelings that are there between them, as per canon. I wanted this to be as realistic as possible. 

On that note, enjoy!

-

It shouldn’t have come as any surprise that he’d managed to find a way to let them down again. 

It was what he did best, after all. No matter how hard he tried, he had an incontrovertible ability to screw up, to disappoint the people that he loved most. Everything had come down to him, and Sam had been too weak-willed to go through with it. Neither Cas or Dean speak to him much on the ride back home, and Sam almost wishes that the ground would open up and swallow him. At least that way, he could avoid looking at their crushed, defeated faces. The bullet wound that had been throbbing for months suddenly doesn’t anymore. A quick glance down at his shoulder reveals no injury marring his flesh, only unblemished pale skin. He was, for all intents and purposes, physically whole again. The link between himself and Chuck was gone.

And yet he still felt impossibly tied to him, like a leashed dog, unable to break free of his master. Chuck’s hand was lazily holding the length of rope, giving him the choice to run. But it was only for show; Sam wouldn’t, because the fear kept him secured in place.

They’d reached a dead-end in how to handle Chuck, with no possible way out.  

It’s almost too similar to Lucifer, the extent of the corner that he’s been backed into. It reminds him all too much of the cave on the alternate earth, and how Lucifer had made him yield then, too. Or when he’d coerced Sam down into Hell, effectively trapping them together. Even as far back as Detroit, when the Devil had made Sam give up his own body, using him to kill and maim. And like Chuck now, always giving Sam a choice - but an impossible one, not ever really a choice at all. 

And never truly by his own will.

What Chuck had shown him…. Sam was sure that it was the truth. How could he not believe otherwise, after what he’d seen? He’s not sure that he would have fully been convinced of the visions Chuck had shared with him if it weren’t for the fact that the very reality he’d been trying to deny hadn’t been about to come to pass. Castiel, readying himself to take on the Mark… that had pulled the rug out from under Sam. It cemented it all, everything he’d seen, as reality. The horror of the inevitability of the future he was trying to fight, along with the fate of his friend, and later everyone else - it had made him pause. The blossom had been clenched in his fist and he’d been seconds away from grinding it to dust.

But he couldn’t. Not with what it would cost, what it would lead to.

Not if it meant losing Cas to himself, to the same dark impulses that had almost taken his brother from him. Losing Cas, right after losing his mother and Jack… it would be too much to bear.

So he’d fallen to his knees, submitting himself to Chuck’s twisted will and his own helplessness. 

Not long after they get back, and Sam’s changed out of his blood-stained shirt, he bids Eileen goodbye - yet another painful, awful choice - and closes his eyes, taking a bracing breath. His body feels like lead as he goes to find his brother and Cas, heavy and weighted. He doesn’t know how he will be able to look at them, much less try and explain what had happened, and why he’d forsaken them when they’d needed him the most. But somehow, standing in the archway, he finds the words. Surprisingly, it’s good enough for Dean, and seemingly, Cas, as well. They’d find a new way, together, just like they always did. And yet, even after his brother decides to call it a night, leaving him with a comforting pat on the cheek, Sam remains in the same position, staring at the floor. 

“Sam?” 

Cas is waiting for him to talk, to say what he has to. After eleven years of friendship, the angel knows him well enough by now to know when there was something else being left unsaid, and when Sam had something more that he needed to express. And like always, he was patiently waiting for whatever that was. Patience was the one thing that Cas did better than anyone else he’d ever known. Living for eternity (well, not always - Cas had died almost as many times as they had now) would do that, Sam surmises.

The horror of losing Castiel in the future had hit him much harder than he’d ever expected. He’d grieved Cas before, had lost him almost as much as he had Dean. But knowing he was gone, hearing the words from his future self, it had shattered his world. As he passed through each vision, Sam had carried the agony of Cas’s absence with him like the cloth clinging to his skin, attached to his very being.

Sitting in the car, hearing the words that Cas wasn’t there anymore… he’d felt like he couldn’t breathe.    

“I just couldn’t do it,” He rasps after an endlessly long moment when he’s sure that Dean is out of earshot. He slowly raises guilty eyes to fixate on Cas. “I’m sorry.”

Cas frowns at him, eyes soft. “It’s all right. You don’t have to explain it, Sam. If what he showed you was convincing enough to be true to you, then I’m inclined to agree that it is. In the end, I’m sure that you made the right choice.” 

There’s no judgment in Cas’s voice, but Sam feels the need to explain himself fully, anyway. He wants Cas to understand, to know just what it was that had scared him so badly. 

“The future that Chuck showed me,” He starts, slowly making his way over to the table. “Cas, I couldn’t do it because… not just because of Jody, and the world, or me and Dean and what happened with us. But also because of what happened to you.”

Cas nods slowly, looking nonplussed. “I died.” 

It’s not so much the words Cas says as it is the way the angel delivers them - without an ounce of surprise or horror, more of resignation. Sam jerks his head. When had they all stopped being affected at the prospect of their own deaths?

“No. You didn’t die, not technically. It’s worse, way worse.” With a watery exhale, he goes to sit down on the seat in front of the angel. His legs feel weak and unsteady, palms clammy with anxious sweat as he steels himself. “Cas… you took on the Mark of Cain. And after you did… just like Dean, you got worse and worse. Until you weren’t you anymore. After a while we, uh ... we had to lock you in the Malach Box. And it destroyed us. It destroyed me. So when I saw you come in holding that flower, it all made sense. It clicked for me. I knew it had something to do with the Mark. That was the future we were heading toward. And seeing you… I just… I couldn’t do it.”

Now Cas looks thunderstruck. He leans forward. “But the Mark shouldn’t have been able to overpower me like it did your brother. That is… concerning.”

“Exactly,” Sam says desperately. “But somehow it did. Don’t you see? The game was rigged from the beginning, man. No matter what plan we had, no matter how many steps ahead we thought we were, he would’ve made it cost us something - or everything. We’re riding a tidal wave, and there’s nothing to keep us from being pulled under.”

He takes a short pause and continues. “I just couldn’t lose you, Cas. Not to that future. Not like we lost Claire and Donna and Jody and everyone else. Losing you was the hardest thing I’ve ever faced besides losing Dean or Jack. I still don’t know how I tried to keep going after that. Dean couldn’t. I just tried to tell myself that it would all be worth it in the end as long as we won. But it wasn’t. No future is a win if you’re not there, too.” 

Sam could swear that for a moment there was moisture in Castiel’s eyes. But he blinks and it’s gone as quickly as it appeared. Cas’s features are once again collected and smooth whereas Sam’s are twisted in sorrow. “Sam… even if that future came to pass for me, it wouldn’t have been the end for you. It still isn’t. You could still find a way to be happy. You’d still have Dean. You’d still have Eileen.”

It’s said without any hint of jealousy, or anger, or bitterness, and the mention of her makes Sam’s heart clench, and he swallows. He knows the significance of what it is Cas is telling him. Before the loss of Jack’s soul and Chuck’s dark reveal to them, he and Cas had been dancing around each other for months. They were always on the precipice of saying something, but the timing had never been right. And it’d hung silently between them, the chasm that both of them were too hesitant to cross. So when Eileen had shown back up, and she and Sam had started growing closer, he hadn’t at all missed Cas’s longing, sorrowful expressions when he saw the two of them together. Sam had just figured that whatever it was that had previously been brewing between himself and the angel had quietly dissolved after Cas left. So Sam had seen fit to move on, thinking that Cas had wanted to do the same. 

Castiel hadn’t, though. And now Sam was getting frustrated that the angel had not only done anything about it prior to this open acknowledgment but also still seemed intent not to.

“So that’s it?” Sam demands, without any real vigor, only sadness. “These past few weeks, what… you think I missed it, Cas? I saw you. I saw what it was doing to you. You can’t just make it clear to me how you feel now and then just expect me to forget that.” 

Castiel shrugs. “You’re happy when you’re with her, Sam. Dean even said as much. That’s something that I could never give you. But it’s everything that I could want for you.” 

Sam takes a moment to reflect on Cas’s words. “Had I not seen those visions, and we trapped Chuck, and we won… and Eileen and I… you would’ve still never really told me, would you?” He asks. “You would’ve seriously said nothing, and made me think that all the time we spent together never mattered?”

“I’m not saying that,” Cas replies gently, reaching out to grasp Sam’s hand across the table. “Of course it mattered. It still does, Sam. I just didn’t want to stand in the way of your happiness. You’ve already lost so much, and sacrificed so much. I couldn’t ask you to do it again. Eileen is a wonderful woman. She’s strong, smart, and has a very protective side to her when it comes to you.” 

Sam shakes his head. “It’s my choice to make, Cas. I feel something for Eileen. I really do. But she left, and she left because she doesn’t know how much of what we feel for each other has been manipulated by Chuck and what’s real. I know a little something about that, wondering what’s real and what’s not. And maybe one day, when we’re both sure, we can try again, and see what happens. But until then, it’s my decision to make about how I feel about other people. I already know how I feel about you, how I’ve always felt about you. And what that means.”

Cas’s thumb rubs smooth circles on Sam’s hand, and the edges of his lips quirk. “I don’t think Chuck has ever really cared about what direction I go in, or ever made a conscious effort to push me towards something or another. Unfortunately for him, that direction’s towards you.  Thank you, Sam.” 

“For what?” Sam croaks, his heart hammering in his throat.  

“For saving me from a fate worse than death,” The angel smiles. “I know that the weight of what you saw was horrible for you. I’m sorry you had to experience that. Your brother’s right, however. We are going to find another way to defeat Chuck, and hopefully not get killed in the process.” 

Sam doesn’t share the same positive outlook that Castiel does, but seeing the sparkle returning to the angel’s eyes makes him tempted to believe it. “I hope so,” He says, holding Cas’s hand a little tighter. “Because I can’t - I won’t - lose anything else. Not Dean, and not you.”

He wants to cling to the angel with everything he has, vengeful God be damned. 

[andtheserpentsays]

Where You Are - ChevLotte

Collection of sequenced drabbles, bridging the gap between S2 and S3 and exploring how their friendship developed.  I’ve written SO many of these, but they’re kind of different to what I’d do normally, so.. ?  Let me know if there’s any interest in the rest of them.  

Notes: There’s mentions of drinking whilst pregnant, because we’re talking about a time when champagne treated morning sickness...  Also, historical Liselotte was brutally unkind about Maintenon in her letters, so bear that in mind.

Where You Are

i.

‘You just need to get to know him.’

Phillipe had repeated the phrase to her endlessly, and previously Liselotte had wondered how on earth you were meant to get to know somebody who prickled up faster than a surprised hedgehog.  But it was clear that Phillipe loved this man a great deal, and she couldn’t think of a more glowing character reference than that.  So she resolved to try.

As they had watched Phillipe walk out of their lives, Liselotte felt his hand return her squeeze and she knew then that there was hope.  

ii.

The first week after Phillipe’s departure had perhaps been the hardest, and they had both struggled with his absence. The Chevalier hovered at the edge of her life, like he was helplessly drawn to the places that belonged to Phillipe even though he wasn’t in them.

Before the end of the second day Liselotte had already written him three letters. She found herself asking the Chevalier if he wanted to add anything to her latest, but he didn’t move from the sofa he’d been occupying for most of the afternoon. ‘I’ll write my own, thank you.’

‘Well, come on then.’ She swirled her signature before pulling out a fresh sheet of paper. She rose from her desk, waving him towards it as she blew on the damp ink of her letter. ‘They can go with the same rider.’

To her delight, he did as he was told. Liselotte watched him write from her bed, and couldn’t help but wonder what he had to say.

iii.

The truth was, they didn’t really have anybody else.  The two of them may as well have been alone at Versailles: so they continued to gravitate towards each other, either in Phillipe’s rooms or in her own.  

She had gone to Phillipe’s apartments one evening after dinner, on the hunt for a particular book.  Liselotte found the Chevalier flopped back on his bed staring at the canopy, and her eyes were drawn to the dark, smooth lines of a waistcoat she recognised as Phillipe’s.

He huffed out a laugh when she asked what he was doing.  ‘I found myself choosing what he should wear for dinner.  I think I am going mad.’  

His tone was flippant but it made Liselotte’s heart ache, and she wondered how many times he found himself here.  

‘Well if you feel your talents are wasted, there’s always my wardrobe. Lord knows I need the help.’

With that appeal to his vanity her toe was in the door, and she couldn’t help but feel pleased with herself when he’d agreed.  She soon found there was no true malice in his bluster and that he actually seemed to take great pride in making her look.. presentable.  A new lady made her way into her entourage, poached from somebody else no doubt, and she heard a glowing report on her talent for styling hair.

It became the first of many routines they would share: the Chevalier was there without fail, dressing her for the mornings, for the salon in the afternoon and the evening tables.  

iv.

As the infant grew, Liselotte had quite loudly refused to cave in to the popular fashion for disguising her changing shape.  She’d argued with her ladies, pointing out that people had been so interested in Phillipe performing that she wasn’t about to disguise the results of his efforts.  Montespan could keep her battantes, Liselotte had nothing to hide.

One afternoon she returned from the garden to find an unfamiliar girl in her rooms, hunched over one of her dresses in the light of the window.  Liselotte didn’t get a chance to question her, as the Chevalier spoke up from a sofa.

‘She’s adding panels, for the baby.  They can be taken out again afterwards if you want.’

‘You are.. a marvel.’

He chose her evening’s ensemble from one of her newly amended pieces, only today he didn’t leave once his decisions had been made. Instead the Chevalier lingered in her day room, and once dressed she found him there, nosing through various things on her table without an ounce of shame.   He gave her a brief once-over before tucking her hand into his arm.  

‘Come on then, or we shall be late.’

‘We? We’re going.. together?’

‘You can go on your own if you like.’  Her fingers were already slipping from the crook of his elbow, and Liselotte tugged him back to her which was apparently a satisfactory response.

If he noticed the raised eyebrows they met on their way he didn’t comment, and it was hard to tell what they were more surprised by: their pairing, or the perfect bump that was really very obvious.  For once Liselotte enjoyed her scandal, and let him seat her at a table before joining her.  He proved to be a magnificent accomplice when it came to fleecing their companions.  She showed him her aunt’s preferred method for cheating and he taught her a quinze drinking game of Phillipe’s invention.  

They awoke the next morning in Phillipe’s bed fully dressed, right down to their shoes and her hairpins.  Even in their stupor they’d gravitated towards him.  

Liselotte had needed his full assistance to heave herself out of the bed, and was unashamed as he helped unlace her bodice to give her pregnancy bump more room to breathe.  The expression on the faces of her ladies as the Chevalier returned her to her own rooms had almost been worth the headache.  

v.

Liselotte’s unborn infant was beginning to try and make his presence known, especially when she was either trying to sleep or make conversation. Or breathe, it seemed.  She tried not to consider that this could signal her impending confinement, and instead tried to guess whether she was being elbowed or kicked.

‘You must come and feel it.’  Maybe that was a headbutt?

‘Oh no, my dear.  I shall just believe you.’

‘No, come on.  Phillipe isn’t here, you’ll have to do this for him.’ She held her hand out and waited.  She didn’t say anything when he huffed a sigh but she knew that the tutting sound as he sat beside her was for dramatic effect.  Liselotte arranged his palm carefully, pressing it beneath her own as they waited.  The Chevalier’s patience was as short as she expected.

‘I can’t feel-’  He had barely begun to speak when her baby lurched, and a limb (definitely an elbow) made itself known.  Liselotte smiled and squeezed the hand under her own.  

‘See, he knows you.  Already can’t let down his Uncle Phillipe.’

The punch line of ‘like his father’ hung between them, but neither voiced it.  Phillipe had once felt like he was the literal stitching holding them both together, but Liselotte was not ashamed to admit that she had now claimed a piece of the Chevalier all to herself. And she was rather fond of it.

vi.

The sun had barely set on the first day of Liselotte’s confinement, and she was already convinced she was going to perish from the boredom of it all.  She had secretly hoped to have been allowed a modicum of freedom, especially considering her husband wasn’t here to boss her about.  Sadly Liselotte had forgotten quite how meddlesome her brother-in-law could be.

‘Sister, I insist.’  Louis had grasped her hands tightly, and deployed his most earnest of gazes.  ‘My brother would never forgive me, it is my duty to ensure you and your baby are safe.’

The Chevalier did not disguise his noise of disgust at the words.  He’d had his fill of the Bourbon brothers and their ‘duty’ lately, and it caused only the briefest of flickers in Louis’ expression.

‘I understand, truly.’ She gently, but firmly, extricated her hand from his grasp and patted his sleeve.  ‘But surely, there’d be no harm in pottering around the gardens once or twice?’

Judging by the look on his face (the king’s face, she reminded herself), there apparently was.

And so she had just passed a thrilling day of staring at her own feet over the bump of her nightgown, and half wondering if anybody would come and see her.  Liselotte was especially disappointed that the Chevalier hadn’t shown his face yet.  It would be frowned upon, after all, so an illegal visit should have been right up his street.

Her hopes were dashed when the door creaked open only to have Maintenon appear.  Liselotte wondered if going mad from loneliness might not be so bad, especially when she suspected she was probably snooping on her behaviour for the king.

‘He’s under the bed.’

‘I’m sure I don’t understand.’

‘The Chevalier, he’s under the bed.’  

Her eyebrows had promptly shot to the top of her rather smug forehead. Liselotte made a great point of saying nothing further for a long time, instead choosing a single grape with great care before changing the subject.  Watching Maintenon resist the urge to clamber to the floor and look under the bed, whilst maintaining polite conversation, was the most fun she’d had in a while.

vii. The next afternoon, after another morning of toe inspection and intense hair brushing, one of her ladies scurried in with a tiny, well-folded note.  She’d thrust it into Liselotte’s hand as if it was on fire, curtsied, and then escaped.

As she unfolded it Liselotte instantly recognised the Chevalier’s immaculate penmanship, and made a mental note to ask him what notes he’d made the poor girl carry before.

‘My dear, I’m so terribly bored.  Have you produced a son yet?  Nobody at the tables has the slightest idea how to cheat properly, I think I’m going to go mad.’

‘Oh, I’m fine, thank you for asking.’  

‘The uncle is a snooper.  I’m going to give the old drab another day before she gets bored, then I shall come liberate you.’

Liselotte crushed the letter in her hands and smiled.

viii.

The Chevalier was correct in his suspicions.  Madame de Maintenon endured only one further day of Liselotte’s teasing before she failed to reappear, and the Chevalier swept into her dim chamber in the hour before dinner.  At least she thought that’s what the hour was, it was getting difficult to tell.

‘Goodness, it’s like a crypt in here.’

‘I hadn’t noticed.’

He took a moment to toe off his shoes before coming to sit on the bed beside her.  ‘I brought you a gift.  Something you should most definitely not be reading, rather excitable.’  He tossed it into her waiting hands.  ‘Particularly after chapter five.’

There was also a deck of playing cards that he had smuggled.  One of his own marked decks she was certain, but Liselotte was not in a position to be choosy.  She couldn’t help but smile, turning her face to him like he’d hung the moon.

‘Thank you.’

[flslp87]

A Family Addition for Captain Swan - Ultrasound 

Having a baby can bring every emotion from exhilaration to terror.  Come along on the journey with Emma and Killian as they experience all the emotions that creating a new life can elicit.  Chapter 1- Pregnant -Emma’s POV - here, Chapter 2 - Pregnant - Killian’s POV - here, Chapter 3 - First Doctor’s Visit - Emma’s POV - here, Chapter 4 -First Doctor’s Visit- Killian’s POV - here, Chapter 5 -Heartbeat - Emma’s POV - here, Chapter 6 - Heartbeat - Killian’s POV - here ; Chapter 7 - First Movement - here; Chapter 8 - Ultrasound - here;   Chapter 9 - Cravings - here; Chapter 10 - Delivery - here.     

It can also be found on FF as well as on AO3. 

Thanks @duathadun for the lovely aesthetic and @hellomommanerd for beta duty. 

Words - ~2900        Rating - fluff

Ultrasound 

When they arrived for their ultrasound appointment, they were pleased to discover that they would be next and their wait time wouldn't be long.  Once Emma's name was called, they were greeted by an older woman who introduced herself as Margie, the technician, who led them into a special room with a bed, chair, and the ultrasound device.   It looked kind of like a robot on wheels Emma thought, with a large monitor, a base with buttons and dials, and the bottom was similar to a desktop with plugs and cords going in several directions.  Next to the device was a small table holding folded towels and sheets and bottles of some liquid.  When she glanced up a Killian, Emma had to smirk at the look on his face as he gazed around the room, and wondered what he was thinking,  "Are you ready?" She took hold of his hand as much to comfort him as it was to herself.  

"Aye, love," he smiled down at her, "are you?" 

"Nervous, excited, scared, anxious.  Shall I go on?" She shared hesitantly. 

"There's nothing to be scared of Emma. Our baby will be just fine." And the sincerity with which he said the words immediately calmed her nerves. 

"Promise?" 

He kissed her tenderly, "Promise.  Now up with you."   He helped her up onto the table and to lie back and then moved to her side while the technician bustled around them.

As Margie was positioning Emma on the table and tucking towels in the top of her pants and along the bottom of her shirt to prevent them from getting wet with the gel, she was also asking questions.  Sitting down behind the monitor, she put in Emma's name and the date. "How many weeks pregnant are you?" 

Emma smiled at Killian, "Sixteen."

"And I understand that you are still feeling a large amount of sickness with this pregnancy.  Is that correct?" Emma confirmed this before the woman moved on.  "Alright, I believe I have all the information." She stood up and turned down the lights and then started adjusting the dials again. "Just a brief overview for you two of how an ultrasound works. I will be using this," she held up a part of the machine, "and when I place it on your stomach it will send sound waves, and the sound waves bouncing back to me will give us a picture of your baby.  Here we go." 

Emma could feel her rubbing the wand around on her stomach while at the same time she could see her twisting the knobs on the machine.  While her view of the monitor was not unobstructed completely, she could see shadows coming and going on the screen.  The technician moved the wand, and by the way she leaned forward to get a closer look at the monitor, must have locked in on something. After readjusting the wand and then looking closely again, she sat back quickly, "Oh!"  And looked at Emma in surprise.

Her interjection caused Emma to glance quickly up at Killian. "Oh?  What oh?" She questioned the woman, concerned at what could cause such a response.

Margie tilted her head giving them a contemplative look. "You've heard the heartbeat, right?  Felt the baby moving?" 

Emma’s brain seemed to be operating in such slow motion as she couldn't even formulate her thoughts. She was happy when Killian answered, "Yes to both of those questions. Tell us what you see." He was getting agitated, which was not only apparent in his body language but in his clipped pronunciation.  

Margie turned back to the monitor and once again moved the wand around on Emma’s stomach and with her other hand positioned the monitor so Emma could see it from her reclined position. "Why don't you take a look?" She turned the monitor a little more so Emma could see it clearly. 

When Emma saw the screen, she felt her eyes widen and opened and closed her mouth several times, trying to get the words out.  Not wanting to jump to conclusions, she looked at the technician for confirmation and once she had that, her eyes were drawn right back to the screen.  Time froze as did all words and the only thing she could say was, "Oh."  A simple interjection, but one that conveyed all her emotions; fear, amazement, excitement and love, all running through her system at the same time.  

~~~CS~~~

While the woman was moving around the room, Killian had been listening with only half an ear as he studied the machine that would show them that their baby was healthy and growing normally.  Anything less was not even an option as far as he was concerned.  His only introduction to such a machine had been the picture that Robin had shown him of his baby with the Wicked Witch and his attention at the time had been on saving Emma.  How anyone could look at those cloudy patches and see a baby, he was unsure, but if this test could give them a reason as to why Emma was still feeling ill, then he was ready.  

When the technician had said "Oh,” Killian instantly went on alert and after she gave no further explanation, he headed straight into agitation, but when Emma had looked at the screen and muttered the same syllable with so many emotions being conveyed at the same time, his patience ran out. "Will someone tell me what the bloody hell is going on here?" 

Emma, her eyes wet with tears, took hold of his hand, "Oh, Killian. Look." She pointed toward the monitor.  

Margie turned the monitor more in his direction and as he looked at the screen, he still felt unsure of what he was seeing.  "Show me," he finally instructed the technician when he got tired of trying to decipher the picture himself.

She pointed at the screen. "See here? That's your baby." 

As soon as she uttered the words, he could make out the tiny blip that was their child.  Reaching toward the monitor, he placed his finger over the pulsing heart, so tiny and fragile.  But she didn't stop and allow him to savor the moment. "And over here," she pointed to an area just behind, "is your other baby." 

He cut his eyes from the monitor, to the technician and then to Emma, shock evident on his face.  She had tears in hers and hadn't said anything since telling him to look, and now...now he completely understood the meaning behind that one word.  He was a man who prided himself on his eloquent vocabulary but at this moment in time, none of those words felt adequate and all he could think to say was, "Oh," before his legs refused to hold him any longer and he sank down into the chair behind him.  

Nothing was said for several minutes while thoughts ran around in his mind and by the look on Emma's face, she was in the same state.  "There are two in there?" He looked at his wife and then down at her stomach where their children lay. "Two?"

She squeezed his arm as the tears leaked from her eyes. "We're having twins, Killian.  How will we handle twins?"

"The same way we handle everything, Swan, together."  He had heard of twins, of course, but as he had never considered it a possibility, hadn't read much about them.  As he watched the monitor where both fetuses were bouncing around in their little bubbles, the emotions inside of him were running the gamut.  So much joy, but fear too.  Forcibly swallowing the lump in his throat, he questioned the technician, "Does this explain why Emma has been so ill?" 

She stopped what she was doing and gave him her attention, "It certainly can, Captain.  When carrying twins, you have double everything so the sickness can be twice as bad.  In a singleton pregnancy, it is normal for the morning sickness to be subsiding after twelve weeks but for twins...it's often sixteen or eighteen.  Shall we see what else we can learn?"

He almost wished that he could tell the woman to stop what she was doing so they could have time to process the information.  There were too many feelings rolling around in his head and in his heart and he was afraid that what she was saying would lose some of its importance. 

She didn't wait though, just moved on with her mission.   "Your babies are fraternal twins," she told them as she moved the wand around.  "See here?" She pointed to one oblong area, "They are in separate sacs.  Here's one," and then she pointed to the other, hiding almost behind its sibling, "and the second."

"Let me take some measurements and we can see how big they are." 

As she worked, Killian stood there watching the small shapes with their pulsing hearts move around within Emma's womb.  With the amount of movement, they were showing, he could not believe that his wife was laying so still.  He wanted to reach out and touch them just to assure himself that they were real.  His only coherent thought really had to do with the fact that no matter what they were, they already had a piece of his heart.  

The technician explained that Twin A was about 4.5" long and weighed 3.5 ounces and that Twin B was 4.3" long and weighed 3.3 ounces.   "To give you an idea of how big they are, imagine holding an avocado in each hand."

Killian closed his hand in a fist thinking about the comparison of a fetus that size with Emma's brother when he was born.  And the sheer power that little fruit-size being already had on him was almost too overwhelming for words.

Continuing her exploration with her wand, Margie looked up and smiled at Emma. "And would you like to know if you are having girls or boys or one of each?" 

Emma looked up at him, her heart in her eyes, "Babe, do we want to know what we are having?" 

He looked over at the technician, holding her wand in the waiting position. "You're telling me that with that little wand, you can tell us if we are to expect lasses or lads?"

Margie smiled and nodded her head. "That's what I'm telling you, and while periodically a baby can trick me, I'm usually quite accurate."

Did they want to know what to expect?  He wasn't sure, and not having any experience with any of this, and thinking they wouldn’t appreciate it if he took the time to contact David, deferred to his wife.  "Would you like to know, Swan?" 

She lay there for a few seconds chewing on her lip before smiling over at the technician. "Yes, I want to know."

Killian watched as the woman once again put the probe on Emma's stomach and hovered over the fetus she had labeled Twin A.  "I believe Twin A to be a," she hesitated so long Killian wasn't sure she really knew what she was doing, "girl!" she finished, and his heart turned over in his chest and tears sprang to his eyes.  Just like his vision, a lass with Swan's blonde hair and green eyes.

His eyes met Emma's and smiling at her tenderly, he leaned down and gave her a kiss.  "A lass, Swan, did you hear that?" he whispered as he gently wiped away the tear that was running down her cheek.  "Will it be another lass do you think, or a lad?"

She cupped his cheek, "I don't care as long as they're healthy.  Do you care?" 

Shaking his head, no, Killian turned to see what was taking the technician so long as she had been looking at the other baby for a while. Getting a bit impatient, he frowned, "Is there a problem?" 

After she a few more minutes of trying, she pointed out the problem. "See, Twin B here," she pointed to the fetus in its own sac, "it's curled up with its back to us, so I can't quite see what I need to see but, I'm not giving up just yet."  

Killian watched as she tried to get a good picture of the fetus but he was unsure as to why she was having so much difficulty as he could make out the head and the limbs but the closer you got to the center the parts looked the same. "Swan, what is it exactly she is looking for?" he whispered, leaning close to her ear. 

Emma grinned up at him, "Killian, what do you think she's looking for?" Her sparkling eyes gave her away. 

He lifted an eyebrow. "Well if it's what I believe her to be looking for then there is no way the second baby is a boy.  You know there would be no hiding those Jones' men parts." He gave her a saucy wink and a smirk. 

~~~CS~~~

Emma grabbed his arm. "Killian tell me you didn't just brag about your," she lowered her voice, "man parts to the world?”

He raised an eyebrow, "I don't believe I bragged about them to the world.  I only declared that there would be no mistaking them if they could be seen. Therefore, we must be having another lass."

The technician looked over at him, her eyes twinkling. "Well, Captain, if baby B were laying differently, the size of the man parts wouldn't matter, whether they were Jones' man parts or someone else’s.  It all has to do with the baby's positioning."  

Emma looked up at Killian as he opened his mouth to say something else. "Shh, let her do her job."  He didn't respond any further but went back to watching the technician closely. 

After a few more attempts, she relented, "I'm going to tell you what I think, but I must preface it with a disclaimer. Would that be alright?"

Emma smiled and nodded her head. "That's fine. What do you see?"

"Well,” her eyes twinkled, "it's actually what I don't see this time.”

Killian humphed again, "What you're saying is you believe Baby B is another lass, it that correct?"

"Yes, Captain, I'm 90% sure you are going to have two daughters." Finishing what she was doing she cleaned off Emma's stomach and handed them several pictures of the new Jones babies.  "Take your time. I'll be right out front if you need me." 

When she left the room, Emma swung her legs off the table, never taking her eyes off the black and white ultrasound pictures she was holding in her hand.  The longer she stared at them, the blurrier her vision became and when she was in jeopardy of dropping tears onto them, she passed them on to Killian.  

He took the pictures from her, going through them one by one.  After he had looked them over several times, he allowed his arms to fall to his sides and looked up at her with watery eyes. "We've been twice blessed, Swan."

Her emotions still lodged in her throat, she stepped close and they wrapped their arms around each other.  Standing there in his arms, she couldn't tell if the shaking was coming from her or from him.  Eventually, she calmed and stepped back to smile up at him. "Twins?"

Killian placed his palm on her stomach. "Aye, Swan.  There are two in there."  He kissed her tenderly and directed her toward the door. "Shall we ask everyone to meet us at Granny's to tell them the news?"

~~~CS~~~

Emma and Killian stood in front of their family and friends waiting for them to quiet down and as they did she pulled the pictures out of her pocket.  "Killian and I found out what we're having and wanted to share." She held up one picture, "We're having a girl." 

But before she could continue, she was interrupted by her father, "Told you!  Pay up!" He held his hand out to her mother, who calmly laid a twenty in it.

Killian put his arm around her and smirked at her father. "You didn't let your daughter finish mate."

David frowned, "What do you mean?  She said you're having a girl."

"Aye, that she did, but," he held up a picture clearly showing both fetuses, "it seems we're having two girls."

"Ah!" burst out Snow, "Pay up!"

Emma looked up at him and then back at her mother. "You bet that I was having twins?  Seriously?"

Snow shrugged her shoulders. "What can I say, a mom always knows these things."

Emma shook her head and as she went to share the ultrasound pictures with her mother, noticed her father making his way toward her husband.  

~~~CS~~~

"Twins, huh?" 

"Aye, twins." Killian wondered where he was going with the conversation. 

"Two girls, huh?" 

"That's what we were told." 

David didn't say anything for a few minutes, and then just started laughing uncontrollably and walked away.

Killian saw him stop by Granny and overheard him say, "Captain Hook is going to have twin daughters," and then they both burst into laughter. 

"Bloody hell," he whispered before going to find Emma to see if she could explain what was so funny. 

~fin

Thanks for reading and yes, I have twins so this is something I know quite a lot about. 

[benlawwrites]

AGENDAS pt 4

THERESA Theresa closed the door and locked it. But she didn’t leave right away. Instead she watched and listened to the exchange between Martin and Sandra. Sandra? For as long as she could remember, almost twenty years, Theresa had known her as Denise or Mother. She had taken care of Theresa and been a mother to her ever since her birth mother had passed away when she was eight. In that time, no one had called her by any other names but Madame or Denise in Theresa’s presence. Theresa had even grown to call her mom or mother when in the presence of company. She had no idea that she married, or even married to Martin for that matter. Married to Martin? Dead? Theresa knew she would have to wait to get the answers she needed. She looked through the peep hole again to find that Martin and Denise, or was it actually Sandra, had disappeared down the steps together. Theresa went back to her room after cleaning up the potpourri she had dropped earlier. She took another shower and started to get dressed. She discarded the dress she intended to wear, for a pair of house slacks and a camisole. Before Martin showed up, she was supposed to be accompanying Denise/Sandra/Mother to an important meeting. But then the confrontation between Martin and Mother happened. She lay in her bed and turned on the television looking for some kind of distraction, but visions of Martin and Mother kept popping up in her mind. She had to get answers. Frustrated, Theresa got out of her bed and went into the living room to get her cellular phone. She decided to call Mother first. The phone rang twice before it picked up. “Hello.” Theresa inwardly cringed at the sound of Georgia’s voice. It wasn’t that she didn’t like her, but Theresa hated that she always picked up the phone. No matter the time of day or night, it was like she was Mother’s personal body guard, or pit bull or something like that. Georgia was only a year older than Theresa and had been around almost as long as Mother had been. She couldn’t remember the first time she saw or met Georgia. She just showed up and never left. They grew up together. At first she was supposed to be a companion for Theresa, and she would have considered looking at Georgia like a sister if she had ever shown an ounce of personality. Her face and voice always read with extreme monotony. The only life she outwardly exhibited was done through her varying hairstyles, all ranging from different to full out weird. As weird as she was Georgia was more than efficient. One day while they were in a live away high school, Theresa had gotten into an argument with a group of girls. The entire time Georgia was right there seeming to not pay attention, she was practically invisible to the angry mob as she sat at the desk not far away. But as soon as the first girl lunged at Theresa, Georgia appeared between the girls and punched Theresa’s attacker in the nose. A loud crunch quieted the entire crowd and the girl fell to the floor holding her nose, blood freely flowing out. Immediately after the mob of girls dispersed but not before calling a teacher and blaming the entire altercation on Georgia. She was branded as crazy and Theresa never spoke up for her. After that, Georgia was pulled from the school and began a homeschool curriculum while Theresa finished high school and went on to college. When she returned home, Georgia was at Mother’s side operating as her personal assistant. “Hello Georgia, how are you today?” “I’m well, how can I help you?” Georgia’s voice wasn’t as pleasant as her words were polite. But Theresa could tell she was trying. She smiled at the notion. “I’m guessing that you and Mother have already left. Is she available to speak?” “Yes, please hold.” Theresa heard a commotion and Mother swearing at someone before she took the phone from Georgia. “Hello?” “Hello Mother, It’s me.” “Ah yes Theresa my love, I was waiting for your call.” “What is going on? Why does Martin think you are his dead wife Sandra?” Theresa heard what sounded like moans mixed with a chuckle escape her step-mother’s lips. She sounded calm despite the anxiety in Theresa’s voice. “All will be told in due time, child. But truth be told, you did well to hide that you knew me yourself.” “Well for a second I felt like I didn’t know you Mother. And Martin didn’t seem to catch that I called you Denise. Are you really his wife, Sandra?” Theresa heard Mother sigh deeply. “Hold on Theresa. Zack stop.” There was a loud smack. “I said stop, Boy!” There was some shuffling in the background, before she returned to the phone. “Yes dear. You just can’t leave well enough alone can you?” “Mother who is Zack and what was he doing that you had to smack him?” “Theresa, which do you want answers for, my past and Martin, or an unimportant boy that can’t understand simple English and has nothing to do with you? Pick your battle Theresa, and choose quickly, my patience grows thinner by the second.” “Tell me about you and Martin, Denise.” Theresa conceded after a moment’s silence. She could tell that her step-mother was in one of her moods, and it was best not push her. “I don’t have time to give you a long drawn out history lesson on my life so I will give you an abbreviated version. Before your mother passed, I was married to Martin, but he was abusive both mentally and physically to me. When I tried to leave he cornered me and the man that tried to help me. There was an altercation and Martin shot me and blamed it on my friend. They took me to the hospital and put an innocent man in jail. I let them presume I was dead. Used some contacts to forge my death certificate and create my new identity and now I am here. I had no intention of you having to deal with this and I was very much surprised when I saw him enter the building ahead of me. When I saw him at your door, and then you with him, I was shocked to say the least. I had no idea you were into more mature men, Theresa” There was an uneven silence as Theresa thought about the “abbreviated history lesson” that she just received. “But that can also be put to good use.” Before Theresa could respond her step mother continued. “When I return we will have to discuss how you will fit into my plans for the near future. I have to go now. I think I will send Georgia back to keep you company for a while.” Theresa was caught off guard by the last statement. But she quickly recovered. “No Mother, that wouldn’t be necessary.” “I insist.” At that, the line clicked and went dead. Theresa threw the phone into the couch with an exasperated sigh, and went to pour herself a glass of wine. As she finished her first glass in one long pull she poured another glass to sip. She had to think. Things just weren’t adding up. She wanted to believe Mother, but it didn’t make sense that Martin would have tried to kill her. The look on his face when he recognized his wife wasn’t one that a man that tried to kill his wife would have. Beneath that fear was actual hurt. She had to get more information. Theresa ran back to the phone, intending to call Martin but decided to send a text instead. He would probably be at work by now. But she really needed to talk to him. Her phone showed her that he received the text, so from here all Theresa could do was wait. “This can’t be real.” Theresa spoke to herself. Nothing about Martin correlated with the kind actions that Mother suggested. She had met him a year or so ago. He was dating his fiancé then but they weren’t serious yet, or so he said. He walked up to her at the bar in his typical arrogant attorney confidence, and was immediately shot down. But that didn’t stop him from approaching her every time he saw her in the bar. Theresa was sure he only wanted sex or a quick lay and a story to tell his buddies. So one evening she gave him just that. She propositioned him and they met in a hotel and had some of the best sex that Theresa had ever had. Even though Martin was almost 15 years her senior, his strength, dexterity and attention to detail surprised her and always left her wanting more. And more is what she got, even when things got more serious between Martin and his fiancé. Whenever things got rough or stressful for Martin he would find himself on her couch, in her bed, or like recently, in her hallway. It’s not like what they had was a relationship. Theresa was always fully aware of the situation and Martin’s intentions. But he made it enjoyable and he always treated her with respect. He never demanded that she not see anyone else, she just got bored with men that didn’t compare to Martin’s sex. She went on dates and would brush the men off at the end, so that they wouldn’t try to sleep with her. Martin even took her out every now and then. But when he told her that he had proposed, Theresa told him they had to stop. And then she told him again and again after every time they had awesome spontaneous break up sex, again and again. The sex was amazing, and the thought of his tongue literally made her eyes roll back with pleasure. They probably stopped at least six times in the last month. Theresa was about to indulge in one of her most vivid memories when her doorbell rang. She tried to ignore it. But it rang again. She remembered that Mother was sending Georgia to stay with her for a while and got up to answer the door. She grumbled all the way down the hallway, complaining that she didn’t need a babysitter. And was ready to tell Georgia just that when she pulled the door open. But it wasn’t Georgia. A smartly dressed middle-aged woman greeted her with a ridiculously fake smile. “Hello, are you Theresa?” The woman asked. “Yes, Can I help you?” Theresa wondered. “Why yes, I believe you can. First let me introduce myself. My name is Francis Moore. I’m Martin’s fiancé.” to be continued....

[incursionofthedamnedrpg]

Mason Duval Accepted! Welcome back, Ro! We’re excited to see what Mason will bring, you know what to do.

Name: Ro

Age:

22

Timezone:

PST

State an account where we can message you:

This one

How active you’re going to be: (1-10)

6/7 sorry about disappearing the last time but I got my ish together now

How did you find out about this roleplay?

been innit

Why do you want to play this character?

Think it would be pretty interesting to play him out and delve into all his feelings

Anything else you would like to tell us? (Changes, suggestions…etc)

Nope! If there is any changes I need to make though just let me know and I’ll work on it asap.

IC:

Preferred Ships:

Mason x Chemistry

Sample para:

RFP.

Name: Mason Duval Birthday: May 13 (25) Species: Hybrid Lookalike: Hunter Parrish Availability: Taken

Personality

There was a time that Mason could’ve worn his heart on his sleeve but with the loss in his life he decided against showing an ounce of care. He prefers to keep himself at a distance from everyone and everything. Unless he’s in your debt, which he makes sure he never is, he isn’t the person you want to rely on to get you out of a bind. He’s stubborn, he’s aggressive, and if he wants something then he doesn’t care what he has to do to get it. He’s also witty, charming if he needs to be, and smarter than people think playing himself down most of the time. After losing those he cared about most, witnessing death, and being the reason behind it he has accepted the idea of it all catching up to him one day and he isn’t afraid to face death but he’ll make sure to go out with guns blazing. When he’s not telling someone to bug off, it’s usually because he’s had a bunch of drinks, whether they’re made up of blood or alcohol depends on the night. He can have fun and push his limits with others while he does, but at the end of the day none of it or them matter to him.

Past

There was nothing quite like being in a pack. To be surrounded by people who understand you entirely, that have gone or will go through the same hardship as you, at least, for when it came to the subject of being a wolf but Mason wouldn’t learn of such bonds for a few years. For the first few years of Mason’s life he lived in a small town located in North Carolina. His father was a man he’d learn to hate and his mother was a broken woman too afraid to stand up for herself or her child. His father had a temper on him, one that would end in most days with him yelling at Mason’s mother which would turn into him getting aggressive with her and Mason crying as he ran to a hiding spot after being told to run and hide by his mother through her own cries. She took the hits so Mason wouldn’t but she wouldn’t be able to protect him forever and that became evident the day his father took out his anger on Mason for a change. He was being told continuously by his father to pick up a mess he had made. Mason kept repeating the word “no” and laughing since the whole thing was funny by the four year old boy. However, to his father, it wasn’t anywhere near that. One hit and Mason was crying, then because he wouldn’t stop crying his fathers hand only came down harder. From that day forward both him and his mother were victims of the older males abuse.

Every year he got older and as he did, the more he endured from his father. Even though he was a boy, anything he did wrong, anything that was slightly less than what was expected of him and his fathers disappointment in him was shown by the marks and bruises he left on him. His mother stood by silently, which left him feeling resentful towards her for not stepping up for him, for the both of them. There was a fear in her eye though that Mason didn’t understand, for years, maybe it was just the fear for Mason’s life or, what he later thought, what might become of his father if he ever took a life. Then there came a night when Mason was nine years old, they were all sitting around the table getting ready to eat dinner. His mother was bringing out the soup she had made when she stumbled and that same warm soup fell right into his fathers lap. Next thing Mason knew, his father grabbed onto a fistful of his mothers hair and was throwing her onto the ground. The hits and kicks started rolling out along with her screams. Mason jumped onto his father trying to get him off of her but it was no use when he was thrown back. His father wasn’t stopping and it didn’t look like he had any plans to so Mason got himself up and ran into his parents room, making a b-line to the safe his father had. One that he had watched his father over time open while he was around, never paying attention enough to realize Mason was always looking. Opening it up he grabbed the gun and ran back out to the dining room. A second later a bullet was ripping through his fathers back, sending him to the ground. He had no idea the real consequences of what he had done, his mother scrambling to get up from the ground. There was a moment when she locked her eyes on Mason, that she looked at him with the same fear she had towards her father but then she was running towards him, throwing the gun aside and wrapping him up in her arms telling him it was all going to be okay. Standing there silently as she did, he looked at himself in the mirror across the room noticing the glow in his eyes, saying nothing to her in return.

That same night his mother started frantically packing up their clothes and a couple of other things she deemed important to take. After she put everything in the car, the two of them got in and she started to drive. Mason would ask her where they were going and she would simply continue to say it was all going to be okay, eventually he just stopped asking. His mind was settling in with what he had done to his father, really he had only meant to hurt him. To get him off his mother, to get him from killing her but he was only nine years old and now he had to live with that kind of blood on his hands. It would change everything he was physically and mentally. He fell asleep in attempts to stop seeing his fathers dead body but the nightmares that came only made him toss and turn till he ultimately gave up, opening his eyes to see them surrounded by trees and mountains. At some point she stopped, grabbed a backpack full of water and other things that looked like weapons but he didn’t quite understand. Then she grabbed his bag of clothes but left her own something he didn’t pay much attention to that since everything they were doing in that moment puzzled him. They walked and they walked and they walked some more after that. Mason started complaining that he was tired and hungry but his mother stayed silent the whole way. When they started hearing other people, Mason wasn’t sure what to make of it but his mother seemed to know exactly what she was doing. That was the day Mason was introduced to the Appalachian Mountains Pack or as he likes to think of it, the day he stumbled upon strangers who stared at him and his mother until their pack leader came up face to face with them.

Mason’s father was the one with the wolf gene, but his mother knew all about it. She dug herself so deep into that world, it was how she met Mason’s father in the first place. It was also how she knew about the werewolves in the mountains. Mason was left in the company of the leaders daughter while his mother talked to him. Astrid was only a year older than him but she seemed way more put together than he did. She tried to get him to loosen up, seeing the seriousness in his eyes, but Mason didn’t want any part in it. After what seemed like forever, his mother eventually came back to him. There were tears in her eyes as she walked with him to give them space from the others. Once they were far enough his mother stopped them, got down to his level, and started telling him how much she loved him. She told him that he had to be a better man than his father was and that these people would help him do that. He didn’t understand why she was crying during her little speech until she reached the end of it, telling him that she wasn’t going to be staying. That she had to leave but she’d miss him every day and she’d never stop thinking about him. Mason started protesting but then a man came up behind him, grabbing hold of Mason to keep him from running after his mother. She worked her way out of his grasp and then she was running in the direction they came while he was left yelling out for her. He never saw her again after that and at some point, he stopped wanting to. The man holding him back from taking off turned out to be the man that took Mason into his life. Him and his wife accepted Mason like he was their own but it wasn’t so easily acceptable for him, not at first anyway.

It was a whole different world that he was literally dropped into and he was desperately trying to make sense of it. They opened up his eyes to not only who they were but what they were and most importantly, what he now was: a wolf. His own temper was testing his patience from the changes in his life and the feeling of abandonment not to mention the issues that came from killing his own father. He was quiet most of the time and when he wasn’t, he wasn’t saying anything nicely. It didn’t help the night of his first full moon. As a kid going through something so painful, he thought he was going to die but Luka, the man that became his father figure, was there for him through all of it. There was only one thing he fulfilled from what his mother had said as he grew up and that was that he became a better man than his father but not because of what she had said either. It was all thanks to Luka and Mia who, through all the things he put them through at the beginning of his arrival, raised him and loved him unconditionally. To Mason it was like the years before he lived with the pack no longer existed to him. He became apart of them, they were his family and he’d lay down his life for any of them if necessary. He was okay with the way things ended up for him even though it was driven from a dark time in his life but he thought that, that kind of pain was behind him, boy was he wrong.

The day that hunters came looking for bloodshed Mason was out with a couple of the others when the hunters suddenly fell on them. There was a moment of panic that he felt but it was wiped away when he was knocked out. The last thing he could remember was the blurry figures of who he now considered his parents being hauled away with a some others. When he woke up he saw two of the others dead around him, he wasn’t sure why he was left simply unconscious, maybe they thought they had killed him, maybe they thought he hadn’t triggered his gene yet but no matter what the reasoning was he had little time to think about it. He started running back towards the camp to tell everyone else but that was when he realized how long he had been out for. Astrid was returning with Aila, he watched some of the others as they took her sister from her arms all leaving Astrid to her own moment. He watched her fall to the ground as she let out a scream in which he could feel her pain in. He knew, right then that he was back where he started. Astrid later confirmed it that both Luka and Mia hadn’t survived and he was left alone again, despite being surrounded by the pack. The strides he made over the years seemed to mean nothing to him now, he withdrew from the others, his temper was once again being tested, and he made a promise to himself to never feel that kind of pain again.

Most of the time after that Mason kept to himself, he almost considered leaving but then two people came around that caught his attention. Tyler and Hayley, looking to break some sire bond from Klaus Mikaelson, a man he had heard of and hoped to never meet for himself. Tyler being half wolf and half vampire, it had Mason intrigued and a little bit envious. The strength that the other must’ve possessed, the upper hand he could have from being not one but two species was something Mason wouldn’t mind having himself. As quickly as the ideas of what could be came, Tyler had done what he had been there to do which sent both him and Hayley on their way. Leaving Mason to wonder what he was going to do and if he chose to leave, where he would go. That decision was one he sat on for a while, because even though nothing had been the same for him after Luka and Mia’s death, the pack still looked at him as one of their own so was he really ready to turn away from it all? It was like the universe decided to actually give him an answer. Astrid had been away and came back, only to decide she was leaving again. Mason stopped her, telling her he wanted to go with her which is when she gave him the details of where she had been and where she was going back to. She told him about the extra vile of blood she was going to return to Klaus since Aila rejected the offer and Mason didn’t hesitate to tell her he’d take it.

He wasn’t a fan of answering to Klaus, sire bond or not. He made sure to break that the second he became a hybrid but for Astrid’s sake he followed along. It didn’t end up being the worst thing in the world since learning from a young age to be apart of a pack meant having a leader, Klaus became that to him in a way whether he was on board with it or not. The bloodlust was a new thing for him to get a handle over, sometimes though he lost himself in all of it. His emotions being heightened wasn’t much of a walk in the park but eventually he learned to control himself and then he detached himself from as much as he could. He led his life differently than he ever had before and even though he didn’t feel as much everything was much more enjoyable that way. Over the years he’d come in and out of being by Astrid’s side, wanting to stick with whatever deal she had made with Klaus but still wanting to do things on his own and see more of the world since he had been so sheltered in the mountains. It was always fun and games with him. The only time emotions got the best of him was when he felt guilt after learning what happened to the Appalachian pack thanks to a Lucien Castle but he buried the loss deep inside of him and moved along like he had learned to from a young age.

Present

Sharing a place with Astrid in Mystic Falls, he comes in and out of the small town since it reminds him of the suffocation he felt before living with the wolves in the mountain. Unlike Astrid, his loyalty to Klaus comes to an extent but when it comes to protecting Hope. He’d die for the little one before he let anything happened to her, having a soft spot for her. As much as he enjoys having some fun, Mason tries to stick to his own stuff not looking to make any deep connections with people and the last thing he wants to do is get caught in the middle of all the messy business that has zero to do with him.

Connections

Astrid & Aila King

They were in the same pack together, experienced loses together. Astrid has been the only constant person in his life since he was left behind by his mother with the Appalachian pack so she’s about the only person he considers a friend.

Tyler Lockwood & Hayley Marshall

They came at a time in his life that had him questioning what he was going to do with himself and although he never had a deep discussion about it with either of them, they guided him unknowingly.

Lucien Castle

He hopes to learn about his death some day for what he did to the wolves.