#like. liz never knows what having a mother would even feel like. she wants desperately for nate to see her as a mentor and parental figure.

[allseeingdirt]

everytime i think about kath for too long especially when considering the wider picture im like. ngeremes plastik

[merci-bitch]

Happier Than Ever

Angelique Bouchard x fem!reader 

Request : Would you consider writing some jealous or possessive Angelique? It’s okay if not! :) - Anonymous 

Warning(s) : swearing, angst, small nsfw, trauma, claustrophobia, 

Words : 3k

A/N : I do apologize, this probably wasn’t what you wanted but it just came to me. I like this, even if there’s spelling mistakes. I don’t proof read :/. I do hope you all enjoy it! Sorry it’s taken so long! Xx

"Angie, this isn't fair!"

Angie only grinned at you as she finished tightening the chains that were wrapped around you. Standing up straight, she looked down at you. A pouty smile on her lips. Angie placed her hands on her hips.

"You know, we could have avoided this situation of you loved me."

"I do love you! Please just get me out of here." Your tone desperate. Struggling against the chains despite the small amount of space you had in the box. Angie threw her head back in laughter.

"Angelique!" You barked at her. Catching her off guard at the harsh tone. She stopped laughing at the sound of her full name. She leant down slowly again. Letting her slim fingers trace against your cheek. Despite your obvious fear, you couldn't help but lean into her touch. Your eyelids closing as you felt her lips on your forehead. Sniffing softly, looking up at her with glossy eyes. Expecting her to let you out.

"Better keep your head down, goldwing."

"Angie don't do this to me. You know I hate small spaces!" You nearly screamed. Feeling panic arise in you. Angie said nothing as she stood at full height once again. She seemed to think of something to say. It wasn't usual for the elegant Angie Bouchard to not know what to say. Moment cut short as she broke the silence. "So here's the deal."

Angie moved her hands up under her lace dress, watching with pleasure as she saw how your eyes widened in shock. Pulling the lacy panties down her legs, snapping it at her left ankle. "I'm gonna destroy everything you love." She said as she leant down and covered your lower face with her underwear. Tugging it behind your ears. "And you're gonna take some time to think about us."

Angie grinned from ear to ear as she grabbed the lid of the coffin and started to close it. "See you soon my love."  Blowing you a kiss before closing the lid. Leaving you in complete darkness with your lover's underwear as a mask on your face. +

-

"It's not like I don't want her. Sometimes I feel as I'm more honest in my dreams and she's been in quite a few."

"Does she make you happy?"

"The more time goes, I feel as if I was made for her. Angie's comet that comes around more then I do."

"Have you been getting sleep Y/N?"

"I haven't slept since Sunday. Midnight is like 3 AM to me."

Julia leant back in her chair and crossed her legs as she watched you. Something was off. "You never answered my question if she made you happy Y/N."

You sat up and looked at Julia. Feeling your nerves burn. "Was this Liz's idea? Of course it was!"

Your tone caught Julia off guard. Stumbling with her words as you walked your way towards the door, only to watch you come back.

"I hate the way she looks at me. I can't stand the dialogue she can't speak. I know she'll never be satisfied and though I ty to tell myself that I hate her - I can't. It's all I think about when I'm behind the wheel. Is this how I'm going to feel forevermore?"

Your tone cracking at the end of speaking. Sniffing and clearing your throat, drying your eyes; looking back at Julia. Seeing her surprised eyes.

"I could never hate her. She's all I've got left of mother."

With that you left Julia's office. Nearly running down the stairs. You felt your throat tighten. Ears ringing like high keys of a piano being played. A storm forming inside your head. Sounds of loud speaking blasting in your head. Vision black and white, spiralling.

Reaching the front door, using your strength to open the old wooden door open. As if someone hit you in the face with a pillow, the wind hit you. The heavy rain flooding down replacing the blasting sound in your ears. Closing your eyes, feeling everything go away for just a moment. Letting your shoulders fall back down.

"Y/N!"

Turning around you saw Liz standing at the top of the stairs. Her face tense. You turned around again and started walking outside. Hearing her fast steps behind you. Gasping, the raindrops cold against your burning skin. Taking a moment to collect yourself, a moment too long as Liz grabbed your arm, nearly dragging you back inside.

"Are you insane?!"

Ripping your arm from her grip. "What do you mean Liz? Am I not allowed to have my opinions?" Turning so your back was facing her. Looking out again, waiting. You heard Liz groan of frustration. "Your mother wouldn't ha-"

"Don't talk to me about mother! I thought we both agreed to keep her out of this Liz!"

Your mother died when you were a teenager, when Carolyn was little. She wasn't sick. It was a sudden passing. One morning she just collapsed and didn't wake up. Of course, everything changed after that. Except Roger. Roger is Roger. Still an asshole. You and Liz became more distant and cold against each other. You never really understood why. You loved your aunt. Then Angie happened. It ruined your relationship completely. Silly you to fall in love. You'd gone to therapy to help with the trauma of seeing your mother die in front of you but you stopped years ago. You got over it, or at least pretended to. Nothing lasts, you knew the deal.

"Y/N, are you waiting for someone?" Liz asked.

"Maybe."

"She won't come, you know. She never does. She has you as a souvenir, just waiting to sell you off."

"And you think making me talk to Julia will change my mind?!" You turned around to look at her. Daring her to continue, but of course. She didn't. It's so weird that we care so much, until we don't. Things you once enjoyed, just kept you employed now. The things you longed for, will one day be boring to you.

You turned around around again, silently agreeing with Liz. She wasn't coming. You started walking.

"Y/N! You'll catch a cold!"

"So be it! It's not like any of you would care if I actually got sick, or collapsed like mother!" You screamed back at her.

"Y/N stop walking, god dammit!"

You turned around and saw Liz running towards you. Wrapping her jacket around you, the one you loved as a kid. She squeezed your arm. "Be back to dinner." You nodded your head short and flipped up the hood and made your way into town.

The walk was mid long, but cold in the rain. And of course wet. leaving you looking like a wet dog by the time you reached the town. People giving you weird glances as you stepped into Angel Bay. Stepping into the elevator, breathing normally again after walking through stinking fish. Pulling down the hod and scratching your scalp. Brushing through your hair with your fingers, trying to make it look presentable. Ending up with tying it in a ponytail. Opening the jacket, to show that there was some part of you that was dry.

As you stepped out, you bumped into someone. The person nearly knocking you to the ground, had they not held a strong grip around your waist.

"I deeply apologise! I didn't see where I was going." A man said as he helped you stand up straight again.

"No worries! I am as much to blame as you. I'm Y/N." You chuckled and held your hand out.

The guy didn't take your hand, but hugged you instead. Catching you by surprise but sooner or later you hugged him back. "You're a hugger I see."

He pulled back and scratched the back of his neck and looked to the ground.

"I'm sorry, I should have asked."

"No. Not at all. It's alright. I do love a good hug." You smiled at him and softly hit his arm. He gave you a small smile back. "I'm Matt."

"Nice to meet you Matt. I sense you're new here."

Matt nodded his head and collected his papers that'd been on the floor. "Yeah, I had an interview earlier. With Ms. Bouchard?"

You nodded. "Scary thing, isn't she?"

Matt seemed hesitant to answer. As if he was scared people would hear his answer. It made you laugh. "No need to be scared. She can't hurt you, not while I'm around, buddy."

Matt seemed to relax as you said it. Giving you a smile back. "Thanks Y/N."

"You wanna grab coffee tomorrow? At the little cafe by the corner at 11?"

"I'd like that. See you then Y/N!" Matt waved as he stepped inside the elevator. You waved back until the doors closed and then made your way towards Angie's office.

"Hello Miriam, is she in?"

"Good morning Y/N. Yes, I'll le-"

You opened the door to her office to see her on the phone. Closing the door behind you. Angie raised an eyebrow and looked you up and down as she continued to speak with whoever it was on the line. Suddenly, locking eye contact with you.

"Well, I'd be dammed."

She kept the eye contact as she put down the telephone and stood up. Not saying anything, but just looking at you. Taking you in. It almost made you feel uncomfortable. Your gaze turned to her desk, on the left corner. The little cow you'd given her as a present years ago.

"You still have the cow I gave you."

"Don't change subject."

The sharp reply caught you off guard. Nearly making you flinch. Rolling your shoulders back, looking up at her, seeing how tense her shoulders were. She'd clenched her jaw.

"What subject? You didn't even speak."

"Oh, but you certainly did."

"What on earth are you talking about Angie?"

"Coffee? Tomorrow at 11?" She mimicked your voice. That's when it hit you. Of course she'd know.

"You have some secret spy out there?"

"Do not take me for a fool Y/N!" Angie rarely shouted at you. You heard her scream and shout at others but never at you. It made you flinch and want to crawl out of your skin. Slowly, you sat down in one of the chairs in front of her desk. Pulling the jacket tighter to you.

"I-I don't think you're a fool Angie."

"Then give me one good reason I shouldn't fire him."

"Fire him? He was just being nice!"

"Nice? Darling girl, he likes you."

Angie's tone got slick. Her lips curling into that familiar wicked smile. She slowly leant over her desk.

"He doesn't like me. He was just being nice since be bumped into me." You shrugged your shoulders.

"I think I know when someone smears themselves over what's mine." Angie crosses her arms and straightened her back.

"Alright, don't start with that. He was just being nice. You scare him." You crossed your legs and leant back in the chair. Trying to get comfortable in an uncomfortable chair was impossible.

"You know when you said you'd get me anything?"

"Yes."

"Get new chairs."

Angie groaned and walked around her desk, stopping behind you. Letting her hands rest on your shoulders. Automatically you tensed up at her touch. Making her tsk.

"So tense, my dear." She gripped your shoulders more firmly and leant down to whisper in your ear, "Do I scare you?"

A small blush crept up your chest. No matter how many times she touched you, it always had the same reaction and you doubted it'd ever change. Clearing your throat. "A little."

Angie's low chuckle sent shivers down your spine. Her hands squeezed your shoulders as she left small little kisses on the back of your neck before standing up again. You heard her do something behind you. "Why do you smell like a wet dog."

You snorted. "Well, someone forgot to pick me up as they promised."

"I had another meeting darling."

You rolled your eyes. "When don't you have one."

You felt Angie stand right behind you. Her front pressing against your back.

"Let me make it up to you." Her hands slid down your shoulders, further down your chest. Slipping under your shirt, cupping your breasts in your bra, giving them a squeeze. Leaning down and brushing her nose against the back of your neck. Her scent filling you up. Leaning your head slightly back, pushing your chest up in her hands. Angie's lips curled into a satisfied smirk.

"No, no stop."

You jerked away from her, standing up and shaking your whole body. Readjusting your shirt and bra. Angie turned around and glared at you. "What's the matter with you?"

"I don't want it."

"Don't want what Y/N."

"Just - can you step away."

For once she did what you asked. It was a first for both of you. You'd never neglected her touch. In one way or another. "Sorry. I had another fight with Liz before I came here. She mentioned my mother, that's all."

Angie watched you with curiosity. "No, don't look at me like that."

"Like what?"

"I'm not telling you about it."

"I never said you had to, sweetheart." Her tone was smooth like butter. Her posture told a different story. You looked up at Angie. Those piercing blue eyes. You'd get lost in them like an ocean.

"She said you only kept me a souvenir. Planning to sell me off." It was barely a whisper. You saw how Angie's whole aura changed again. Angie scoffed and walked back to her desk. Lightning a cigarette. "Liz and her extraordinary thoughts."

"Am I a souvenir to you Angie?"

"Of course not." Angie said as she sat down and opened her folder again. Setting her brain on work again.

It went quiet and you just stood there. Watching her work. Of course. Work. If she didn't get what she wanted, what was the point?

"I'm not a mirror you know."

She didn't answer.

"Times have changed, haven't they?"

Angie hummed. Clearly not listening. You knew her motto. When she got bored, she got something new. In this case it involved you.

"What a drag to love you like I do."

This caught her attention. "What do you mean Y/N."

"You know, Julia asked if you made me happy. I didn't answer her question."

Angie slowly stood up as you spoke. Her expression hard. Serious. Frightening.

"You're all it takes for me to break a promise. Silly me for falling in love with you."

You turned your back to her and walked towards the door only to jump away as a vase was thrown behind you at the door. Shattering all over the floor around the door. You turned around and looked at Angie with shock written across your face. "Are you insane?!" You looked back to the broken glass laying across the floor. Stepping away from it.

"Everybody dies. Surprise, surprise." Angie said as she walked towards you. Backing you up against the wall. Trapping you.

"You could have hit me!"

"I could never dare lay a finger on you, my dear."

"You almost did!"

"Don't tell, goldwing."

You looked over to the glass again. Angie pulled your chin back and leant in to kiss you. The kiss bruising. Harsh but full of passion. Something she never lacked. Pulling away when she needed air, but not too far. Brushing her nose against yours.

"I'd be dammed before I ever see that man touch you again."

"You're jealous."

"Not in the slightest. I don't share what's rightfully mine."

"Rightfully? Let's get one thing straight, you don't own me Angie."

"Oh, I don't? You have been to clarify that many times, my darling girl."

The statement made you blush. You hit her shoulder. "I'm allowed to have friends."

"Friends who don't touch."

You rolled your eyes at her. Stepping away from her once again. Stepping over the glass. Careful not to step in it. "You know, if you can't handle me having friends. I can't handle you." -

+

You don't remember how you got into the coffin in the first place. You remember walking to the door again and then everything going black. Then waking up with Angie leaning above you, and you tied up in a coffin. You knew she was a witch. Since Barnabas came, everyone knew. Everyone who was a Collins. It didn't really change anything. It made you understand her outstanding beauty. A powerful woman, quite literally.

Struggling once again with the chains that were wrapped tight around you. The underwear making it hard to breathe, the air dampening your face; making it hot. Panic started creeping up inside you. Your eyes started to sting as you continued to struggle. The general air inside the coffin was musty, and bad. Small tears making their way down your cheeks. Sobs bubbling up in your throat, threatening to spill.

"Angelique!"

You screamed the best you could as a sob covered it. Feeling your whole body sake with fear. Your ears were popping the moment you started screaming. You didn't knew what you were screaming, if it was for help or Angie. The more tears, the more screams and the more fear. You knew Angie would do the opposite of what she said she would. If this was her idea of a punishment, you weren't sure if you'd ever recover. Different thoughts went through your head. Was Liz right? Was Angie right? Were you the only bad person here? Were Angie the cause of everything?

"Angelique! Come back! Please!"

You knew she wasn't there. You knew she wasn't coming back. A point of you wanted her to come back and another didn't. People heard you, but listened to her. You were never heard. Happier than ever, and you wished it wasn't true.

You were wasting your breath. You didn't relate to her. You ever told anyone anything bad about her. You loved her. She was your everything but at what cause? She ruined everything good for you.

Nearly choking on your tears, the air getting tighter. Using the last you had, screaming your lungs out. The ringing in your ears getting worse. Was this how you were gonna die? By the hands of the woman you loved? Was this the price you had to pay for loving her? You'd never get over her. She held your heart, even if you didn't want her to.

Happier than ever. A fake story. Nothing lasts, you knew the deal.

[alyblacklist]

Hey, I know you are not feeling the most friendly toward Red and TBL in general right now but I can't help but wonder of Red was right. I mean Liz was killed by Van Dyke (was that his name) who worked for Townsend. Townsend wanted Liz dead because of whatever Ivan Stepanov told him. I assume that was Red's big secret. If so, wasn't Red right about not telling Liz the secret. I mean she has a history of trusting people even though she doesn't know them well. Example: she trusted Jennifer after they had just met. Jennifer could have been working for an enemy yet Liz trusted her because of a biological connection (which she had no proof of). Also, blonde Kat, need I say more. She has proved that she has no sense of loyalty whatsoever betraying Red and the task force multiple times:

1.21/ 1.22 (Though, she had just found out that Red killed her father. I think that can be excused)

Season 3- she faked her death- did she not consider what she would be doing to Red, Ressler, Cooper, Aram, Samar and Dembe or did she just not care ? using gifs to make my point

Season 6- She turned Red in, nearly getting him killed and putting the TF, including herself, in danger. What if the government had decided to disavow all of them??

Season 8- She goes on the run, betraying the people who've stood by her for years and dedicates herself to killing the man who's protected her since she was a kid and has literally traded his life for hers. All of this for a woman who claims to be her mother. She values this alleged biological connection so much she ignores all the horrible things she knows blonde Kat has don.

Liz says she values honesty above all else and hates Red for not telling her things, but she constantly lies to, uses and manipulates the people she calls her family.

Opinions?

Thanks!

im posting this on my blog too.

I've gone back and forth on whether I should even answer this ask because I'm like a week late due to life events intervening but maybe I do need to say it:

I categorically and emphatically disagree with the idea that Red was EVER right in not telling Liz his secret because Liz was somehow untrustworthy. Liz resorted to trusting virtual strangers such as Jennifer and the fake Katarina only after Red repeatedly and mercilessly withheld basic information about HER OWN LIFE from her for years, all the while killing her adoptive father, admitting he "hired" her husband, killing Mr. Kaplan, killing her "mother" as far as she knew until the very end, keeping Kirk and Tom and anyone else who ever tried to get her the truth from telling her to the point that Tom died, all the while telling her it was either none of her business but done for her "protection"....I mean, come ON. She was not a child! She was a 35+ mom of a child who deserved to know why she was in all of this nebulous, supposed "danger" her whole life. She deserved to be invested in Red's plans especially when he expected her to take over his empire. What - she was supposed to do that blind to its purpose? To figure it out from that stupid letter?

Red held all the cards from day one. He allowed Dembe, and Dom and Ivan Stepanov - the important MEN in his life to know his secret and yet he couldn't bring himself to ever tell Liz. This is probably my biggest issue with the show right now. It was like everyone BUT Liz got to know "THE TRUTH." Even in the end - even after his SWORN ENEMY Townsend learned "THE TRUTH" he had to condition LIZ learning it on that stupid letter and his requirement that she KILL HIM? Who does that? Why is that in any way acceptable? We don't know. The only reasons we (the audience) were even given were a whole bunch of none of your business and I'm not sure why I can't tell her. Nothing - NOTHING - that Liz ever did supports how Red treated her in the end. Nothing except Red's colossal ego.

If the bones were really her biological father's as we have been told, she had a right to know that and why.

If Red is her biological mother as they hinted, it's even worse. And no, I still don't accept that as canon but I can't deny that's where they've left us with the teasing. Because then there is no larger motive or purpose to protect her mother or innocent third parties. Then, it is exactly as presented in 8.21/8.22 - all of this only to keep her mother (Red) hidden and Liz "safe" (an abject failure in the end). What a whole lot of death and destruction to protect a woman who wanted nothing more than to know WHY she needed to be protected. Who desperately wanted agency over her own life and deserved to have it. Who was an ADULT with a child of her own.

Even if Red is NOT her mother and is still an unrelated third man (as I hope) it's not much better. Maybe then he's at least conflicted between protecting Katarina/others while keeping Liz in the loop but this again begs the question - why enter/re-enter her life at all? Why keep her in the dark on these nebulous threats when the biggest threat ever seemed to be chasing after the mother she wasn't even aware of until AFTER Red entered her life? She was FOUR when her mother died. She was never, ever in danger unless and until the world learned she was leverage to get to Katarina, which they never would have learned had Red not done what he did for his own selfish reasons.

From where I sit, there was never, ever a good reason not to tell her why she was in danger and what her connection was to Red and to let her be a full invested player in her own future, and Agnes's future. I think Liz could have been trusted if Red would have trusted her. Yes, I get we wouldn't have a show if they had chosen to fill her in. It's the premise. But to see any part of audience defend Liz remaining in the dark after eight seasons because they just love Red/Spader so much that he can do no wrong, nope, I'm not ok with that. As things stand now, there was never a reason for Liz not to know "THE TRUTH" beyond Red's ego. And I guess that is why I cannot look forward to S9 because if he gets to prance around and pretend like nothing happened and it wasn't all his fault, and everyone happily claps while he does his thing, I will still be seething and raging. Liz deserved better. We - the audience - deserved better than for Raymond Reddington to be the "strong female character" of the Blacklist (I can't believe I actually have to type that). What a mess.

[i-believe-in-melinda-may]

So, I deleted what I posted last of the first chapter of my Rederina fic as it didn’t feel right, the characters didn’t feel Authentic. I re-wrote and I feel much better about this version so I thought I would share.

For Elizabeth Keen it has been a long few days, a long few weeks, but as she stares at a beautiful piece of art, with the man she knows as Raymond Reddington sitting next to her, some of the stress, and pain, of the last few weeks steps away; while her desire for answers remains all to noticeable.

“It really is exquisite, in it’s way,” Reddington says, putting the casket into it’s own little bag, and Liz can’t help but role her eyes.

“It’s exquisite because of what you know about it, where it came from, who made it, it’s intellectual, I prefer art that’s more emotional,” Liz says, there being a double meaning to her words.

“The forger certainly played on our emotions,” Reddington comments, and Liz realizes that this is the opportunity she has been waiting for, but she has no idea if she is going to take Ressler’s advice.

“The forger, the one you found but won’t turn over to us,” Liz comments.

“The counterfeits are nearly flawless, which is enough,” Reddington comments. “Because our desire for them to be real obscures any imperfection,” Reddington says. “Much like your desire for the women in Paris to be your mother blinded you to the fact that she wasn’t,” Reddington says as he needs Liz to understand, to know, that the women she believed was Katarina wasn’t.

“It wasn’t just my desire,” Liz comments.

“So, she told you she was Katarina,” Reddington says, being both glad to know exactly what Tatiana told Liz, and also extremely worried as he knows what it could lead to.

“She did, and its difficult for me to believe she wasn’t because while I don’t understand everything it made sense, everything she said,” Liz comments, wanting to give Reddington one more chance to tell her the truth she is so desperate for before she does what she has to do if he doesn’t.

“Elizabeth, she wasn’t your mother,” Reddington says, needing her to believe that, and Liz can’t help but be annoyed by the fact that his voice is completely calm.

“How are you so sure?” Liz asks, an edge to her voice and realizing that she has nothing to lose Liz decides to be honest because maybe, just maybe, if she is honest with Reddington then he will be honest with her and finally tell her the truth she so desperately desires. “Because I know you’re not Ilya Koslov, or the real Raymond Reddington,” Liz says, revealing what Reddington desperately hoped she didn’t know. “So who are you to her that allows you to know the truth no one else does?” Liz asks as it doesn’t make sense to her. “Who are you to my family that causes my grandfather to lie to ME about who you are?” Liz asks, her voice becoming more angry and more upset.

“Elizabeth…” Reddington starts to say, using the tone which tells Elizabeth he isn’t going to tell her anything.

“No…. I’m done,” Elizabeth says, surprising herself with her words and causing Dembe to look at Reddington through the rear view mirror. “Seven years ago, you walked into my life and offered me crumbs and nothing but vague answers about who you are and I’m sick of it,” Liz admits, while she is surprised by her own words it doesn’t make them any less true.

“You don’t know what these questions will lead to, you cannot imagine the danger you, and Agnes will be in if the wrong people learn the truth,” Reddington says to Liz as he needs her to see that everything he is doing is for her protection.

“That’s my point, so many people have been killed and hurt,” Liz says annoyed, with pain in her voice. “I don’t want the truth because just because I’m curious I want to know so I know what I’m, what we’re, up against,” Liz explains.

“I can protect you,” Reddington tells Liz as that is what he has spent the last thirty years making sure of.

“We both know that’s not always true,” Liz tells Reddington. “I care about you, even without knowing who you are you are family to me, and I love having you in my life, but I can’t handle the lies and secrets anymore; I don’t want them, and I don’t want them around Agnes,” Liz admits. “I let Maddy Toliver get close to my daughter, and if she’s not my mother then I put Agnes in incredible daughter because I didn’t know the truth, isn’t that exactly what you want to protect me and Agnes from?” Liz says, trying to use Reddington’s own logic to realize just what his secrets are doing.

“Elizabeth…” Reddington says, once more trying to get Liz to understand that he keeps the secrets he keeps for a reason.

“I know you say it’s dangerous, but doesn’t everything that just happened prove that those dangers are already here?” Liz asks, making an extremely good point not that Reddington wants to admit that. “I can’t protect myself, or my daughter, if I continue to be in the dark,” Liz says, bringing up Agnes partly because she knows that, despite everything, Reddington does care about her. “Ignorance isn’t bliss, it’s not protection,” Liz says. “So, I am asking, begging for the truth, or this... you being in my life, is done,” Liz reveals, not realizing how much her words hurt, while Dembe wishes he could tell the truth Reddington refuses to. “That’s something I really don’t want, but I will if I have to,” Liz admits. “I will say goodbye to you, and the taskforce to find out the answers to the questions you refuse to answer, no matter where they take me,” Liz admits, as she realizes that she can’t just wait for someone to tell her the truth anymore, she has to find it herself.

“Elizabeth, when I say you cannot comprehend the danger the truth will bring I mean it, you go down that path and it only ends one way,” Reddington reveals. “I have the spent the last thirty years doing everything to make sure that does not happen,” Reddington explains.

“Why? Explain it to me so I don’t have to find answers on my own, so I don’t go down that path, so that I don’t bring that danger down on us,” Liz requests, deciding that this is Reddington’s last chance to tell her the truth, if he doesn’t she will do whatever she has to do to find answers on her own. “Why are we in danger? how are you so sure that the women from Paris, Maddy Toliver, isn’t my mother? How do you know she’s not Katarina Rostova?” Liz asks, and as he looks at her face Reddington realizes that Liz is serious about what she is saying, and that this one moment could undo everything he spent thirty years doing. So, against every single one of his instincts Reddington knows there is only one thing he can do; even if it’s the last thing he wants.

“Because I am,” Reddington says, saying the words he never intended to say.

For the last seven years Elizabeth has considered many possibilities about who Reddington is, but as he finally gives her the answer she has wanted for so long it’s not one she ever considered, and is certainly not one she was ready for.

“What? No…. it can’t be,” Liz says, having no idea what to believe as logically it makes more sense for Maddy Toliver to be her mother, but at the same time it also makes perfect sense.

“It is,” Reddington says, realizing that Liz is so shocked that she is not truly reacting to what he is saying, not comprehending it. While he is unsure that it is a good idea Reddington knows there is something he can say to help Liz believe the truth. “When you were a child, before the fire, we were at the Summer Palace, we were in the garden. I told you to bring me some treasures, I was digging the hole when you ran up towards me,” Reddington explains. “I said, ‘There you are, did you bring some treasures? Oh, these are beautiful, this is a time machine, one day you will come back here, open it, and remember me,’” Reddington says, switching to Russian as he speaks the words he said all those years ago as he hopes that, even with a lot of Liz’s memories being removed, that it will be enough to remind Liz of something only the two of them know.

“I remember that… remember my mother saying that to me,” Liz says, tears coming to her eyes as she never told anyone what she remembered, as she searches for her mother’s face in Reddington’s.  “How… Dom said…” Liz starts to say, trying to make sense of everything.

“What he wanted you to believe,” Reddington reveals. “Most of what Dom told you was the truth, except when it came to my identity,” Reddington explains. “He told you want he wishes was real, he could never fully accept the truth,” Reddington admits, admitting what is painful for him. “He told you that I was Ilya rather than the truth that the daughter he… so dearly loved, but could never full accept, changed everything about herself,” Reddington explains.

“I don’t understand, how? Why? How would you do it? Why would you do it?” Elizabeth asks, as she needs to understand what is going on and she just can’t make it make sense, can’t make her mind work to put the pieces together.

“It’s a long story,” Reddington admits. “One full of ambition and hope, love, and loss,” Reddington explains. “And I will tell you the whole thing when you’re ready to hear it,” Reddington tells Liz, as he can see that she is becoming overwhelmed, who once more feels anger rise up inside of her.

“I think we both know that I am beyond ready to hear it,” Liz tells Reddington.

“You’re not as ready as you think,” Reddington admits as that he can see. “I can see it in your eyes, you’re not sure if you can believe what I’m saying, and I understand that,” Reddington reveals.  “When you’re ready to listen and have an open mind I will tell you everything,” Reddington says as he knows that now that he has told Elizabeth his identity, he needs to tell her everything, but he also knows that he cannot do so before Elizabeth is ready to truly listen to everything he needs to say.  

“When? When do you think I will be ready?” Liz asks, as she feels that she is ready now, but she also can’t deny that it is a lot to comprehend.

“That’s up to you,” Reddington admits, and Liz can’t help but roll her eyes. “I have some business to attend to for the next few days, but I’ll be back in time for Agnes’s performance,” Reddington reveals.

“You’re coming?” Liz asks, not even surprised that he knows about it.

“I wouldn’t miss it,” Reddington assures Liz. “Elizabeth, even if you don’t see me I will be there, and we can talk when you’re ready to put aside everything you think you know and listen to the truth; listen to my story,” Reddington explains, as Dembe stops the car outside of Elizabeth’s apartment.

“I can do that,” Liz says as she isn’t overly sure she knows anything anymore. “But I need you to promise me something,” Liz admits. “Promise me that you won’t just disappear into the shadows, promise me that when I come to you ready to hear the truth you will give it to me, no more talk about danger and protection,” Liz requests.

“I can’t talk about one without the others,” Reddington admits. “But I promise Elizabeth, I will not disappear, I will tell you everything,” Reddington says, meaning his words completely, and to his surprise Liz reaches over and puts her hand over his hands, and even though it is just for a few fleeting seconds it means a lot to Reddington.

“Have a safe trip,” Liz says to Reddington. “Both of you,” Elizabeth says, looking at Dembe.

“Thank you, Elizabeth,” Dembe responds and Elizabeth gets out the car.

As Liz gets out the car, she feels unsteady on her feet. For so long she has been wanting the truth about who Reddington is and now that she’s gotten it there is a part of her that isn’t sure she can believe it, but at the same time there is a part of her that desperately wants to. While she is uncertain about so many things, in this moment as she stands on the side walk, Liz is sure of one thing, and one thing only, and that’s that she wants to see her daughter.

“You did the right thing,” Dembe says as he and Reddington watch as Elizabeth finally walks inside.

“Did I? To protect Elizabeth I may have just put her in the crosshairs,” Reddington comments, doubting if he made the right decision.

“Raymond we both know she was already in the crosshairs, now that she knows the truth she can prepare,” Dembe points out.

“We should go,” Reddington says as he isn’t sure he wants to talk about this right now, even with Dembe. “We have a plane to catch,” Reddington says as he stares out the window and Dembe pulls away from the curb.

[kyle-valenti]

burnout only feels like burning

2.7k / Summary: kyle valenti doesn't have the same quarantine as his friends; an exploration of kyle's trauma during covid as a doctor. (tw depression & other triggers you’d imagine with this subject)

read & comment/ ao3

A little like the virus itself, Kyle’s relationship with his mask begins with worry, annoyance, and then pain. He’s more than happy to have the proper N-95 mask as they begin to get their first case at Roswell General but then a couple more patients trickle in and within a few days his skin is irritated and itching. Maybe it’s the news, maybe it’s the texts from his friends that he’s increasingly missing, but when the Regiment starts spouting off about how COVID is a joke he thinks it might be affecting his nerves too. By week three his former red mark left by the mask has become a permanent feature to his face and by week five it’s not a mark but a bruise instead. Blisters and cracks in his skin litter his hands from over-washing. His feet become so overused the pads of his feet feel numb and bruised and he wears through an entire pair of shoes.

Positivity has fled from his life by week seven and now he’s inside of a survival mode he’s never experienced. He thought after last year he’d be used to anything the world (or universe, rather, given all these aliens) could throw at him. Now what feels foolish, he had believed that there was nothing that could be worse than the previous pain of losing a patient or finding out his father had experimented on people’s lives. 

When he’s out of ventilators and CPAP machines because Albuquerque needs them more and he has to choose whether or not to save the life of an eighty five year old or a thirty two year old he remembers from high school, he breaks.

 Guilt is one thing, grief is another, but the pure rage he feels knowing that Max Evans is out on the town patrolling as some fucking cop and not someone who could heal most of this hospital makes him want to commit actual murder. Maybe trading the blood of an alien on his hands would feel less heart-wrenching. But no. Max had brought back Rosa and had paid the price. Quelling his anger, he went back to work.

 He slept at the hospital most nights in the height of it. Sure the couch was rough, but it was better than the other on-call doctor beds down the hall. Three twelve hour ER shifts of a usual work week doubled to five days of thirteen hour shifts. Soon there’s a week where he pulls double shifts for an entire week when one of his nurses is urgently hospitalized herself. Hospital directors had left them with no PPE except contaminated masks to reuse. Maria, Isobel, and Rosa are in the forefront of a drive to make and donate masks to his hospital after some social media posts that he doesn’t even see until the cloth masks arrive and his medical assistants give him their handwritten note. It makes him smile, but smiling feels so foreign that he almost wants to break from that.

 Visitors are no longer allowed which means Kyle isn’t allowed to use his bedside manner to comfort the family of patients. He has to facetime mothers, spouses, and children and hold the phone over a patient who can’t breathe without machine assistance and pretend that everything is fine and that there’s still hope despite the hypoxia and lack of rising vitals. Ignore that if the patient goes into cardiac arrest more than once, the kindest thing to do given prognosis is to let the patient pass. Resuscitation and DNR (a patient’s begging request to not be resuscitated) becomes a word he uses in his daily work and not simply for intense surgeries.

 Exhaustion isn’t a deep enough adjective to describe the fugue state he goes into. File to file, room to room, ventilator to next… he isn’t surprised when his body starts to wear down. When he no longer feels hunger and instead feels all too hot and dizzy. Telling himself it’s just because of how much he’s exerting his body while covered in layers and layers of protective clothing doesn’t help the fact that he’s starting to have more trouble breathing as he walks the hallways at a fast pace. When he begins to cough, he does what he promised himself he wouldn’t do and drives out post-shift to the desert cabin of Max Evans.

 Part of him is too desperately tired to knock, but when he arrives on the property with the cop car idle and the house dark and at peace for the night, his fury greets him with the embrace of a long-lost friend. Knuckles pound at the wood and Max answers the door with surprise and a general look of defense, and Kyle tries not to immediately punch him in the face at the fact he looks like he had woken up from a comfortable sleep.

 “Heal me.” Kyle manages to spit out.

 “I—what’s wrong?”

 “Beginning stages of respiratory distress, fever, nausea—what do you fucking think?”

 “Kyle—,” Max starts to say, the hesitation deepening, and that does it.

 “No. I have not asked you for anything in all of this, Evans. Anything!” He shouts, voice hoarse. “Not when people got sick, not when they started dying, not even when we started having to let people die on purpose. And you know what? I wasn’t going to even come and ask you now, but I can’t get sick when I’m the one here fucking saving lives out of the two of us and you’re just cruising the streets handing out goddamn traffic tickets.”

 Max’s face isn’t stony like it usually is when Kyle’s yelling at him; this time it’s crushed and guilty but not nearly enough. “What kind of hours you work this week, Evans? A nice 8 to 4? Did you get facetime with Isobel or your mom, maybe binge through a few books and movies after you’re home? Did you sit down and eat a nice dinner and or go over to drink a few beers with Guerin since you can’t get sick? Even get a nice eight hours of sleep in your own bed in your nice quiet home?”

 No response.

 “I am not asking to sequence your DNA like Liz. All I am asking is for you to let me heal people since you don’t want to.”

 A night breeze is all that makes noise for a moment as Kyle catches his breath and glares at Max, who stands quietly but is staring down at his boots before he finally looks up and nods. Max steps forward then, and Kyle sees that his eyes are actually filled with tears. Temper deflating, but still not subsiding entirely, given that not much else is able to be done; Kyle lets Max place a hand on his shoulder and feels the extremely weird feeling spread throughout his body. Something more electric than anything else, which God knew made a lot more sense concerning his powers and how the body operated with electrical nerve impulses, but that is a train of thought better left for another day. He wants to just walk away, and he almost does, but he still mutters a “thank you” before he does so.

When his nurse dies a few days later and he watches as the staff double bag her body to take to the morgue, he escapes to his office and crashes on his couch with sobs. There’s no one here to support him. He can’t go to his mother’s home and collapse into one of her comforting embraces without risking infecting her. He can’t get wasted at the Wild Pony with Maria when it’s closed. He can’t visit Rosa or Arturo at the Crashdown. Keeping his friends and family safe meant keeping them away from him. Keeping them safe meant he needed to stop pushing his head into his hands to try and control the sound of his crying and get back to work at saving the lives around them.

He gets put on leave by the hospital administrator when he’s almost arrested for decking Wyatt Long in the hospital parking lot as the idiot stood outside with a sign rallying Regiment members to make sure the hospital was told it was killing people on purpose for the election. If Jenna hadn’t been the officer on duty he would have been cuffed and put on record, jeopardizing his license, but there was some self-preserving part of him that desperately wished for his practice to be over anyway. He’s not even sure how Jenna handles it, honestly, all he remembers is her dropping him off at his house from her patrol car like she had been nothing but an uber. No matter how angry and adamant he gets, his boss refuses to bend, saying it’s for his own good given the connections the Long’s have in the town and how Kyle has worked almost 74 of the past 76 days.

Alex is the first to visit him, unannounced. When the doorbell rings Kyle is mindlessly pretending to watch some tv show in his living room that’ll distract him from his consuming thoughts about patients, so he doesn’t get up to answer. He checks his silent phone to see if he was forewarned of a visitor but sees nothing. Unsure if it’s his boss or a patient’s family, he forces himself up onto his sore feet and opens the door after grabbing a regular mask off the coffee table. Black face mask on and standing further out from the door on the porch is Alex, the usual gruff hello turned into something soft. “Hey.”

Kyle heaves a sigh. He had wondered when the pity visits would begin. “Hey. You really shouldn’t be around me, you know.”

“I’m clearly a minimum of eight feet away in an open space while masked.” Alex smarts back. “Either way, I’m worried about you.”

Scoffing, he shakes his head. “Don’t fucking worry about me. Worry about getting sick, because if I have to see another person I care about die, I--,”

“Kyle.” the other says too kindly, the sort of pacifying voice Alex reserved for only the most dire situations. “I have no idea what you’re dealing with in specifics, but my experiences do overlap with yours in some places.”

“And?”

Maybe it came out a little too rude, because Alex raises a brow, but then sighs instead. “And I’m just checking in to make sure you know people care about you.”

“Thanks, Manes.” Kyle huffs in return, managing not to roll his eyes because focusing on being blunt and abrasive was so much easier.

“Just be careful.” Alex interjects before Kyle could close the door and turn back to his show. “Dealing with the trauma of what you’re dealing with gets dark very quickly.”

“Because I punched Wyatt Long?” he spits back sarcastically.

“No, because the suicide rates for healthcare professionals are drastically increasing along with the rates of PTSD diagnoses.” Alex says flatly, ever one to be unfazed by sarcasm. “And I’ve lost more active duty members to suicide than I have combat.”

Kyle pauses, caught. Maybe Alex had known he would be, because there isn’t some way he can give a smile and reassuring wave with him like he could his mother or Liz. While Kyle hadn’t actively thought of a plan, he couldn’t pretend he had noticed signs of depression the second he was alone in his house. 

“The quiet is the worst part, right?” Alex says, all but reading his mind. “Not always because of the flashbacks, although those are horrible, but because if things are quiet then--,”

“--people are dying.” Kyle finishes, his voice raspier by the end of the three words. “Yeah, well, mine still are.”

“They’re going to.” Is what felt like a cold response, but somehow gave Kyle the understanding he’s been craving. “They’re going to die and because of your profession you’re going to be able to save some of them. Which will make you think you’re responsible to save all of them and because you’re a good person you’re going to feel guilty in ways that no one will understand for being human and failing to.”

“Failing is all I do lately.” Kyle replies. “Usually the wins feel higher than the losses as a doctor, but with this-- and no one outside of it cares. They go outside and yell about how this is about a fucking election and when it’s not the patients, it’s the hospital pretending they don’t have enough money to buy us proper protection. Or the government saying this will all go away and that it’s just a light cold.”

Alex gives a small nod. “I know. I also know telling you the same advice that you’d give another doctor of trying not to burn out and instead taking a small rest is useless. So I’m just going to drop off these dvd’s and make you report back to me the difference when you’re done.”

Star Trek and Star Wars. Kyle finds a smile tug on his lips. Alex leaves with one on his as well.

When he gives a response to Alex a few days later on how Star Wars is better not more than a few minutes later Deluca is texting him with recommendations on joining her Buffy the Vampire Slayer rewatch. There’s something sweet about the fact that people have been clearly talking about him, even if definitely borderline creepy with how nosy his circle of friends can be, but he sighs and lets Maria add him to the group chat she has with Rosa and Liz where they review each episode after the fact and even chimes in every now and then. Isobel gets added not long after due to an Instagram story Maria shares and then the group has moved onto Friends after everyone shoots down Liz for suggesting Grey’s Anatomy on behalf of Kyle. Alex is also in there, even if it’s rare he chimes in with an opinion, but once they start Friends his commentary about how much he hates Ross that gets the entire group riled up does tend to make him laugh. Even Kyle agrees with Forest-- whose opinion had been shared by Alex-- that Chandler had all too many queer-coded scenes with Joey.

His mother facetimes him daily, which given how they both don’t exactly go out much starts to become monotonous, until she begins to give in and talk about memories she has of their father. Tidbits she never would have shared with him about their adult life when he was a child or teenager. He in turn facetimes Rosa and shares some of the memories of their father as well, which as much as she tries to pretend she doesn’t want for Arturo’s sake she clearly does with the million questions she asks every single time and the small smile she gives him at the end of their calls.

Liz updates him on her work which is a nice reprieve from everyone’s normalcy and lack of medical jargon sometimes, especially when she gives him inside info on covid vaccine studies not yet published to the general public yet. Everything in him wants this more than anything else in the world right now and he texts her almost every day asking if she’s heard more news even when he knows things take time. She’s a good sport about everything, even when he shares in a very angry rant about Max Evans and how they could have helped so many more people so much more quickly with his DNA-- however selfish that might have been.

When he goes back to work, he feels refreshed, even when it makes things hit like a freight train once more. Lost in a sea of inadequacy, his feelings extend past the pandemic. Even when things return to a level of normalcy and the cases subside he gets alien medical drama thrown in his face once more, and he starts to wonder if he’ll ever recover. If he was wrong to choose this calling. If the fact he can’t help Max or Maria is a sign from above or his father that it’s time to make some career move or change location like his mother and Liz. But, like he tells Michael Guerin. He can’t think he can face his future children and say he walked away from this. Or let people die by quitting, just like Rosa warns. And so he stays and tries to heal both other people and himself.

[soul-dwelling]

instead of a manga adaption, how would you like a low key slice of life soul eater anime focused on the main cast without a big evil villian or giant enemys and foes?

Not quite.

I would split the difference.

Given the kind of fanfics I write, and the abridged series I'm grateful to have done some work on, I prefer comedic stuff to serious stuff.

I would love to see Ohkubo hand over responsibilities to almost any fan creator out there to make a slice-of-life gag series.

And this gag series would be in the vein of the koma comics at the end of Fullmetal Alchemist, or the Bungo Stray Dogs spinoff series Wan (both of which did eventually get anime adaptations by Studio BONES).

And if that gag manga got popular enough, I would have the same team at Studio BONES that did the FMA koma shorts or the Bungo Wan anime adapt that gag manga for a Soul Eater slice of life anime that is more gag-oriented.

It doesn't mean it still wouldn't hit you in the feels: Bungo Wan has some brutal moments--or even entire episodes (the Oda one). I could see some gag-filled stories turning into a serious moment, maybe fleshing out stuff the anime never did (Tsubaki did kill her brother; Liz and Patty haven't seen their mother in years).

And it could do something that Soul Eater NOT wanted to be but didn't live up to: a slice of life story that actually focuses on the main cast, not new characters.

And I actually wouldn't mind still having a big evil villain show up--if it's still in the tone of slice-of-life and, even if the more comedic tone of this series wouldn't quite line up with what we know in canon about these villains, at least fleshed them out more. I'm not saying you necessarily want to show a more "human" side to a monster like Medusa, but maybe that would make her more complicated and make how awful she was to Crona all the worse? Or maybe some gags around Asura and Lord Death for some dark comedy? Think of how Beast Wars in Japan got its own gag comic strip and how it did something new with villains like Megatron in new wacky settings--it could be fun to see Medusa be the butt of the joke after the crap she pulled.

Granted, I don't think this would appeal to the anime reboot crowd that desperately wants that reboot to happen--but since I really don't want that reboot, and since I want a new creative team behind the series, and since I would love a slice of life story that was actually about the main cast but more gag-oriented, yeah, at least I'd like it.

[weepingvoidpenguin]

The Gods’ Blessing (Pt. 5)

Part 1, Part 2, Part 3, Part 4,

Summary: In your world, everyone had a soulmate. That’s just how things went. Everyone had some sort of Indicator that their other half was out there, be it telepathy or a red string that connected these two strangers. Yours was one unspoken of, in fact, you’d never heard anyone say that they had the same Indicator as you. And because of this rarity, you longed to meet the person who could gift you with what you lacked, maybe not so much so to be with the person but more so to finally see what others took for granted. Yet, you held onto the hope that one of your best friends was your Meant-To-Be but he has his eyes on another girls and the little green monster slowly engulfs you at the deterioration of your hope.

Warning: Like 1 F-Bomb, angst, reader being reckless

Word Count: 4.3K

Author’s Note: I’m literally so sorry this took so long to come out but I lost motivation to write and randomly got it back and now I know where I want to take this story so I’m dedicating some time to this series again. ALSO I wanted to thank EVERYONE from the bottom of my heart who has asked to be tagged or complimented my writing it means SO MUCH and helps me continue to write. Everyone who has requested to be tagged will be; I’m just dumb and didn’t know I could privately respond to asks and I didn’t want to spam my page with answers so... yeah I know, I’m dumb lol ENJOY

(CAN SOMEONE PLEASE TELL ME HOW TO FIND THE ORIGINAL GIF FOR MY STORY BECAUSE WTF I SPENT LITERALLY 30 MINUTES LOOKING FOR THE RIGHT ONE BUT COULDN’T FIND IT AND I USED THE SAME TAGS AS ALWAYS AND YES THE GIFS ARE STILL THERE SOMEONE HELP PLS AND THANK YOU) (AND ALSO LITERALLY CAN’T ADD A READ MORE LINE BECAUSE I COPY AND PASTE FROM WORD SO IM SORRY TUMBLR IS JUST TRYING ME TODAY)

  You let the thunderous knocks at your door rack for nearly five minutes before you trudged out of bed with your blanket still encased around you. You kept your eyes glued to your carpet, watching as your feet slid along the floor on your way to the door. Your hand hovered over the knob as hesitation ceased your actions. 

  What if it was Peter at your door? Your heart twisted at the thought and you couldn’t stop how your hand shot out and grasped the handle. Damn how your body could betray you. 

  You noticed how your actions slowly became less your own over the past few days. Naturally, you could sit, lay, stand, eat, drink and etc. on command but whenever the thought of the brunette boy shattered its way through the walls you’d created, your hands flew towards your phone every single time. You had desired Peter, desired for him to reach out to you and clear the air, answer the questions consuming your mind, just talk to you in any way. Maybe his words wouldn’t make you feel better but at least his voice would soothe the storm brewing in your stomach.

  You had skipped school the last two days, claiming to have a fever to your mother who, as a doctor, knew better. But she was an understanding woman and gave you the time she suspected you needed to deal with whatever was bothering you. She’d tried to get you to talk but each attempt was met with silence and isolation so she left you be, only occasionally leaving a warm drink on your nightstand.

  You hadn’t just isolated yourself from your mother though; you’d completely disregarded the messages you were getting from MJ and Ned. You tried to keep away from your phone, in all honesty. You wanted to disconnect, to just feel what you felt and ride the wave until the waters soothed themselves. But with the amount of times you’d checked your inbox for a new message from Peter or merely went back to read old texts that used to bring a smile to your face, you’d say disconnecting had failed miserably. In fact, every time you checked your phone only made the sinking feeling in your stomach liven with a fresh ache and you’d lay right back down.

  Your window remained locked now. For the most part. Some nights, for about an hour or so, you’d unlatch it, idiotically hoping that somehow Peter would be aware of your actions and know that you, in a moment of weakness, wanted to see him again. That your silent invitation had been noticed and he would come running to you. But, of course, it didn’t work like that.

  You were released from the deep constraints of your thoughts with another set of rapping on the door. You sighed and brought yourself to look through the peephole only to be met with an eye already glaring through it. You let out a quiet shriek at the expression strewn about MJ’s face and slowly unlocked the door.

  She didn’t wait for you to open it though, taking matters into her own hands and flinging the entryway open to storm through and slam shut behind her. You stood frozen, watching as she glowered with her arms crossed over her chest. You two stood in silence like that for a few moments and she continued to stare, waiting for you to give an explanation for your behavior for the past few days.

  She knew better than to think you were sick. Even when you were sick you always messaged her back but this mood was something she had yet to experience in all her years of friendship with you.

  “So?” She practically snarled and you gulped.

  You scanned her up and down. She was entirely on the defense here. Her arms crossed, foot tapping on the ground and the disapproving look of the century plastered on her face all scrambled together to serve you one very pissed off MJ.

  She waited for a response, not breaking her composure for even a fraction of a second. The anger radiating off her body was more than you could handle in the moment, especially when it was accompanied with the sorrow encasing your very being.

  Her expression softened in the slightest as she studied you, noting how you couldn’t meet her gaze, not that it had been a warm one to begin with but still. Your hair was in shambles and the deep, dark circles under your eyes conveyed more than you were willing to bring yourself to admit. And when you finally looked up at her she took your desperate embrace with ease; all of her anger diminishing as she held you.

  “Hey,” She soothed, running her hand up and down your back through the blanket, “what’s going on?”

  You looked up at her, only slightly pulling back from the hug, “There’s something I have to tell you,” ~   That first day that you had kicked Peter out of your apartment he didn’t go on patrol that night. He was too distraught. Instead, he trudged home with his head hung low and his thoughts drowning him in regret.

  He’d been weak that afternoon. He couldn’t help it. It’d been so long since you two had hung out together alone, aside from the rare occasion last week, and so much had happened within that time. 

  That first night, when the two of you kissed and the stars had come to life for the first time in his existence, everything in those few moments had been perfect; no, better than perfect. The world had burst to life under your touch and suddenly his years of yearning and longing for you had made sense. The world had been right and just for once. For one goddamn minute.

  And then, because of that moment that he hungered to relive again, he’d lost you. Maybe permanently. 

  How could he have been so stupid? How could he have just given in to the desire pining for your touch? He couldn’t have helped it. The way you looked, the smile gleaming on your face, the way you were straddling and hovering above him; it all called out to him. You called out to him. His eyes traced down from your eyes to your neck and then lower to the bit of exposed cleavage in his face. He blushed in the moment, feeling guilty for letting his mind wander to those treacherous places that caused his imagination to spiral. And, oh, how his thoughts spiraled. 

  That need to touch you, to hold you, to kiss you, to be with you had made him weak in the moment. But had it really been so wrong to give in? After all, you are his soulmate and if it were okay to touch anyone the way his body had urged him to, why not the person that he was meant for and was meant for him?

  No, it hadn’t wrong to give in because from the look that glazed your eyes and elicited your body when you connected, he knew you wanted to give in too. He knew you wanted to be with him just as much as he wanted to be with you. 

  And that’s why he wanted to go over that day. He had planned to tell you everything. He even had his suit in his backpack to show you but then it all went wrong. He’d prematurely exposed the truth but in a way that made it seem secretive. He hadn’t meant to be secretive; he was just scared.

  Plus, he finally had the girl he’d been working to get for the past few months and he had to just throw that all away. At that point, his feeling for Liz were real just miniscule compared to the ones he attempted to drown out for you. Not to mention, Liz liked Peter as he was without the hero complex but (Y/N) liked Spider-Man, a literal superhero. 

  Maybe that had been the reason that (Y/N) had kicked him out so quickly. Was she disappointed that her mysterious hero had turned out to be none other than Peter Parker? Was being Peter really that bad in her eyes? No, (Y/N) loved Peter . . . platonically. 

  But Liz . . . Liz liked Peter, not Spider-Man. (Y/N) didn’t want her shy best friend, she wanted her mysterious hero. (Y/N) didn’t like Peter for who he was, only who he presented himself to be. Her feelings were solely based on a hidden character under the red and blue suit. She didn’t want Peter Parker. She couldn’t want Peter Parker. Peter Parker wasn’t enough for her and he never would be.

  He shook his head at the thoughts, hating how his conclusion could tug at his chest so fiercely. Nonetheless, he let himself fester on that idea until it became his mentality.

  (Y/N) was not interested in Peter. ~   You could hardly communicate everything that had happened over the course of the last few weeks to MJ with all the tears and sobs interrupting the story. She caught onto the gist of it, though. Peter was Spider-Man, Spider-Man was her soulmate, Peter was with Liz, etc. 

  She let you cry until you fell asleep that night and she stayed with you the next day so she could force you to go to school, even if it was Friday. 

  Her alarm woke you up the next morning and you groaned as you shoved your pillow over your ear to drown out the sound. MJ rolled around, cutting the alarm off and cuddling closer to you before shoving you out of bed.

  “What the hell?” You asked, reaching out for the pillow that was pried from your hold. 

  MJ held the cushion just out of your reach and dangled it in the air, “Good morning!” She cheerily shouted, very unlike herself.

  You groaned in response and shoved the blanket over your head just for that to be ripped away as well. “Get up, you’re coming to school,”

  A huff escaped your lips as the sunlight shone even from behind closed eyelids. You wanted to argue and stay home but you would just get hell for it and end up going to school anyway so you used that time of argument to get ready instead. MJ had woken you up early enough to let you shower, as you hadn’t recently, and made breakfast while you got ready.

  In the stillness of your room, you observed your reflection in the mirror. Your eyes were still puffy from the crying and there was a slight dry rash from wiping your nose so much but other than that, you looked practically normal. You ran your hands down your body, hating that you put in a little extra effort in your looks to catch Peter’s attention. In the midst of shamefully admiring yourself, you caught a glimpse of the pictures tacked onto the wall behind you. You whirled around and your gaze landed on the brightest of them all. A picture of the four of you sitting in the grass, MJ on one side of you and Peter on the other. You removed the tack from the photo and smiled down at it. The picture had been taken the first time you all hung out together, the same day you’d told MJ about your feelings for Peter only to be met with a knowing look from her. She could read you like a book that woman. 

  “Hey, breakfast is ready-” MJ burst through the door and cut herself off at the sight of you. “What’s that?”

  “Do you remember this photo?” You asked, holding it up for her to see.   Her eyes softened and she had a small smile, “I have this same picture in a drawer somewhere,”

  “Do you remember what I told you that day?”

  MJ looked up at you, her eyebrows furrowed as she waited for an explanation.

  “That’s the day I told you that I thought I liked Peter,” She looked down at the photo and handed it back to you, “It’s like . . . since the beginning it’s been him. It’s always been him.” You placed the photo back in its original place, “And now I know why,”

  Later that day in the cafeteria, the table had been full of tension. MJ throwing glares at Peter, Peter brushing them off his shoulder, your head crammed into a textbook, Ned trying to break the tension and Liz having no idea what the hell was going on. 

  “You guys are so cute together,” MJ cheerily spoke up after a while, looking at Peter and Liz’s interlocked fingers.

  “Thanks,” Peter stated bluntly, his gaze fixated on MJ.

  “I just didn’t think you would end up dating a guy like that, Liz, but now that I’m looking at it, it makes sense,”

  “A guy like what?” Liz raised an eyebrow, concerned there was something about Peter that she didn’t know.

  “A liar-”

  “MJ, can you help me with this equation?” You interjected, hoping she hadn’t heard what MJ said.

  “I don’t know why you’d need my help, you’re the best one here at math,” she slyly retorted, not once breaking her eye contact with Peter.

  “I’ll help you,” Ned spoke up and the both of you exchanged worried glances. It suddenly dawned on you that Ned probably already knows Peter’s secret; which means, he already knew about you as well.

  “Anyway,” Liz spoke up after a few tense moments of silence, “I’m throwing a party tonight at my place, everyone’s invited!” 

  “And why would we-”

  “Sounds fun! We’ll be there!” You spoke up quickly, glaring at MJ to shut her up. She rolled her eyes but sat back in her chair and complied.

  You’d kept your head down for most of the lunch period but had to snap your attention up to keep MJ tamed. Your gaze wandered over to the direction you felt a pull coming from and was surprised when you met Peter’s gaze. You were almost frozen, caught in a mixture of crying, panicking and keeping it together. Still, you couldn’t pry your attention from Peter so you dwelled in it instead. 

  He looked tired. The dark circles under his eyes were more apparent than usual and his hair appeared to lack a bit of life, the curls on his face falling flat rather than their normal bounciness. You let yourself study the man before you and that’s when it happened again.

  Instead of his normal physique, an outline of his person took form and the wounds on his body glowed to catch your attention. He had a few cuts and scrapes here and there, some bruises on his shins and forearms, not to mention the busted eyebrow that you’d failed to notice under what you assumed was makeup. You squinted your eyes at this and Peter seemed to catch on to what was happening. He grew uncomfortable under your gaze and forced yourself to retract it, fighting the urge to reach out your hand and place it over the split skin on his face. Not that he’d appreciate it.

  You sighed and closed the textbook before shoving it in your bag and standing up seconds before the bell rang. MJ followed suit and walked you to your next class, knowing you usually take the route with Peter and punched your shoulder lightly when it was time for her to go.

  “Meet at my locker after school? I need help picking an outfit and we can stop by your place to pick some stuff up,” 

  MJ nodded in agreement and you turned to enter the classroom but walked into a hastily walking Peter. You reached out your hand to steady yourself and grabbed his forearm which, unfortunately, was not covered in fabric.

  The warmth in your fingertips soon sprawled all over your body and you could moan at the ease it brought along with it. The ache in your heart subsided and the strength of the pull towards him tripled until you really were being shoved against him, your chest pressed against his own and his arms wrapped around you as if to keep you there.

  You wanted to pull away but the fact that Peter was even holding you right now soothed the agony in your bones and you needed this for just a few seconds more. You let the sensation overtake you, submitting yourself to its enticing comfort and when Peter’s hands gripped the back of your shirt tighter to pull you deeper into him, you let him.

  This was right. Being with him was right. How could it not be? How could being with your soulmate be wrong? The two of you were literally made for each other as were all soulmates but there resided something deeper between both of you that caused a very physical gravitational pull to one another. Though you’d heard of instances similar to that, you’d never heard of it being physical, only an emotional pull. And that physical pull somehow forced you two into each other’s arms where you were fighting the urge to give in.

  With the little strength that you could muster, you pried yourself from him and you exchanged a worried glance with each other, “Did you-”

  “Feel that? Yeah,” he said, bewildered at what just happened.

  “So, you didn’t-”

  “Pull you? No. And you didn’t-”

  “Suddenly forgive you and throw myself into your arms?” You spoke with venom and cocked your head to the side, the little distance between you allowing some of your anger to return. “No,”

  Peter wanted to roll his eyes and brush off the comment, he really did but he could see through you. The pain you tried to hide was laid barren for him, he couldn’t miss it if he tried. It shouted for his attention, demanding his explanation and wanting nothing more than to dissipate and leave you at peace. But he couldn’t grant you that. He couldn’t bring himself to beg for you when you didn’t even want him; at least, not the real him.

  You finally walked away and took your usual seat in class, forcing your gaze down so you wouldn’t accidentally make eye contact with Peter as he took his place next you. You chuckled at that. ~   Liz’s house buzzed with energy, most of the people already arrived and under some kind of influence. You had to give it to her, she knew how to throw a party. Not that you’d been to very many of them considering MJ was your best friend.  

  MJ appeared beside you with two cups in her hand and offered you one, “Oh, I figured you were going to chug them down simultaneously,”

  “Don’t tempt me.” She laughed and you took a gulp from yours, finishing it off in a few seconds, “Maybe you would like to do that, though,”

  You smiled sheepishly, “I’m gonna get another one,”

  “Make sure you leave some for everybody else,” she hollered over the music.

  You giggled and sauntered over to the table, ignoring the beginnings of a lure coming from your left. You plucked one of the cups up and brought the brim to your lips, letting the liquid burn its way down your throat and rejoined MJ.

  “Hey, so I was thinking,” you started, keeping your focus anywhere other than where it wanted to be, “where did you hear that story about the gods and the stars and all that?”

  “Huh?” She shouted over the music and despite the volume of the noise, you could still filter out Peter’s voice through it all.

  You grabbed MJ’s arm and pulled her towards the door, “Outside!” You shouted and she followed.

  Once the fresh breeze hit your face, you took a deep breath in, attempting to clear out any negative emotions. MJ took your hand and led you away from the front of the house where quite a few people were still crowding around and settled on the rooftop. She grabbed a ladder off the floor and held the ladder while you climbed up.

  “What were you trying to say?” She asked once you two had gotten comfortable.

  “I was asking about where you heard the story about being chosen by the Gods,” you stated, taking a sip from the cup and already feeling a slight warmth in your cheeks. This cup was definitely stronger than the previous one.

  She cocked her head a little and raised an eyebrow in confusion.

  “You know! About the Gods’ choosing a few special spirits to have this intense love or something,”

  “What are you talking about?” 

  “Like, about my Indicator and the stars and my soulmate,”

  Her eyebrow remained raised in your direction.

  Now it was your turn to get confused, “The story you told me when we were all at your house watching movies. The day I went on the first date with Brad,”

  “Dude, I have no idea what you’re talking about,” she admitted, a concerned look on her face.

  “Yes, you do! You’re the one that told me that story, how could you not remember it?” you practically yelled. “When I got mad because of Liz and Peter and went to your room, that’s when you told me!”

  “I remember you being bothered but I figured you needed a breather so I let you have it,”

  Was it MJ that had told you? You scoffed, yes, of course it was. Who else would it be? She was the one that walked into the room and comforted you.   “MJ, stop playing,” you scolded.

  “(Y/N) . . . are you feeling okay?” she asked and you glared at her in response. “Dude, I swear I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

  You shot up from your spot and struggled to find footing so you raised your arms to balance yourself. You had drunk a little more than you thought but managed to steady yourself. MJ held out a hand to you in caution, raising them to catch you.

  “Something’s not right,” you said, taking a small step back from your friend. You were certain it was MJ in the room with you, the memory was clear as day.

  The reason you had even brought it up in the first place was because you wanted to know where she heard the lore from considering you’d never heard anything like it. You had been ashamed of your Indicator because you’d never come to know of any other person who had the same one as you ever. Not even in the history books. It was just completely unheard of. So, why would MJ know the legend? 

  “(Y/N), sit down.” MJ ordered, her words concrete.

  “No, no, no, no, this doesn’t make sense,” you spoke aloud, your mind trying to understand the events of that night. You took half a step back from MJ as if the added distance would deny her truth. And it was her truth. You could always tell when MJ was lying, years of friendship could attest to that but her words were genuine and her confusion was too.

  “Stop moving, (Y/N),” she growled, slowly coming closer to you.

  You created the same distance from you as before and she stopped her movements altogether, her eyes glued to the back of your foot. You tried to wrack your brain around it but no matter how you tried to understand it, it just didn’t make sense. How would MJ know the lore for your Indicator when you’d studied extensively to try and find something-anything to make you feel less alone in your path. How had she just randomly come across such information and why hadn’t you asked her right then and there where she heard it from? 

  “(Y/N)!” You heard your name shouted from behind you and whipped around, the force of the action causing you to tip over the edge of the roof and your heart stopped as you watched MJ jump out to catch you.

  The fall was quick but scarier than any rollercoaster you’d been on. It elicited the same sensations but held more finality to it. 

  “(Y/N)!” MJ screamed from above but you kept your eyes glued to the ground when a figure swung into your line of sight and clung onto you in midair before landing on a patch of grass on the side of the house. 

  The action had knocked the wind out of you and you struggled to regain your breath, your eyes glued to your feet and how they rested against the ground. MJ flew down the ladder and raced with Ned to get to your side. She hadn’t even reached it before she started yelling at you.

  “Are you fucking crazy?” She yelled, kneeling by your side and encasing your face in her hands, failing to draw your attention to her.

  Your body shook uncontrollably, the fear from before just now catching up to you. But it wasn’t the fear from nearly dying. It was from whoever the hell you spoke to in MJ’s house. 

  “Can’t you see she’s scared?” Peter yelled at MJ and you winced. You’d never heard Peter yell like that before.

  Peter picked you up and placed you in his lap, his hands attempted to center you in on him but you merely looked through him. You were out of it and you couldn’t bring yourself to come back to the present.

  “(Y/N),” Peter whispered, worry and fear laced in his tone, “Are you okay?”   It took a minute of letting the fear make its course through you before you zeroed in on Peter’s expression. It was the warmth coming from his hands that brought you back.

  “Who was she?”

Tag List: @the-ducks-umbrella @free-pool-trash @wherewecomealive @eridanuswave @watson-emma @imjuliabtw @powerstrangerdacre @chess-anon @le-yona @dear-selena @becausewelie @myr5heart @michaels-endtime @lastupidebichette @yetmeema @bisexualfangirlsblog @akabaneyuriko @allthings-sandy @foreverpark @courtmarie2016 @maya-t-13 @copxland04 @lostinwonderland314 @theolwebshooter @alainabooks143 @dark-night-sky-99 @shameless-dani @memequeend @chewymoustachio @thewayilookatbacon @rvgrsbrns @jaimewho @sexysamsungl @stitchers-in-stitches @spideyyeet @mira-9-rose @racewife2004 @eternallyanxiousandstressed @lost-xim @notavintagecliche @peteysbaby @awkwardnesshabitat @lushalternative @deans-1967sbaby @phrogtheguitarist @xwackk @theatergeek2000 @elenatalia @littlechillies @l-a-a-e @a—1—1—3 @herondalism @jxhnnysbxby @jessyballet @astralnyx @the-nonsenseblog @ornella0910 @parkeret @utterlyconfused-tm @oh-whatabeautiful-parker @fishswimbetterunderwater @reysclana @notavintagecliche @homosexualjohnwayne @procrastinatingmurder @delicately-important-trash @honeybutterparker @chelsxxsworld @herstolenheart @petalduck @utopiamiroh @roses-raindrops-and-writing @qxeen-of-hearts @beansat3am @buckysjuicyplums @champagnesugamama @just-a-littlebit-of-everything @primsa-the-pretend-avenger @used-avocado @martinafigoli @ramblingsnfandom @zofty15 @colorfulartbywriters @keitkeat 

[anonymoussongbird]

Mother (Trigger Warning)

Stop being so childish and pathetic.

God, not everything is about you.

Your life is not that bad.

I wish I never had you.

Why don’t you just go die.

I wish your father wanted you, so that you

can go stay be him.

 Yeah, I wish he wanted me too, thought Liz while she sat on her bright orange bed in her dull grey room. She was staring at her wall; at a picture she drew a few years back. Even though it was old and if it was done now, it probably would have looked a lot better, but she just couldn’t help but look at it.

It had become routine for Liz, she either has a good day, but then when she goes to her room and her thoughts eventually scare away whatever good came from that day and if her day was bad, she had to suffer through the emptiness in her mind and body. Never once could she have a good day that would stay a good day, there was always something or someone who would come and ruin it.

But you see Liz was taught that you keep your mouth shut because anything she has to say is not that important. She was taught many wonderous things by the person she calls mom.

Liz’s relationship with her mother was tough to describe, even to herself. Her mother was someone who looked good to those who truly didn’t know her, but those unfortunates who do, have different ideas.

The people who know her better then most still never actually saw who she truly was, all except her daughter Elizabeth and poor Liz suffered for that.

                                                 -----------------------

 Liz sits on the floor of her mother’s friend’s bathroom, unable to get up. Her mind is fogged, her body feels weak, and she was hungry. She could still hear the party going on outside and knew that she had to get up because they were to leave soon.

She slowly pulls herself up, having to use to wall for support and makes her way back outside. She spots her mom in the corner and walks to her, still uncomfortable with her mother’s choice of friends.

The night carried on with her mother feeding her more and more alcohol, soon Liz could barely stand let alone walk. When it was time for them to go home, it took Liz and her mother almost an hour to just get to the car, having to stop and pet the little black cat outside the door.

The drive home was quickly forgotten and soon Liz was stumbling out the car door and trying to make her way into the house. Her mother was no help, being quite drunk herself. Eventually, Patrick and Liz’s younger brother come out and help the drunk women and her 14-year-old daughter into their home.

As you could expect, the two drunks go from laughing and stumbling everywhere to having conversations about how happy they were and crying so much while doing so that it would be difficult to understand anything they were saying through sober ears.

Liz never truly remembered why she ends up doing what she does next, but what she does is the reason why her mother and daughter relationship started to noticeably crumble.

The flashes of what she does remember, show her sitting on her floor with a blade in her hand. She was crying, she was shaking, and she felt like she couldn’t breathe. Then she slides the blade over her wrist, not too hard but enough to draw blood. Once she was satisfied that she could handle more, she decided to go deeper.

That second cut is what brought her to reality again. As soon as she pulled that blade across her skin, and she felt that sharp sting travel through her arm did she realize what she was doing. Liz started to panic now.

Fuck

Fuck

What have I done?

No no no no no no

Liz runs to the bathroom, now somewhat sober, trying to clean away the blood that was pouring down her arm. She was so frantic that she wasn’t even trying to hide it while she was running through the house to the bathroom. No one noticed what was going on, no one cared enough to look up.

She finally managed to get everything under control and that was when the shock settled in. Liz’s mind goes blank, and she just walks her way into the living room and sits on the couch.

No one said a word to her, they were in their own little world. Liz didn’t know what to think, or what to do. She was slowly starting to feel nauseous and eventually had to run to the bathroom once again.

Her mother seemed to notice her daughter this time and went to the bathroom to check and see if Liz was alright. When her mother popped her head from around the door, she saw Liz on the floor sobbing, while clutching her arm to her chest. Doing the motherly thing she is meant to do; she hugs her and rubs her back soothingly while she keeps repeating the words,

It’s okay princess.

You can talk to me about anything.

I’m here for you.

I love you so much.

What’s wrong pumpkin.

 Those words eventually broke down Liz’s walls like they usually did, and she told her mother what she had done, and her mother hugged her, which made Liz cry even more. Her mother’s reaction was nothing more than caring, loving and understanding. She told Liz about her past and how she did the same thing too. Her mother made her promise that she would never do it again and that if she ever needed someone to talk to, she can always come to her.

All of this happened while they sat on the cold bathroom floor and when they left the bathroom it was like someone had taken their world and had put some dull, life draining filter over it. Gone was the caring and understanding mother, that Liz so desperately needed and, in her place, stood something else. Something vile and cruel.

It all happened so fast but somehow Liz and her mother started arguing about something, that no one could remember.

Liz ends up against a wall with her mothers’ hands around her throat, while she screams at Liz.

You are pathetic.

You are so disgusting.

Slut.

You will never get anywhere.

You ruined me.

You want everything about you.

 Her mother would scream so badly that there would be foam forming around her mouth. She would grab Liz and throw stuff at her, while she screams things at her that no 14-year-old should hear.

At one point in the evening, Liz’s mother had somehow climbed on top of her and was clawing at her face. Liz didn’t know what to do, so she just pushed and pushed, trying so hard to get her mother off her and eventually she did.

Her mother flies back into the cupboard with a loud bang and that’s when the other people in the house decided to come running in. Her mother didn’t even miss a beat before she started crying out,

She hurt me.

I did nothing to her.

I love her, why would she do this.

She needs to leave.

She’s scaring me.

 All Liz could do was stand there and listen to her mothers lies, knowing no one would listen to her. She was always the bad guy; it was always her fault. She wasn’t allowed to have problems; she wasn’t allowed to let her emotions slip.

                                       ------------------------------

Liz is now 18 and has yet to finally break free.

[geekeciel]

So...erm... I want to write...

So I haven't written a fanfiction in years...and the most I did in the past was write cheesy smutty role plays with my ex friend. And haven’t really done any since. 

But I have this idea rolling around in my head, of a Kuro AU/Reincarnation story, where Seb is a modern day Clairvoyant with a Haunted doll, containing the spirit of Ciel. 

I’ve typed up a quick brain storm, with my own Haunted Doll ‘Alina’ sat next to me, and the ideas kept rolling out of me. Problem is.... my grammar sucks XD

But... would anybody be interested in reading this?

 ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Brain storm - Paranormal Investigator KURO AU

Characters - 

Seb Micheals - Reincarnation of Sebastian Michealis. Is Clarvoyaint and Claraudient. 

Sees spirits like normal people, but only after the death of his mother. He saw spirits as a child, but when he ran in to her room in fear at the age of five, after seeing the spirit of a young girl with pigtails in his room, she (an accomplished medium herself) closed his third eye to protect him until such a time that he was ready to deal with his gifts. 

Upon her death at the age of 18, his third eye reopened gradually, until he was able to see spirit like he used to. He runs a successful ghost hunting channel, and hosts seminars and offers readings and party packs for people who are intrigued with the supernatural, with his best friend Agni. 

He lives in an apartment with his boyfriend Bard, who is an agnostic, but is slowly becoming a full believer. Seb loves to cook, regardless of the tiny kitchen in their apartment, and Agni often gate crashes the place for Horror Movie Curry Night.

Ciel Phantomhive - The Doll - Seb's haunted doll, a small porcelain doll, dressed in a frilly skirt, mismatched striped socks and a elaborate hat, like a circus performer. He has small delicate diamonds painted on his cheek in blue, and the right side of his face has been cracked, causing his eye to go missing. 

He was manufactured by the Funtom company (a now defunct business, due to a decline in sales during the First World War.) Such a vintage doll should have been worth a fortune, however Seb only paid the small amount of £10 for him, which he assumes is due to the damage. Ciel's spirit is a grumpy soul, but harmless. He has a dislike towards Seb's boyfriend Bard, after Bard hid the doll in a cupboard during a visit from his little brother Finian, who is deathly afraid of dolls.  

Agni - Seb's best friend, and his fellow Ghost Hunter. He owns a second Porcelain doll, named Soma, who he believes to have been a close relation in a previous life. When ever he uses the spirit box with it, he gets a lot of jabbering all at once, that he can never make out. Its almost sounds like the spirit cannot speak fast enough. 

He has owned Soma since a young boy, when his uncle gave him it as a present for his 6th birthday, which when asked by his parents why he had bought their male child a doll, he simply replied "I had an overwhelming sense that he needed it".

Bard - Seb's unwitting boyfriend who is simply a poor victim of circumstance. He met Seb during a seminar at college, where a team were doing a paranormal presentation, and had invited Seb and Agni (along with Soma the doll, Seb hadn't found Ciel as of yet). 

Bard had been sceptical by the details Seb had given during his readings to the audience, until he picked up on the spirit of a woman called Mey who had passed recently. Bard had frozen in place before lifting his hand slowly, tears springing to his eyes upon hearing the name of his late girlfriend. Seb had given him a gentle smile, and said "I'm being told, that I need to speak with you after the presentation, as Mey has a private message for you." 

After the seminar, Bard had approached Seb on the podium, and Seb leads him left of the stage while Agni packs up the equipment. "Mey wishes for you to know that she's in a much better place now, and that she no longer feels pain. She also wants you to know that you need to move on, and find new happiness... and... she says... what?" 

He looks to the space next to him, a light blush on his cheeks, before looking back at Bard, chuckling softly. "She says... I have a nice ass... and you need to take me out for coffee." 

Bard laughs, knowing his late girlfriend always did have a wicked sense of humor. "Well... If May is cool with me taking you out... then how about we go now?" And the rest is history.  

Soma - Soma is the spirit that resides inside the doll in Agni's possession. Soma funnily chose a female Romani doll, from a collection called Leonardo. He has claimed through spirit box session that he chose her "because She's pretty". 

He always jabbers too quickly in his sessions, so Agni has only managed to catch small details from the spirit. He calls Agni his "Kansama" which Agni finds hilarious. 

He also has caught the word "Prince" several times, plus "Curry Buns" which Seb always screams out "RECIPE PLEASE SOMA!"... Somas answer is always "YOURS!" which Seb is none the wiser about.

  The Little Girl - The girl in young Seb's bedroom. She never spoke, although Seb always got the sense that he WANTED to.... desperately. He and his mother nicknamed her Queen Liz, due to her pretty dress and sense of nobility. 

She only ever stood in the corner of his room, staring at Seb when he was trying to sleep. It didn't bother him, until the night he turned five... and she took a step closer. Then another the next night. And another... until finally by the seventh night, she was right next to his bed. 

Only now did she finally utter one word. 

"Sebaaaastian". 

This resulted in Seb screaming in fear, running to his mothers room and crying in her arms. His mother closed his third eye that evening, and once the the boy was peacfeully sleeping in her bed, went to his room herself, finding the little girl sat on Seb's bed weeping. 

"He wouldn't listen... My beloved needs him... and he wont listen." 

Seb's mother sighs, kneels in front of the little girl, and whispers "He's but a child, Queen Liz. So much younger than yourself. What ever your beloved needs from him, it must wait a little while longer." 

The little girl continues to cry "But... my mother and father are calling from that bright light in the corner... But... I can't leave my beloved" 

Seb's mother smiles softly. "Go to the light, little one. Your beloved will join you, when my son is ready to help him." The little girl moves to the light slowly, throwing a gaze back to the world of the living behind her. "Don't make me wait too long... Ciel". And with those words, she is gone.

-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

THATS ALL I HAVE SO FAR.... AND NOW ITS OUT HERE FOR ALL TO SEE.... AND AAAAAAARGH! 

*Goes to hide*

[lambourngb]

he’s got a smart mouth but a good heart - Michael Guerin

It’s Day 2, celebrating characters, and much to my own surprise, at the end of season 2, Michael Guerin decided to move into my brain and take up residence. Obviously I still love Alex Manes (He lives first and foremost in my brain since 1x08), but there was something about how Michael buried his own pain about his mother to help everyone in season two that rang pretty true to my own life right now. I didn’t always like what he was doing in season 2 but I understood it.

Anyway, when I find a story that celebrates how complicated he is, I cheer and rejoice- so here’s a few of the stories that I have gone back to again and again.

Truck stop knives and other assessors of childhood @angsty-aliens (13,200) I can’t lie, I love a good trope story, and I especially love a good sci-fi trope story, so this story hits all of my buttons. It takes our two science nerds, Liz and Michael, mucking around, and accidentally creating a version of Michael- but not just any version, but the child who hitchhiked to Fosters ranch, completely over humans and desperate to find his family. The kid who was feral from neglect and abuse... he was the cutest thing and the most mortifying thing that ever happened to Michael to be displayed and shown. This story takes the de-aged trope and turns it on its head, and oh yeah, there’s a sweet backdrop to Michael and Alex getting together.

Implicit Memories of You by @ninswhimsy (3464) - So this is an amnesia story canon-divergent story set after 2x11 basically, where they use the mind erasing drug on Michael. I know, I’m reccing this about Michael characterization, but it’s so solidly him after all the memories are stripped away and he’s acting on instincts, locked in a room to torture Alex with before death. There’s so much going on in so few words, something that Nin is a master at, especially the ephemeral remembrances of his mother that Michael has- oof right in the feels.

Maybe this time (he’ll stay) by @hannah-writes​ (7700) This is a sequel to one of my favorite stories I recced last year, dealing in alternative timelines where in one world, Michael is lost and alone and has pushed Alex away, and in another world where Alex came home from Iraq in a flagged draped coffin. It answers the question, what about Mikey? Where’s his happy ending? The confirmation of the multiverse means there’s an Alex out there who needs him- and through trial and error, Michael finds him. The world building in both stories is top notch, because for every action, there’s a reaction and reason shaping Michael.

Constant as the northern star by celzmccelz (53,000) - don’t know the tumblr here - This is an Mpreg, and it starts solidly after 1x13 and goes AU from there. But what if in the 100 mile drive home from Caulfield, Michael and Alex share a grief-induced moment of insanity where they fall back into their oldest language- sex for comfort, and then Michael does everything he does in the finale, including turning toward Maria, what if there was a souvenir? Despite the trope of mpreg, this is just how I see Michael, deeply in love with Alex but unable to trust that Alex feels the same depth in return. The friendships in here are also top-notch, from Kyle being a baby-doctor, to Isobel having her own Max-related spiral unable to let go of her brother only to refocus on Michael, to Liz fucking off with Rosa for the first half of the story because she’s caught up in her own grief (which turned out to be canon!). And there’s a whole plot here! With Jesse Manes being the worst.

Leave the light on by @sabrinachill​ (36,900) - Confession time- I love fake dating as a trope, I know, shocked right? But I especially love it with RNM because Malex are exes by 1x03. Mattie nailed the dynamic of pining and the assumption of unrequited love so well in this story. Although the POV switches here a bit between chapters, (and Alex is fabulous) what I really really loved was how she wrote Michael, in love but convinced that he’s messed up too much for Alex. Aware of his faults but not in a sullen way, but an acknowledgment that he was in a bad place and Alex hasn’t always been the best remedy him in the past. It was a very mature take on the “give me another chance” trope in Malex reunion stories, where both sides had a share of blame. The plot was suspenseful and tight (how do people do that???) with a climax that honestly shocked me! I really enjoyed rereading it while I prepped my rec-sets, and I won’t be surprised if this story isn’t mentioned by everyone doing ‘Creators Week’. It’s worthy of all the love.

Temporary wounds by @prouvaireafterdark​ (7800) - How many times can I rec this story? Hopefully you’re not bored by my adoration of this Lynne.  So even though it’s set post-season 1 with the assumption that Michael/Maria will fizzle out while Alex/Forrest date- it’s actually perfectly set for season 3 (an author who is psychic??). As a rule, I hate jealousy as a trope, but this story has the only type of jealousy I want to see on screen- where Michael wonders what was missing inside of him that Alex didn’t want to be public during their long affair (even with the acknowledgment that Alex was too scared before)- like that type of sad pining is my catnip!

The first who ever did by nostalijinks (33,000) post season 1, but really it also stands pretty well after season 2.  There was an interview during season 1 I think that talked about how all Michael really wanted was to be a hero to Alex (the way he stepped in front of Jesse as a kid)  but he thinks he failed at it since Alex enlisted. That failure soured him in ways but he never stops trying, for Alex. This is a really well done 5 times plus 1 story, with an overreaching arc of reconciliation between Alex and Michael, starting as teenagers, then as adults while Michael is with Maria, then as friends, real friends, trying to support Alex as Alex dates. The whole emotional journey of maturity that Michael takes here is so well done, where there’s no real villains in the friend group. I just love it. I wish the author had written 100 more like this one, but as a standalone work it’s epic.

The person that you’d take a bullet for is behind the trigger by @iwontbeyourmedicine​ (25,000) Ly has a very large body of work, that you could spend days paging through on AO3 or tumblr, but this one hits two of my kinks hard- the amnesia story line and true love conquers all. So three fandoms ago I was huge into Steve/Bucky, that iconic moment in Cap 2 where Bucky breaks through the brainwashing has never left me. This story takes my love for that moment, and makes it Malex. Alex gets programmed by his family and set loose on his friends, on the aliens and it’s a shitshow bloodbath since he’s really fucking good at kicking ass. Michael is caught between keeping everyone safe and trying not to hurt Alex, and the tension is just top-notch. I love how it’s not an immediate fix either, the way they circle each other in the aftermath, wanting to come home, but home would be a totally new step for both of them. Just chef’s kiss good at joining action, angst, and romance together.

Into the palm of your hand by @haloud​ (5900) hal is a treasured friend, so I am admitting some bias here, but we both enjoy talking about how wonderful and sad Michael is and how desperately we enjoy poking at that softness and then wrapping him up with love again... so this story was written pre-shamegate (and if you know what that means, I’m sorry) but it matches my head canon of what the history of hiding does to someone. The internalization of believing maybe there’s a reason behind the hiding that has nothing to do with homophobic townies. Alex has an ex boyfriend come to town, and he doesn’t tell Michael. And omg the journey hal takes us on with Michael’s spiral and Brave Little Toaster act was so wonderful and painful and real. The communication between these two was top notch as they worked through a road bump from the past, and let’s face it, once we get our malex back, these things are going to happen, and it will either tear them apart or bring them closer together- I prefer to believe it will be closer together.

There is beauty in a failure by @jule1122​ (2400) There’s been a few Greg and Michael stories to pop up on my radar after 2x10, and this one was one of my favorites. This is a Greg who pulls no punches in exposing his brother’s past to Michael, but also gives Michael the space to work through what he wants. It’s an AU from 2x12, that allowed Michael to break up with Maria for basically the same reasons that Maria used on him in 2x13. The way Michael is able to what he wants and communicate it Alex in the end- so good! We can only hope to see something similar in season 3.

I don’t know what to think (but I think of supernovas) by @queersirius​ (3900) This story is a delight from start to finish- I mean frustrated cursing turns the console on into a hologram who then takes the most pleasing form to Michael’s eyes? SIGN ME UP for those shenanigans. I fucking loved how Isobel saw it first too. And then the comedy of Alex discovering it? And what happens afterwards? Oh it’s so delicious. Now of course, full disclosure, this light-hearted romp through the feels also inspired me  to think up a much much sadder version of Michael building an AI for companionship considering how isolated he ended up being at the end of Season 2 and we all know Michael needs friends, badly.

Innuendo by the Roswell anon (6000) written for @bisexualalienblast​  the roswell anon is my favorite treasure in this fandom, I could pretty much list all of their stories as examples of some very fine Michael Guerin characterization. This one was one of my favorite post-season 1 fix-it fics though, because it has some of the most real 28-30 year old guy dialogue I’ve come across- from the crude jokes, to the sharply self-deprecating observations- this is Alex and Michael stripped down, all edges but what’s left is fatigue and love. The resolution at the end, where Alex observes that yes, Michael has tried the last 10 years but this is their first chance to try together- to pull in the same direction? It just lays me flat on the ground with how true that is to canon.

Whenever You Want to Begin, Begin by @foramomentonly (3200) - this is a sequel, and the first story is dynamite- don’t get me wrong- but it moves from the hopeful side of an ending to legit Happily-Ever-After here, and I devoured every word. First of all, having Michael turn to photography as a way of self-improvement is fucking genius. Photographers are always at the center of every happy event, but never the focus, and that screams Michael to me, the way he lives on the outskirts of the 9-5 job and literal outskirts of town in his trailer. The other thing is photographers are revealed by their work, and that’s also something I head-canon with Michael just in the mundane- he’s good with his hands, he wants to leave a car better than he found. Anyway, this story is gorgeously written, moves a bit like a really good bottle of wine- heavy but soft, as you watch Michael become Alex’s friend, and even more importantly, Alex becomes Michael’s friend. Fantastic- I’ve read it about four times now since it was published.

[danceworshipper]

The Family Business AU: Part 1

Part 2

I'm finally getting around to writing something! This story is an AU where my main mcs, Gracie and Tessa Chiva, were raised in R their whole lives and are only just now, at the age of sixteen, starting to have doubts. I'm not sure how long the story will be, but I've been toying with the idea for a while now and I couldn't stop myself from writing it any longer. The basic background info is that the twins' maternal grandmother, Lorraine Black, founded R while her four children were still relatively young. In canon, her children weren't really on board, but in this AU all but one stayed with her. Clarissa, the twins' mother, never truly approved, but saw what happened to her brother and decided abandoning her family wasn't worth it. If you know my mcs, you'll know that while Gracie and Tessa are technically identical twins, Gracie has alternate coloring to her from a curse that happened in their first year (Tessa has dark brown hair and dull green eyes whilst Gracie has bright white hair and unnaturally bright green eyes, and is much paler). In this AU, that still occurred, however the curse was staged to give them a reason to go into the vaults as their brother never did, and she has no negative side effects from it. The 'Jacob' character has been renamed to Vance, just because I honestly don't like the name Jacob, Gracie and Merula are together, Tessa is single and newly the captain of the Slytherin quidditch team, Rowan is the prefect because she deserves it, and the two additional mcs in the story belong to @gcldensnitch and @weirdcursedvaultkid!

The Great Hall always felt so loud and bright on the first day of school. Even on the days the whole family was gathered together, their grandmother's dining hall was never as noisy as when the whole of Hogwarts was sitting eating dinner together. It made Gracie's head pound, and Tessa wasn't faring much better. If only their mother had listened to their pleas to drop out of school - but alas, Clarissa was firm in her belief that they needed to complete their education despite being next in line. It's what they deserved for asking the parent who had been a Ravenclaw during her own time at Hogwarts.

Of course, education aside, the twins really did need to stay in school. Them dropping out now would raise too many questions, especially with the two of them so invested in the Cursed Vaults. Besides, they would miss their friends. The friends that they'd been lying to since they met them. The friends that were now in terrible danger.

The twins had different thoughts about their lies. Tessa felt much more guilty about it, always having been the more empathetic twin. She especially felt guilty about lying to her best friend, Colette Belrose, whose older brother Jacob was someone Tessa saw rather frequently while Colette herself had no idea what he was up to. It reminded Tessa of how she had no idea where her own brother was, and if he was okay or not. He had run away from home directly after graduating and hadn't contacted his sisters at all. R had placed him high on the 'wanted' list. Seeing his name still there, not crossed out, was the only way Tessa and Gracie could have hope he was still alive.

Gracie was better able to justify her lies to herself. How could she continue to be trusted by her friends if they knew she was a member of the very group they were trying to take down? How would they react if they knew that she hadn't been cursed in her first year, but marked as the next leader? In order to protect the people Gracie cared about like Rowan and Merula, she needed them to trust her, and they never would if they found out about her lies now. It wasn't like she could tell them even if she wanted to; the secrecy oath she swore when she was eleven made that impossible. She suspected that was the only reason Vance hadn't told everyone before he ran away. You didn't break the oath by leaving. You broke the oath by dying.

This very oath, while necessary for R's security, was something that the twins were growing to despise. Lorraine, their grandmother, the founder and current leader of R, had laughed at them when they screamed and cried about Rakepick torturing Merula while the group was in the Portrait Vault the year before. Rakepick was just playing her part, Lorraine said. It didn't matter how close Gracie and Merula were, because in the end, Merula was an enemy to R and their mission, and would be treated as such. If Gracie wanted Merula safe from R's members, she'd have to convince Merula to become one.

This was the twins' goal this year. Between working on the final Cursed Vault (that the Hogwarts students knew of; the twins knew it was, in fact, the second-to-last), they were determined to convince their closest friends to join up with R for their own protection. How they would do that without being able to tell their friends about their family, they didn't know. But they had to try.

"Tessa!"

Tessa's head shot up as Colette sat down on the bench next to her and threw her arms around her. Colette had a smile on her face as she pulled back.

"Your hair is so long now!" Colette exclaimed. "I love it!"

Tessa smiled back weakly. "Thanks."

"Are you okay?"

"I'm just not used to the noise yet," Tessa responded truthfully. "It's not very loud back home."

Colette squeezed Tessa's shoulder in comfort. "You'll be used to it in no time."

Gracie watched the exchange and sighed. Rowan was a prefect, so she was off making sure the dorms were ready for the new students who would be coming in, and Merula was nowhere to be found. Merula had been off all summer. Having the Cruciatus curse cast on her had caused her to become even more determined than ever to prove herself as powerful, and it left their relationship wanting.

Gracie plugged her ears as the chatter around the hall grew even louder, feeling Tessa lean closer to her. The first years had just entered the Great Hall to be sorted. Hopefully Rowan would be here soon.

----------------

Dinner had been miserable, just as it always was during the first week or so. The twins never truly appreciated the quiet at home while they had it. Rowan had finally arrived just as the last first year was sorted, still catching her breath but beaming from a job well done.

"The Common Room is sparkling," she had told Gracie. "And I scented the candles with a faint hint of orange, just for you."

Rowan was so good. She cared about Gracie more than almost anyone else, and though she was nerdy, weird, and awkward, she was one of the most incredible people Gracie had ever met. Rowan was the one Gracie was most desperate to get on R's side. As much as she loved Merula, Rowan had been Gracie's friend from day one. Losing her would hurt the most, she was sure of it. Rowan had to be turned.

Tonight, though, Gracie had to find Merula, or else she'd likely stay out all night. Rowan said she had seen her out of the Training Grounds blasting the dummies to pieces, so that's where Gracie went after dinner was over.

The night sky was clear, and the air was nice and warm, a welcome change of scenery as Gracie let her stress wash away for just a moment. Staring at the stars always made Gracie feel less anxious. The stars didn't care what happened to her. She was nothing but a speck of dust in the universe, and nothing she ever did would matter. It was a comforting thought.

"Are you just going to stand there, Chiva?"

Merula was now standing next to her, looking at her with a cold expression.

"Hi," Gracie said softly. Every time she saw Merula she was caught off guard by how pretty she was, even when she was angry.

"What do you want?"

"You missed dinner."

"I wasn't hungry."

It was a bad lie. Gracie held out the plate of raspberry tart she had been able to sneak out, and Merula took it without a word.

"What were you doing?" Gracie asked.

"What do you think?" Merula jerked her head toward a group of dummies, two of which were still lying on the ground in pieces.

Gracie sighed and pushed her hair behind her ear. "This isn't healthy, love. I want to get back at Rakepick too, but you're running yourself ragged like this. We've barely spent time together recently."

At those words, Merula seemed to deflate just a little. She had another bite of tart before answering.

"I know."

They stood without talking while Merula finished her tart. She didn't say thank you, nor did Gracie expect her to. Merula just vanished the plate and crossed her arms.

An owl hooted in the distance. Gracie wondered if it was a school one or a wild one.

"Train with me," Merula said suddenly.

Gracie shook her head. "It's late. Come inside with me."

"Duel me once and we can go in."

"You're the Most Powerful Witch at Hogwarts," Gracie teased, enjoying the way Merula rolled her eyes even as they lit up. "You have nothing to prove to me."

"Just one?" Merula asked again.

And Gracie was never able to resist. "One."

----------------

"I've already been asked by three different people when I'm going to be holding tryouts," Tessa whined. "It's the first day back; can they not wait a single second?"

"Apparently not," Liz said, leaning back against her headrest. The two were sitting on the bed, catching up. Liz hadn't been able to visit for the second half of the summer as she had been on vacation in Canada, so they had a lot to talk about.

"I snuck out of the hall to visit everyone in the Reserve," Liz continued. "You need to come with me tomorrow so you can see how much bigger the thestrals are. Victoria says hi, I think. I still can't see her."

Tessa raised an eyebrow. "You say that like it's a bad thing."

"I want to see how beautiful she is! You keep saying she's the prettiest thestral you've ever seen but I don't have a point of reference."

"Take my word for it, Liz, she's gorgeous."

Liz frowned. "I wish seeing the death of a pet counted. It's like even magic itself thinks creatures are less than humans."

"But if seeing the death of a pet counted, Thestrals would never be able to live in peace because then nearly everyone would be able to see them," Tessa reasoned.

"I cannot believe Hogwarts uses them as carriage horses. Thestrals as carriage horses! What disrespectful prick came up with that?!"

Tessa glanced around the dorm as Liz carried on with her rant. Gracie wasn't back with Merula yet. Colette was talking with Rowan and Alex Vega, happy as could be, completely unaware that twenty feet away from her Tessa was trying to figure out how to recruit her to the very wizard cult her brother had abandoned his family to work for. And what about Alex? Would Tessa and Gracie try and get Alex too? Alex was in danger; she had gotten involved with the Vaults a few years ago and now spent a lot of time with Ben, someone who, at the end of last year, made quite an enemy of himself in the Portrait Vault. If only he had stayed a spineless coward, he might have been safe. It might be the only circumstance Tessa was displeased with someone's personal growth.

Ismelda was sitting by herself, skimming through this year's History of Magic textbook. Ismelda was probably the safest one in the room, having never really helped the Vault hunt or done anything that would anger R. She mostly just kept to herself. Ironically, Ismelda was probably the most likely person to be willing to join R.

Liz snapped her fingers in Tessa's face, making her jump.

"You look scared," Liz stated, blunt as ever. "It's okay, you know. Dumbledore knows now that Rakepick is evil. She'll have a hard time finding us to try and hurt us."

She was kind of close, Tessa thought, but that wasn't quite it. It wasn't like Liz could know Rakepick would never, under threat of death, ever hurt even a single hair on Tessa's head other than under strict orders for cover.

"Yeah, I know. But it doesn't feel right."

Liz elbowed her in a way that was probably meant to be encouraging. "We're a team. No one is going to hurt you on my watch."

That only made Tessa feel worse. Liz would never say those things if she knew who Tessa really was. Salazar, how was Tessa ever supposed to convince Liz to join R? Rakepick was in R; no one at Hogwarts would ever consider being on her side. Besides maybe Ismelda.

The door finally opened to reveal Gracie and Merula. Tessa watched her sister accept Alex's hug, looking just fine. How did Gracie do it? Did she really believe she could change her friends' minds, or was she just better at hiding her emotions than Tessa?

You're too sensitive. Leaders have to be able to step back from their emotions and look at a situation rationally. If you can't do that, Tessa, you can never be a leader.

She didn't want to be a leader; Gracie could do that. Tessa just wanted to be good enough to be worthy of being the leader. She wanted to stop being second best. She didn't want to be Tessa, Gracie's twin sister anymore. She wanted to be Tessa, her own person. It wasn't like her Quidditch skills would matter in a couple of years when she had to work for R full time. Maybe she could talk to Diego tomorrow; she needed to get back into her dueling training.

Merula stomped off to talk to Ismelda after having been convinced to hug Alex as well. Gracie spoke with Rowan for a moment before they both came to join Tessa and Liz, leaving Colette and Alex fawning over Colette's cat together.

"I beat her," Gracie told Rowan, then turned to address the whole group. "Merula made me duel her again."

"Isn't she ever going to get tired of getting her ass kicked by you?" Rowan joked.

"She won't stop bothering you until you let her win, you know," Liz told Gracie.

"She'll know I let her win and then she'll be even more mad."

Gracie looked over at Tessa, who had drawn into herself. Tessa felt the Legilimency link they shared open up.

You okay? Gracie asked.

I'm scared.

I know.

Gracie paused to laugh at something Liz said. Tessa attempted a chuckle. She didn't know what Liz had said.

We can do this, and if we can't, we can protect them. No one is going to get hurt. I promise.

You can't guarantee that.

"I'm tired," Tessa announced, closing the link and standing up.

Gracie stood and pulled Tessa into a tight hug.

"I love you," Gracie said.

"I love you too."

Tessa, having already changed into her nightgown some time ago, climbed into her bed and shut the curtains, ignoring the concerned looks from her dormmates. She'd feel better tomorrow, she told herself. She was just tired and it was making her worse. That was all. It wasn't like she had to turn everyone by the weekend; the first proper "attack" Lorraine had planned was over a month away, and it was less of an attack than a "scare the kids" bit. They'd be fine. She had plenty of time.

"Did something happen at home?" Liz asked quietly.

What hadn't? It was a better question, but no one knew that.

"Our grandfather is sick," Gracie lied, hoping she'd remember to tell Tessa before someone said something tomorrow. "He'll probably be fine, but he's old, you know? He was still in pretty bad shape when we left."

Rowan made an odd face, but it was gone before Gracie could even process that it happened.

"I'm sure he'll be okay," she said.

"Yeah, he's made it through dragon pox, he can handle this," Liz nodded, yawning. "I might go to bed too."

"Yeah, it's late," Gracie agreed. "I still have to get changed though."

Rowan perked up. "You'll like what I did in the bathroom. Pretty tough bit of magic, but I think it was worth it."

"Really now?"

"Mhm. Here," Rowan said, holding out Gracie's toiletry bag before she could even open her trunk. "I got it out for you, and your nightgown is hanging above the heating stone so it'll be warm."

Gracie felt another surge of guilt wash through her. "You're the best."

Rowan grinned. "Come on, I want to see your reaction!"

What Rowan had done in the bathroom was charm the mirrors to look like the surface of a calm lake. When Gracie put her hand out to touch it, it rippled.

"This is so cool!" Gracie exclaimed, momentarily forgetting her troubles.

"I know! And when you want it to be solid so you can see perfectly, you just tap it with your wand and say sile, like so."

Rowan tapped her wand against the mirror to demonstrate. The water-like surface stilled and became clear as a regular mirror, as if it had never moved.

"Libera."

Another tap, and the mirror once more began to flow gently.

Gracie ruffled Rowan's hair, earning a smack to her wrist. "How long did that take you?"

"The first one took a good ten minutes," Rowan admitted, smoothing her hair back down. "After I got it it was easy to do the others."

"You did this in all the rooms?"

"Of course I did!"

"You really are incredible."

Rowan beamed. "Thanks, Gracie. You want me to wait up for you?"

Gracie shook her head. "It's okay, I have to wait for Merula anyway."

"Ooooh, you're gonna cuddle?" Rowan taunted.

"Oh, shut up!" Gracie laughed.

"You never cuddle with me."

"Did you want to cuddle?"

"Not really," Rowan conceded. "But maybe if you held my hand once in a while I'd feel better."

"Get out."

"Night!"

----------------

Both twins had a nightmare that night, a dream full of blood and tears that made them wake up with a scream.

[wunderlass]

I’m feeling so deflated to be writing this post. S1 had its flaws but those could be placed at the feet of a freshman showrunner who could learn from her mistakes going into S2 and up her game. Unfortunately, that didn’t happen, and S2 was a mess.

S1 had a clear central plotline: the mystery of Rosa’s death, leading to justice in the form of Noah’s death and Rosa’s resurrection. S2’s central plotline was…um. The kidnappings? Leading into the plot to blow up Crashcon? I think? But there was so much other stuff gong on it’s hard to tell.

Carina – if you happen to come stumbling into the tags for reactions – you’ve already acknowledged that you struggle to edit your scripts down for length. And it does show in the finished product. But you also struggle to edit your ideas down to fit into the episode count you have. There were too many extraneous plot threads this season, too many guest characters, and the ideas you had were shoddily and sloppily executed.

There were shining moments scattered here and there and the occasional good episode, but for the most part this season lurched from badly paced episode to badly paced episode. Stuff was crammed into each episode and yet somehow the plot also treaded water until 2x11 when it all kicked off – and this was because so much of what happened in the earlier episodes didn’t feed into the main plot. Even Max’s death, the overarching motivation for many characters at the beginning, was shoved to the side for other ideas.

And the payoffs for each of these storylines was too often underwhelming. Max can’t come back because he’ll be full of dark energy and a destructive force! Resolved in 30 seconds by him blowing up a pile of stuff. Max can’t remember Liz! Fixed in the same episode. That pattern continued with the finale feeling like it was trying to wrap up all these storylines without really having a story of its own. The various cliffhangers from Crashcon were tied up before the title card and then let’s spend the next 40 minutes treading water again.

There were good moments in the finale. Max and Isobel’s discussion, the Maneforrest kiss, Rosa and Helena’s reunion. But as for the rest? Hear me whine:

-          Jesse’s death was anticlimactic. His line about “no more Manes men” makes no sense given as far as he knew Flint (and maybe Clay?) is still alive. His death should have been poetic because one of his son’s killed him but it didn’t hold the weight it should have, possibly because it came so early in the episode.

-          It would have been far better if Jesse had discovered that Harlan killed Tripp and buried him beneath the shed. How awful would it have been for his entire worldview to be shaken by that revelation? How perfect would it have been if he discovered that Tripp loved Nora? If he died after learning all of that, becoming desperate and sloppy in whatever scheme he was trying to pull off (self-immolation via the bomb?), it would have been a fitting ending.

-          So many characters this season were badly served. Alex, Michael, and to a lesser extent Max, had real arcs and progression. Alex especially you can see them setting up his growth for a payoff in the finale. 

-          Kyle was shafted, shoved to the side for the Steph storyline that didn’t feel like it was going anywhere, and I suspect we got a lot of that cut away to make room for other stories.

-          Rosa’s story started off strong and then mostly got tied into rehab or helping Isobel. Them having her out and about in public in Roswell is complete nonsense.

-          Max had a line for Isobel about her becoming her “entire self” this season, and that rang false to me. We’ve only seen Isobel develop her powers. Her personality has shifted each episode, fractured and inconsistent, dependant on what the writers needed her to do. She didn’t get much of a storyline of her own – the abortion was redundant, serving as a political soapbox for Carina rather than anything that served the character – and while she’s found out more about her heritage, that’s never been as important as Michael or Max finding out about theirs. She said she wanted to become more like her mother and that never went anywhere.

-          I was so hopeful that Carina had listened and understood the criticisms with Maria’s handling in S1 and worked to improve it. She certainly gave her increased screentime. Except, so much of that screentime was tied into Michael, and latterly Isobel. She lacked interactions with Liz or Rosa. She was in two whole scenes in the finale and after she broke up with Michael, she disappeared from the story, and if that doesn’t say it all…

-          And that break-up was contrived bullshit. I’m not saying this as a shipper. It felt like they’d planned to have them break-up in the finale and wrote it even though the motivations hadn’t been properly established. Seeds were sown but they were communicating well as a couple and resolving their issues as they went along. Suddenly those issues got un-resolved and were enough to break them up.

-          The most galling part is that so much of what follows comes from Tripp’s diary, and Maria is excluded. This is her story too! Louise was her great-grandmother! Rather than sitting around her in the hospital room reading this stuff, they do it in the Crashdown.

-          Which fits the pattern of what’s happened all season. Maria found out she was part alien and it was about her powers, rather than her legacy, rather than what happened to her great-grandparents.

-          And it became clear that it was done so they could do the Nora/Tripp and Malex parallel.

-          Which completely solidifies for me where Carina’s priorities lie. She’s been clear that Malex is her favourite ship on the show and Michael is her favourite character. But this season has shown that she’s incapable of ensuring her favouritism doesn’t screw over other characters.

-          The sad thing is this really does show up in marketing. Carina always pushes and praises Vlamis and barely ever mentions Jeanine on her SM. Media outlets write about Malex as the centre of the show and they aren’t supposed to be. We have a sci-fi show with a Latina leading lady and nobody cares – not the showrunner, not the media (outside of Latinx-centric publications), not the fandom. I’m not Latina and it frustrates me so I can’t imagine how actual Latinx people feel about that.

-          Maria was dragged into a love triangle that Carina never had any intention of doing justice to. Maria and Michael were always only ever meant to be a pit-stop on the way to a big Malex reunion. Sadly it’s clear the same goes for Maneforrest. Why write something if you’re only going to do it half-arsed? And it clearly was. That’s why the Maria and Michael break-up was so perfunctory and illogical.

-          While I’m on the subject of Maria – last season Mimi was clearly deteriorating and didn’t recognise adult Maria anyway. Now that seems to have shifted to Mimi’s mind moving through time. It’s still unclear if this is the alien DNA or what was done to Patricia Deluca in Caulfield. I don’t understand why they introduced both elements – apart from being able to give Maria a line about unethical science which OH BOY what a contrast with Liz.

-          Speaking of Liz.

-          Wow.

-          If the central storyline was the kidnappings and Crashcon shenanigans, she really had no involvement with that all season apart from the very end. All the investigation went to other characters. Her mother was involved, but not Liz.

-          Let me repeat that.

-          Our lead character was not involved the central storyline of the season.

-          Alternatively, if you think Max learning about his history, and all of the reveals about 1948, and Maria’s heritage etc etc were supposed to be the main storyline…

-          Doesn’t matter because Liz wasn’t involved in any of that either!

-          Liz was a subplot in her own show after they brought Max back. Hell, she was a subplot even when she was working on that.

-          The narrative focus really has centred on Michael, Alex, and later Max.

-          I wonder what they have in common with each other.

-          If you don’t believe me, check out the screentime figures for this season. Liz had the fourth largest amount of screentime in the finale, and she’s only had majority screentime in a handful of episodes all season (2x01, 2x07, 2x11).

-          And then realise that the plot kept moving after Liz left Roswell. She’s just not part of it anymore.

-          I watched the finale and kept asking myself where Liz was because she kept disappearing for whole chunks of time.

-          She was in her own subplot about science for the back half of this season, and honestly, I’m going to have to write an entirely separate post about Liz and ethics in science because NOPE.

-          Max was right. Liz deserved to follow her calling but she had options that didn’t involve risking the aliens.

-          As such the Echo break-up was stupid but whatever, based on this season I guess it needed to happen.

-          Did Max even care that Liz left? He loved her for twenty years and then when he had her, it didn’t matter anymore? What the fuck? Are we ever going to get answers as to why he fell so hard and loved her for so long, or is the “Malex is cosmic” story more important?

-          Also the whole thing about the Genericorp lady not being interested in Liz based on meeting her at the Crashdown was stupid. You hire scientists based on the previous work they’ve done and their credentials. Diego’s word should have been enough to convince her, and then maybe an actual proper job interview to make sure she was a good fit. Not “let’s sneak into her secret lab to look at what she’s working on”.

-          When Liz does leave, she only says goodbye to Rosa and Kyle. Arturo is mentioned but not seen. Which means the whole ICE sequence this season, which should have been a solid motivation for Liz to take the Genericorp job on its own, has been resolved without a proper payoff. All that stress – scenes that I know felt genuinely stressful to some viewers because of how close to home it hit – and we don’t even get to see Arturo seeing his “genius daughter” leave with his future secured.

-          It’s plausible that Liz said goodbye to other characters – Maria, Isobel, Michael – off screen BUT SHE’S YOUR LEAD CHARACTER AND HER LEAVING TOWN SHOULD CARRY SOME EMOTIONAL WEIGHT FFS

-          Compare Liz leaving and arriving at the ocean to Buffy Summers leaving Sunnydale in Becoming Part 2. There is no contest.

-          It’s clear to me that the audience Carina writes this show for is herself. And that’s fine. Plenty of writers do that. But that means she’s writing a show for the women in fandom who like epic mlm romances with lots of angst. And the problem with that is that this show has a Latina lead who is not being done justice.

-          This is not me railing against Malex. There is space in the show for both things. This is me expressing my frustration at a showrunner and creative team who are not taking care with all characters equally.

-          Carina uses her platform to throw in politics and use characters as mouthpieces without considering their impact. She thinks she’s educating the straight white people in the audience without thinking about how scenes of ICE intimidation, homophobic violence, and racism will affect the people who are impacted by those things in real life.

-          Am I done with the show? Probably not. I’ve got fics I want to write and while I’m not hubristic enough to think I can write better than a team of professional writers, I’m going to at least try and do some of these neglected elements of the show justice.

-          Hubris. Remember when I thought that was going to be a theme of this season? Apparently not. There was no theme, unless “no editing, we die like men” counts..

[echo-bleu]

Five Things You Can See

I originally wrote this for the Whumptober “Asphyxiation”, but I never posted it on here. So it’s not technically new, but it’s my entry for day 1 of the Missing Alex Manes weekend ( @alexmanesappreciation) since I didn’t have the time or energy to write new things.

[panic attack, PTSD, abuse, mentions of war]

“Hey, I'm heading out,” Kyle says, passing behind Alex's chair.

Alex checks the time on his computer to see that it's already lunch time.

“Got a date?” he asks.

“No, just a healthy work routine,” Kyle shoots back. “You should get out more.”

“I'm eating out tonight,” Alex shrugs. “So I just brought a sandwich for lunch.”

“Eating out, uh? That's what got you mooning at your screen all morning?”

Alex turns in his chair to look at Kyle, who is opening the bunker door. “I'm not mooning!” he exclaims.

“Right,” Kyle rolls his eyes. “See you later.”

Alex glares at his back and goes back to his monitor. Seeing the shimmering out of the corner of his eyes, he pulls back his sleeve to admire the handprint on his palm. The colors and shining still mesmerize him every time he sees a handprint or the console, and today it's tinted with a rush of pride−and a foreign feeling of love love love mixing perfectly with his own. Michael did that.

He's been struggling with his powers for weeks. After Isobel shared that she manage to make a picture frame explode, and that Noah said they all had more powers than they thought, Liz became convinced that the only way to bring Max back was for Isobel and Michael to figure out how to heal him. Since then, they've been working at it most days, and it's been a trying time.

Alex has tried to support Michael through his grief the best he can, ever since he came back to his trailer late the evening Max died, after Alex waited for him all day, and collapsed in Alex's arms. He told Alex everything, talking through the night, about Noah, about Max, and finally about Maria. How he'd tried to find solace in paying guitar and Maria's lips and found out that all he wanted was Alex's arms.

Alex welcomed him into his arms gladly.

Isobel is now good at tossing objects around the room, and Michael is a convincing telepath. But neither of them had made any kind of progress on healing wounds. Liz, always self-sacrificing, has given herself countless paper cuts−all in the controlled environment of her lab, of course−and even convinced Alex and Kyle to help, but nothing has seemed to work.

Until last night, when Alex cut his hand deeply while trying to cook for a date dinner. The date almost ended in the ER, which Alex should have known because he's a terrible cook, but Michael sat in front of him as Alex was trying to control the bleeding with a bunch of tissues, cursing, and grabbed Alex's hand.

It took almost half an hour before the wound was completely gone, and Michael spent another hour throwing up and chugging acetone, but it worked. And it gave Alex an interesting new perspective on Michael's feelings for him, as their emotions started to mingle.

That's why he's spent the whole morning smiling to himself like a newlywed, but he's not going to tell Kyle that.

Pulling his sandwich out of his bag, he absently presses play on the next of the Caulfield surveillance video. He and Kyle have been going through them for months, now, and by now they're mostly doing it to give themselves good conscience, because it's highly unlikely they're going to find something new. The videos Alex is currently speeding through are nearly twenty years old.

Except the image on the screen makes him stop in his tracks. It's his father. Alex has seen him pop up in the surveillance images often, but he's almost never taking part in the experiments. But this time he is.

He's towering over a woman strapped to a table, whom Alex recognizes immediately as Michael's mother. Fuck. His father and Michael's mom in the same room doesn't sound good. There's no sound, which is part of the reason why the surveillance videos have been less than useful, and the image is grainy.

Alex watches, transfixed, as Jesse Manes talks. He has the same expression on his face as the one he gets every time he tells Alex how much he's disappointed in his son. Alex can't tell what he's saying, but his features slowly turn angrier at Mara's lack of reaction. She looks strangely immobile, peaceful, like her mind is not even there. She's dissociating, Alex thinks. I recognize that look.

Alex can't take his eyes off the screen. He flinches, the first time his father slaps Mara. He can hear the sound in his mind, like a clap of thunder.

This would have been...he checks the date in the corner of the screen. A couple of months after his mother left. Alex was eight. His father was angry all the time then, and Alex bore the brunt of it.

It turns out he wasn't the only one receiving the abuse. And he wasn't the only one who was completely defenseless in front of Jesse Manes.

Alex bites on his finger as Jesse slaps Mara again. He can almost feel the slap on his own cheek, but worse than that, he remembers the marks on his mother's cheek, more and more common in the last few months before she left. Jesse Manes has always liked people he can tower over, people who will cower in front of him. His wife. His youngest son. His son's seventeen-year-old already-abused boyfriend, once.

And, apparently, tied-up alien women.

Alex doesn't even realize he's having a panic attack until the world is swimming in front of him. He gasps, desperate for air that won't fill his lungs.

Dammit. Alex tries to focus on breathing, but the video is still going, and his hands are shaking too much to stop it. Not that he can. He can't take his eyes off his father and Mara.

Breathe. It doesn't help.

Five things you can see. Alex has done this hundreds of time. He learned this particular technique in therapy, but he used some variation of it long before he even made it to basic training. The screen. The bunker around him. His father, in the goddamn video. Shit.

Wheezing, Alex lets himself slide down from his chair and to the floor. He huddled under the desk. At least from there he can't see the screen anymore.

The legs of the chair. Part of the table. His bag, on another chair beside the desk.

No movement. Jesse Manes isn't there. Alex gasps.

Four things you can touch. Er, the floor. Probably dirty, because no one has bothered to clean since Jesse Manes ended up in the hospital. Alex closes his eyes at the thought of his father. Focus. The wall behind his back. The desk, with the top of his head. His neck is going to hurt later. His leg, too. The prosthetic, he can feel it, the sock around his stump. His clothes.

Three things you can hear. There isn't much, with the bunker underground and soundproof. Ventilation. The computer's buzzing. His phone, ringing.

Wait, his phone is ringing.

Alex ignores it, still panting. The world is coming back into focus around him, slowly, but he feels exhausted.

Two things you can smell. Dust. Plastic.

One thing you can taste. Ashes.

Alex swallows.

The ashes taste is what he gets for letting his traumas mix up together, because that's one from the explosion. Oh, well. He could rinse out the taste, but his water bottle is in his bag, too far away. He lets his breathing slow down instead.

His phone is still ringing. It's on the desk, where the video is playing on the screen. He can't deal with it right now.

It stops ringing, and Alex makes no move to get up. He'll need to, before Kyle makes it back here, but he has maybe another half-hour. He rests his head on his arm instead, so tired that he would lay down on the floor if there was enough space under the desk, and traces at the shining mark on his hand, trying to find comfort in it.

Alex scrambles to stand up when he hears the door of the bunker open, almost hitting his head in the process. His neck and his leg have seized up from the awkward position he was in under the desk, as he suspected, and he lets himself drop onto his chair just before Kyle walks in.

“Alex? You're still here? Liz's been calling you,” Kyle says.

Shit. “I guess my phone's on silent,” Alex answers as casually as possible. He makes a show to check it, and the screen shows three missed calls from Liz and one from Michael.

A cursory, though apprehensive, look tells him that while the surveillance video is still playing on his computer monitor, it's now showing an empty room. He lets out a breath of relief. “What's up?” he asks.

“Apparently something weird happened to Michael during training,” Kyle says. “They called me to check him out.”

“Weird? Weird how?”

“He said it was like he was being asphyxiated for a couple of minutes, and then it was gone just as silently.”

Alex frowns. “Is he okay?”

“Yeah, he's fine, just a little shaken up. But we don't know what caused it.”

“I should go check on him,” Alex says, standing up. “I haven't eaten,” he adds, taking his sandwich. He hopes Kyle doesn't notice that there's several bites missing, or that Alex limps more than usual when he walks out of the bunker. Kyle doesn't need to know about his father and Mara.

Alex shudders just thinking about it, the images stuck in his mind. Trying to distract himself, he starts his car and puts the radio on, thinking about Michael. Is something wrong with him?

He makes it to Max's house, when Michael and Isobel have been training, before he's even finished his sandwich.

“Hey,” he knocks on the door, coming in without waiting for an answer. “Kyle told me something happened?”

“I've been calling you,” Liz says immediately, pulling him into the living room. Alex stumbles, but catches himself on a bookshelf. “Oh, sorry. You okay?”

“Fine,” Alex says through gritted teeth, riding the sudden added pain. “Michael?”

“I'm okay,” Michael walks up to him from the couch. “It was nothing. It's gone.”

“I still think you should come with me to the lab to draw some blood, see if I can figure out what caused this,” Liz says.

“Maybe you should,” Isobel adds. “It was kinda scary.”

“I don't think anything's wrong with me,” Michael says. “I feel fine. It felt more like...it came from somewhere else. Maybe the mind stuff went wrong somehow. Maybe Isobel choked me without knowing it with her telekinesis, she's still not fully in control.”

Alex looks between them, trying to follow the conversation. “You should do what Liz says,” he pipes up. “Better safe than sorry.”

“Fine,” Michael sulks. “Wait, didn't you feel anything? You're supposed to feel everything I feel,” he indicates Alex's hand.

Alex starts to shake his head, frowning, but he stops himself. What if−

Fuck. He looks at Michael, then down at the shimmering handprint. He did this. He made Michael feel−

Fuck. Fuck Fuck−

“Alex!” Michael chokes out.

“Michael!” Liz shouts.

Michael's hand goes to his throat, as Alex struggles to breathe.

“Shit, that's what it was!” Liz exclaims, catching Alex before he falls down. “What the hell?”

“He's having a panic attack,” Alex dimly hears Isobel says. “Alex, breathe with me.”

Alex tries, but he can barely see Michael in front of him, struggling to breathe. “Alex, focus on me!” Isobel tries, forcing herself into his field of vision. “Count down from twenty, okay? With me. Twenty−”

Alex shakes his head, looking wildly around him. He has to get this under control. Right now, before it affects Michael even more. Only the thought that he's doing that to Michael is making it worse.

Arms engulfs him, squeezing him tightly, and−it's Michael. Alex can hear his wheezing, irregular breathing in his ear. The hug grounds him, almost immediately.

Count down. Twenty. Nineteen.

Michael is like a warm cocoon around Alex's trembling form.

Eighteen. Seventeen.

Alex forces his breaths to lengthen, ignoring the burning feeling in his chest. He has to do it, for Michael.

Fourteen. Thirteen.

“You're doing good,” Michael murmurs haltingly.

Ten. Nine.

They're on their knees, and Alex knows he's not going to be able to walk after that, but it's okay. Michael's there.

Not his father.

Five. Four.

“Almost there,” Michael says.

Two. One. Alex lets himself falls fully to the floor, unable to hold himself up. Michael gently accompanies him until they're both lying down. Their hearts are beating in unison, too fast and too strong.

“There.”

The girls have retreated somewhere else. Alex will care, later, that they saw all this, but right now he doesn't. “You okay?” he asks Michael in a whisper.

“Yeah,” Michael says, pulling himself up to look at him. “Looks like I feel what you feel, too.”

“I'm sorry.”

“Don't be. I'd like to know what brought it on the first time, but we'll talk about it later. Right now, just let me get you to the couch and you can rest.”

“I don't need−” Alex starts.

“Alex, if the next words to come out of your mouth are that you don't need to rest, I'm going to choke you myself.”

Alex laughs weakly, surrendering. “Fine.”

He lets Michael pull him up and help him to the couch, using both his body and his telekinesis to keep Alex upright. Once Alex is lying on the couch, he sits down on the edge, running his hand down Alex's back.

“You don't have to stay,” Alex murmurs. Two panic attacks in a row are a bit too much for his body to handle. He feels his eyes closing on their own.

“I'm not leaving. I'd rather not end up randomly choking again without knowing why. So I'm stuck with you for the next few days.”

“Won't happen again,” Alex mutters.

“Yeah, well let's make sure of that together, alright? You can sleep. I'm just staying here.”

Alex nods, too tired to fight it. The hand on his back is still grounding, and he never wants it to go.

[facelessfrey]

Roswell New Mexico Season 2, Episode 13

- I’m sure that wasn’t supposed to be comedy but I literally laughed through most of that and I’m still laughing at the last scene. I can’t. I just...I can’t. I mean what the fuck even was half of that?!?!?

- I mean that episode was WILD. I don’t even know where to begin. This is going to get long...you are forewarned. 

- Let’s start with the EXTREMELY RAPID conclusion of last week’s mortal peril. Yep....let’s just do some CPR...not even have to break out the alien defibrillator powers and oh look Max is just fine. I mean...thank god cause I could not go through a repeat of last season although...considering the last scene...that might be preferable. (I’m still laughing...like full on cracking up and my roommates probably think I’m nuts). Then we’ve got Liz dumping the contents of some top secret recipe giant ketchup bottles on the alien console and oh...yep....melted. Glad that crisis was averted. Then we have some random shots of people going to the hospital and oh look...everyone’s alive and fine except...Jesse Manes. I mean...don’t get me wrong...he’s a monster and I’m not sorry he’s dead by my god what a pitiful end to a character that should have been a really good villain but instead was a guy who limped around in the background most of the season until suddenly in one episode it turns out he had been putting together a dastardly plan to show the aliens as the monsters they are and then murder them....sure. Why not?!?! Well...I guess it’s nice that that barely three episode arc of Gregory Manes wanting to stand up for Alex got some closure. I just...it’s so dumb!!!!

- Oh wait...I forgot...not shocking cause it was literally two seconds, but hey...Helena randomly went back and saved Charlie and proceeded to yell at her for getting chained up and not leaving while she freed her. Cool. 

- Right...so that’s all wrapped up in the opening five minutes...let’s just move on...we’ve got a lot of other insane junk we have to throw into the next 35 minutes. Yep...still laughing. 

- Let’s just kick things off with Michael and Maria...and now I’m laughing again. I did ask the show to prove me wrong earlier today and well...I mean....they half did?!?!?!! Except it was literally insane so I don’t even know what to say. So...Maria’s just fine cause you know she was only half alien so that’s cool and great and then oh wait...she just happens to have a magic plot box dropped off by Mimi. Thanks Mimi...you still have no real purpose in this story except to occasionally move the plot forward but thanks for the box. But Michael doesn’t trust Mimi’s plot hints so he doesn’t want to open the box. Instead....he goes to hang with Alex and they destroy the shed together, which admittedly was a very nice scene and totally gave me Stendan in Dublin vibes and I quite liked it. 

- But it was also all so they could find a literal skeleton under the floorboards. Gotta get those callbacks in eh? Hahaha. And of course it’s Tripp! Who else would it be? And of course...he’s got the magical key so it turns out Mimi really is tuned into the plot and read ahead in the script and knew that box would be important! So back to Maria he goes after having this super cathartic scene with Alex that tied into their emotional past together. I mean...par for the course...and I was fully ready for the whiplash that was going to make me crazy and you know...I was not disappointed because they started out being all “hey I love you” and I was like “eye roll knew that was coming” but then! She just up and breaks up with him because that’s what you do after a mutual I love you that’s based on zero relationship development over the past twelve and a half episodes. And once again...I am laughing. 

- I mean...I’ll say this...I’m glad it was her that broke up with him and in part because she totally knows he’s in love with Alex and we have been saying that literally all season so like I’m glad she noticed. But I literally died when she was all “I’ve learned so much from this relationship”. What?! What did you learn? Did you get motivation in your script direction that we weren’t privy to because I still have literally no idea what either of you were supposed to be getting out of that relationship but hey...who cares cause it’s over now and Maria just decided that so it’s all fine. No heartbreak there. And you know...Michael seems totally cool with it. Barely even put up a fight. Hahahahaha. Again...I can’t. 

- So then we go back to Alex and Michael and Isobel who is all of a sudden team Malex this episode when previously she was inventing emojis for Michael’s Maria hearteyes so yeah...all of this is just really confusing. But hey! The box has Tripp’s journal in it and descriptions that make Michael squirm but also....Tripp and Nora’s love was...wait for....COSMIC! Hahaha. Oh this show. It’s drunk on it’s own absurdity. So anyway...we’re filled in on the rest of Tripp and Nora’s story...well...sort of. We know she tried ice cream and liked it and there was talk of the mystery bad man that wasn’t Noah but uh...more on that later. Haha. Well...I guess we know Harlan killed Tripp and we unfortunately saw Nora die so that’s a wrap on the 1947 flashbacks I guess?!?! Sure. 

- Oh god and the song...since we’re on Malex anyway. I mean...I liked the song and yeah....he got all the references in there. I never look away...cosmic...sure. And I knew once Forrest was there that kiss was going to happen but my god...are we really setting up season three where now Alex is the one in a random relationship and Michael is trying to be happy for him and we repeat season two’s nonsense?! Are we going to have another threesome just for funzies because you know...that was still LITERALLY the dumbest and most pointless plot point of the season. But anyway, I’m happy Alex felt comfortable enough to sing a song about a guy and kiss a guy in front of a crowded bar but there was literally NO REASON it could not have been Michael. He and Forrest literally had like four scenes together this season compared to Malex who had this whole emotional arc but no...gotta make it complicated. 

- Props to them for managing to have one last break up without actually even having a conversation this time. TALENT. LEGENDS ONLY. 

- I guess at least now that there’s just a minor character in the way and they probably can’t actually kiss again due to coronavirus restrictions, there’s probably some hope for Malex next season?!?! Maybe they’ll find a vaccine by the time there’s a Malex reunion. Maybe good things come to those who suffer. Hahaha.

- Right...let’s move on to Max and Liz. So uhh...Max spends the whole episode seeming like he was hopped up on drugs again or desperate for a fix. What is in that antidote?! Once again we gloss over the “darkness” in Max because like who needs real follow up to the first five episodes of the season. Not this show!

- The whole “Max destroys Liz’s lab” plot was nuts. Just the sheer speed of it from Diego magically appearing at the diner with the Generyx woman to Jenna’s super spy disguise to Max just blowing up the lab as Diego and co drive up and then they just exit stage left super fast except for the fact that Liz is still seemingly going to California but like...why? Did Generyx woman still agree to give her a grant based on her exploding lab?! Did she just feel bad that she didn’t have a lab anymore?! 

- Sidebar to Steph...fucking Steph...whose apparent entire purpose this season was to be sick enough to inspire Liz to do science and break up her and Max over it and then survive after Liz randomly finds time to give her some kind of half baked medicine from her lab BEFORE it exploded??!?! Or does she just carry that shit around with her? And for the love of god SOMEBODY SAVE KYLE from this EXCRUCIATINGLY BORING story!!!!!! Please don’t subject him to more of this next season. Let them break up during the pandemic and give Kyle a clean slate and allow him to reenter the narrative in a way that allows him actual screen time and scenes with the group. Sigh...at least he got to hug Liz and have a brief scene with Alex where Alex told him he was proof of redemption. Look at that character arc that was literally told in two scenes this season! Yeah...see they can be concise when they want to!

- Anyway...back to Max. OH MY GOD WHAT WAS THAT FINAL SCENE?!?!?!??! HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA?!!? I don’t even know what I was expecting but it WAS NOT THAT! What even?!?! WHY AM I BEING SUBJECTED TO TWO MAXES?!?! ONE WAS ENOUGH...sometimes MORE THAN ENOUGH. This is just really mean and so was forcing me to look at that HIDEOUS beard! I just....I really can’t handle it. HAHAHA! What drugs were they on when they wrote this?! Also...NONE OF THIS ANSWERS ANY QUESTION AT ALL!!!!!!!!!

- Let’s see...what else...

- I’m glad Jenna and Charlie FINALLY had a scene together because when Jenna first said that Charlie had disappeared again, I got so mad because it was just inexplicably dumb. So I’m glad they got to see each other. 

- I’m glad Rosa is going back to rehab and that she both got to tell her mother that she loved her and tell her to stay the fuck away. 

- I’m just laughing at the fact that for like one episode Helena was suddenly the big bad or at least a main antagonist or at least some kind of main player for the season and then just as quickly was COMPLETELY IRRELEVANT and is probably just going to leave now?!??! WHY?!?!?!? 

- Can Isobel please get something legit to do next season that doesn’t just involve her going into people’s heads without asking and maybe involves her getting a love interest of her own? Please?! I mean...I’m glad she got learn about her mother this season but also I feel like she didn’t do much and I think she deserves more than that. 

- I guess I’m glad Maria is embracing her alien side and trying to be true to herself or whatever but also....she was literally just in this episode to “not be dead”, to give Michael a plot box and to break up with him so she’s no longer a shipping obstacle. And then we never saw her again the rest of the episode. I really sincerely hope they do more with her next season in a way that actually serves her as a character because this season did not do her many favors. I’m glad she finally knows about the aliens and they delved into her own alien identity but I hope she really gets to do something with that next season and not just exist to save everyone else at the end with no thanks for it. I mean literally no one was on screen visiting her except Michael just so she could give him a box and break up with him. Liz and Max were literally at the hospital. But no...Liz had to see irrelevant Steph so she could save her for some unknown reason. Sigh....Not even her cool aunt Isobel came to see her. 

- I don’t even know what else to say. I’m still laughing. I still feel like I know LITERALLY NOTHING about what was going on this season. I had hopes for this season at the end of season one but honestly I have zero hopes for season three because I’m sure it will be a clusterfuck but an even weirder clusterfuck than normal cause everyone will be standing eight feet apart. Maybe that will make them tell a tighter story and not try and shove 75 different plots into 13 episodes??? Probably not. I’m sure it’ll still be batshit crazy and make no sense at all. I’m gonna treat the show as a comedy from now on. 

- Well...it’s been fun all. Thanks to anyone who made it through this whole nonsense post. You deserve a prize. Maybe a plot box or a skeleton under a floorboard or a journal telling you your relatives’ love was cosmic too. 

[manesalex]

make-believe we never needed any more than this

For @bellakitse, who gave me this prompt:

Alex wrote letters to Michael the whole time he was in the military, all 10 years. He never sent them, but he wrote them to feel closer to Michael and then would put them in a box. When he comes home he puts the box away. Someone finds the box.

I love you, Stef, and I hope you enjoy this!

Warnings for a hint of internalized ableism and the love triangle.

*** “Which one first?” Maria asks as she plops down on the couch, tossing her DVD collection onto the coffee table.

Alex is already seated in the armchair, prosthetic off for the night. He shrugs, so she goes through her collection, looking for something that won’t touch on any of the issues between them she’s trying her hardest to avoid, in the interest of maintaining one of the most supportive friendships she has.

Maria had finally cornered Alex last week when he was visiting her mom and, well, with both her and her mother’s encouragement, she had talked him into tonight. Hanging out at his cabin with booze, shitty romcoms, and lots of pizza. She had even supplied the alcohol: a bottle of tequila for her and a bottle of Alex’s favorite whiskey for him.

Of course, they can’t talk about a lot of things because, well, she’s not going to complain about Michael with him. Not right now. She can’t vent to him about how, last night, Michael was blatantly flirting with Tess Harding at her bar while he drank free because he’s dating the owner.

So, instead, she talks about work and her mom. Alex won’t talk about work. Or his family. So it’s mostly just him telling her about random guys. And there aren’t many out guys in Roswell, so Maria is responsible for the bulk of the conversation.

Maria has just finished telling Alex about the latest Rancheros Night when he says, “I’ve got a box of clothes for donations… I was going to drop them off with you, but then…” he trails off. They both know why he never stopped by.

“That’s amazing!” She may oversell the enthusiasm a bit to try to get them both off the other topic. “We can always use more clothing donations. Do you want me to grab the box now?”

“Thanks. It’s just in the closet in my bedroom. Labeled and everything. I can help you with it if you-” he’s already reaching for his crutches.

“Nope! I’ve got it,” she says, scurrying to her feet and up toward his bedroom. Like Liz, she doesn’t know how to deal with that.

She opens his closet to find a few boxes on the floor. One labeled Rancheros in Alex’s neat handwriting. She reaches down to pick it up when she sees something else out of the corner of her eye. A letter. With Michael written on it.

Later, Maria will probably blame her overwhelming need to know all the town gossip. Not to use it or anything. She just wants to know. That was a significant part of why the mystery of Museum Guy had bugged her so much.

But, if she’s being truthful, it’s not just that.

Michael isn’t easy to date. In fact, he’s kind of a mess. Drinking, fighting, flirting with other women right in front of her. But she’s trying so desperately to make it work. Because she risked her friendship with one of her best friends for him. She needs this to be worth what she might have lost.

And then there’s the other thing. She’s seen the way Michael looks at Alex when he doesn’t know she’s looking.

She keeps reminding herself he’s chosen her. Michael chose her. But some days, that's not enough.

So she’s desperate for answers that she suspects Alex may have. Answers that may make it easier to hold onto this fragile thing she’s trying to nurture. She doesn’t really consider the fact that, if Michael won’t give them to her, maybe she’s not supposed to have them.

No, she needs this thing to last. She needs the Michael she has seen little hints of, the one who held her when she cried, to be hers.

So, when she sees that letter, she grabs it. Only to find that it’s sticking out of a box full of letters. Filled to the brim with letters Alex has written to Michael, a date hiding in the upper right corner of each envelope where the stamp ought to be.

“Do you need help in there?” she can hear Alex call from the living room.

And so Maria doesn’t think any further. “No! I’ve got it!” she shouts as she shoves the box of letters into the box of donated clothes and closes it, lifting it up and heading out past Alex to drop it in the passenger seat of the truck.

She walks back inside, straight over to her bottle of tequila and takes several large sips. “What did I miss?” she asks, gesturing at the screen, as if either one of them had been paying close attention to the movie beforehand.

***

M,

I’m sorry I left you without saying goodbye. I knew that, if you asked me to stay, I wouldn’t have been able to leave. And my dad, well, you may have seen him that day in the toolshed, but you don’t know what he’s truly capable of. What he’d do to you if I stayed.

Basic is going to be hell, but I’ll make it through. All I have to do is think about you, happy and free at UNM. You’re going to change the world. You’re gonna be so much better off without me. You’ll see.

Love,

Alex

***

The box is full of letters to Michael. Most don’t have his name on the envelope. Most just say M instead, like Alex was trying to hide who he was writing to.

There are thousands of letters. Some are short, a paragraph or two. Some are pages of words.

Maria took the time to organize them by date, telling herself she’ll sneak them back into Alex’s closet when she’s done. She just wants answers.

She's read about half of them and she can't help that sinking feeling of dread. The worry that she's made a huge mistake.

The answers she's finding aren't about how to hold on to Michael.

***

M,

Today was a bad day. One of the members of my squad was shot. And she died. We were pinned down and, when it was happening, I kept myself calm by remembering that day in Flagstaff.

Do you remember that? You came to meet me there and I don’t remember anything about the place itself. But I remember you. I remember the way your kisses taste and the way you curse when you’re getting close. I remember the way you held me after and asked me to stay. I wish I could have, love. I always wish I could stay.

But I have obligations. And, once they’re over, once I’ve finished my tour, if you still want me, I want to try. I want to see if we work, outside of quick trysts in motel rooms and towns where no one knows either one of us.

Love always,

Alex

***

Maria doesn’t know if she’s angrier at Michael or herself. All she can think of is how willfully stupid she was. Because she wanted someone like Michael. Someone who was there. Someone who didn’t leave. She wanted him so she let herself believe him when he said it was over. That it had been over. Let herself fall into the convenient explanation, that he and Alex had a brief thing in high school. That they kissed at the UFO Emporium and that Alex, her best friend, had built it up into something far more in his mind. That he was in love with the idea of a boy who was kind to him.

So she doesn’t know if she’s angrier with herself for believing it or with Michael for letting her hope.

She doesn’t bother to ease into things when she reaches the Airstream.

Michael is shirtless and gorgeous and working on a truck and she wants, but she’s angrier than she has been in a long time.

“How long were you and Alex together? How long have you been over?” she asks him, certain she already knows the answers.

He looks confused. Hurt. And she has to fight to steel herself against his wounded puppy dog look. She hurt one of her best friends over him. The one person who had consistently been there for her with her mom. Even when he was on another fucking continent, he had been there for her as much as he could. She could have lost that friendship. Over a boy who was kind to her a few times.

“We were never really-”

It’s only at that moment that she realizes the question she really needs to ask. The only one that matters, “Are you in love with him?”

He swallows, looks at the dirt. And she knows. No answer needed.

She fights back the part of her that wants to say something casually hurtful, to hurt him the way he’s hurt her. But she doesn’t. Instead, she makes her way over to him and waits for an answer. For something to tell her what to do about what she knows.

“It doesn’t matter,” he swallows again. She can see the tears forming.

“Why not?”

“All we know is how to hurt each other.”

She wants to ask how pursuing one of Alex’s best friends changes that. How she’s not just another part of this pattern they’re stuck in. She wants to point out how she deserves better. Instead, she shoves the letter she’s been holding into his hand and turns on her heel to walk away.

She’s proud of herself for making it to her car and managing to drive home before the tears start.

***

M,

I wish you were here. I know that, after everything, that's selfish of me. I'm the one who left.

I woke up here and, I guess, with all the drugs… They said my family was here. I thought that meant you. But my dad is here, probably thinking I couldn't even get blown up right.

When it happened, I thought of you. You remember that week in San Antonio? You took me dancing and I've never felt so free, in your arms, surrounded by people like us. I thought I was dying and that memory made me feel safe. Like I was home again.

There'll be no more dancing for me, cowboy. Not that you'd want me like this anyway. No, you could have anyone. You'll find someone who'll love you like I was too scared to. Someone who'll love you out in the open. Like you deserve.

I hope you have that someday. Someone who'll love you like I should have. Someone who'll give you the home you always were for me.

I'm sorry I couldn't be that person for you.

Love always,

Alex

***

“Would you mind coming with me to see my mom next time?” Maria asks. She’s trying something new. Asking for the support she needs from her friends and loved ones. Seeing her mom always exhausts her. It’s easier with someone else there. And Alex is especially good with her mom.

“Anytime,” Alex smiles at her, “Just let me know when you were thinking and I’ll find a way to fit it into my schedule.”

She knows she got lucky here. That things are easy between them again. She’s ended things with Michael and he’s aware of that. She’s tried to apologize, but Alex has just brushed it off. So, instead, she’ll just keep on insisting on giving him free whiskey until she feels less guilty. And he’ll keep on dropping cash on the bar before he leaves.

She’s serving another customer when Michael walks in, cowboy hat covering his curls. She glances between him and Alex warily, waiting to see if her friend needs her to step in. She scoots closer, within hearing range, pretending to focus on her work.

Michael strides over to Alex, drops his hat on the bar next to him and pulls out the letter she had handed him the day before. “Did you mean what you wrote in this?”

Alex’s eyes widen with panic and then he glares at her, thankfully, not too seriously, before returning his attention to Michael. “Yes.”

Maria watches from a distance as a smile spreads across Michael’s face. One she hasn’t seen before. One she'll later learn is only ever for Alex.

“Dance with me?” Michael asks, holding out a hand.

Maria can spot the blush rising in his cheeks as Alex gestures at his leg.

“I’ve got you, darlin’,” Michael replies, tone softer than Maria thought he was capable of.

She watches as Alex stands and moves into Michael’s arms. And, as soon as they’re distracted, she dashes over to the jukebox to get a slower song to start.

Michael is holding Alex close, his lips moving, but whatever he’s saying, his words are only for Alex.

Alex looks happier than she’s ever seen him, a smile on his face and his eyes filled with tears.

A few days from now, Alex will tell her that they’re trying to work things out. He’ll be careful about sharing more until Maria pushes for details.

He’ll say that they’ve both done a lot of talking, that they’re working through their problems as best as they can. That they both want to get it right this time.

He’ll tell her about how Michael told him that he’s the only home Michael has ever known. And how he’s struggling to accept that he can have this, that no one is going to take it away from him. But how he wants to.

But for now, Maria is just pretending she’s not watching them and hoping that, someday, she’ll find someone who loves her like that.

[misssophiachase]

Blame Taylor Swift for distracting me from my other stories (which are still being updated I promise). Eleven parts - eleven songs. Hope you like it. 

Invisible String

Famous singer Caroline Forbes returns to her hometown for a funeral and to face demons from her past, not expecting someone familiar to return and throw the confected world she's created upside down. Based off songs and lyrics from Taylor Swift's Folklore. On FF and AO3

Chapter one: the 1

Mystic Falls, VA

The large, antique mirror was always one of her favourite pieces of furniture in the house. Her mother had been an avid collector of rare, antique pieces and this was one of her most treasured finds.

Liz told her as a child that mirrors possess magical powers.

They don't lie.

Looking at herself today, Caroline knew that much was true. She barely recognised the woman staring back at her.

Her knee length, black, Chanel dress was modest but stylish and her blonde tresses were pulled back into a low chignon at the nape of her neck with a pair of simple, pearl earrings her only accessories. 

She looked every bit the grieving ex-girlfriend, her publicist had made sure of it. The problem was, only half of that statement was true. Ex-girlfriend, yes, but grieving she wasn't quite sure.

Caroline walked to the nearby bay window, looking down at the beach below.

Her large mansion sitting atop the cliffs overlooking the sea had been an impulse purchase five years earlier. She'd bought it for her mother initially. But Liz always maintained that she preferred the small house on Mulberry Drive where she'd raised Caroline and it had remained vacant ever since.

She couldn't bring herself to sell it, if anything it was a veiled reminder to the residents of Mystic Falls who she'd become and just how much some had underestimated her worth. Petty, yes, but Caroline felt it was justified all the same.

She faltered, seeing the long stretch of sand below. It always reminded her of him. The lazy summer days that passed while they played in the surf and built a myriad of sandcastles, some even taller than Caroline. He was like that, always had to be the most competitive. The best.

But also so loving and kind, his unconditional support like a warm hug that she'd craved for too long before he arrived in town. He was everything she needed and that feeling had never abated, even after all this time.

She looked away and shook her head, determined to push those particular memories deeper inside. This trip was about her ex-boyfriend, not the boy with the dimples who rescued her and what they could have had, what they could have been. Caroline repeatedly told herself that their story was destined to be captured like a snapshot in time, nothing more.

After all, some of the greatest movies of all time were never made.

He'd gone on to become one of the hottest and most sought after actors in Hollywood, his recent nomination for an Academy Award his latest accomplishment. 

Sure, she liked to pretend she didn't keep tabs on his life but that would be lying. Every time she saw him photographed in magazines and at movie premieres, his arm around the latest girlfriend, Caroline couldn't help but wish it was her.

But they'd had their chance and there was too much history between them to ever salvage what could have been.

"Caroline, you ready?" she turned to face her publicist and best friend from the doorway. "Are you sure you're going to be okay?" She nodded, her invisible mask now firmly in place, determined to hopefully get through this day unscathed and as quickly as possible.

Then she could get the hell out of Mystic Falls and never come back again.

1 week earlier...Empire Field Mile High, Denver CO

"Thanks everyone, you've been amazing, good night!" Caroline yelled into the microphone, waving at the heaving crowd for the last time.

Whether it was a small dive bar at the beginning of her career or the giant stadiums she'd graduated to, Caroline didn't think she'd ever tire of the feelings it evoked. Caroline didn't think she'd be here, let alone doing something that she loved. She'd been singing since she was a little girl sitting on her mother's lap but never thought she'd be singing her own songs for the masses.

She was discovered in one of those very dive bars at the age of nineteen. It was her first regular gig and although the clientele were either non-existent or questionable, Caroline was just grateful to have a steady job for three months.

When the handsome and immaculately dressed brunette (although she wouldn't admit that to him now) had entered the bar, looking completely out of place, she was mid-song. She could remember the cover song like it was yesterday, Breathe by Sia.

Just after her set, he'd produced one of those impressive-looking business cards before approaching her on stage. Enzo St John was his name. His demeanour was poised, his manner and unexpected British accent extremely polished.

"I'm going to make you a star."

If she wasn't so starving, desperate and facing eviction from her Santa Monica studio, Caroline probably would have scoffed at his cliched terminology. But she wasn't that much of an idiot.

And he did make her a star. As evidenced by her steady climb up the music charts, sold out concerts and complete make-over from small town girl to multiple grammy award winner and current 'it' girl if nights like this playing in Denver were anything to go by.

"You knocked it out of the park!" Enzo yelled, trying to be heard over the loud cheers from the manic crowd in Denver as she walked off stage.

"You do realise this is a football stadium, right?" She asked, taking the towel one of the stage hands had kindly provided.

"I don't understand." The way his forehead creased in utter confusion was enough to prove that very point.

"Of course he doesn't," her agent interrupted their conversation. "Enzo doesn't realise he's used a baseball metaphor because all he cares about is his beloved soccer."

"I'll pretend you didn't just commit blasphemy by calling football that dreaded word, Bennett," he huffed. "Bloody Americans."

"We love you too, Lorenzo," Caroline teased, throwing the towel she'd just used at him teasingly. "Now, what's next?"

Bonnie and Enzo looked at her mouths agape. Only Caroline Forbes, America's sweetheart, would be this hardworking. Her schedule was hectic enough but Caroline always took it in her stride and strived to do more and be better. Her mother had taught her that from a young age and she hadn't forgotten since.

"Ah, I don't know, maybe go back to the hotel and sleep, darling," Enzo responded, finally finding his voice. "This tour is only going to get crazier and you need to rest."

"Even Kat would recommend that and we all know how much she loves a good after party," Bonnie joked.

She was an agent at premiere talent company CAA and had recently come on the road for a few weeks. Caroline had met her and publicist Katherine Pierce not long after Enzo. The three were a packaged deal even if they did fight like siblings. Being an only child, Caroline actually relished in their incessant bickering.

Caroline weaved her way backstage and into her makeshift dressing room. Her finale outfit was meant to not only sparkle but also to stand out. Which was great but comfort definitely wasn't an overall factor in its design.

After an obligatory swig of Evian, she began to change. A knock at the door wasn't wholly unexpected, hence the screen she was standing behind. Usually, it was one of her personal staff needing to discuss various matters. Caroline was someone who didn't like to be alone, especially with her thoughts, so would never discourage company.

"Care," she heard her publicist call out. "You decent?"

"Come in, Kat," she said, albeit muffled by the top she was removing.

"Amazing show, as usual," she smiled, closing the door behind her. "How are you feeling?"

"Invigorated," she grinned. "Performing live is the best high anyone could ask for."

"Well, I'm glad," she began slowly,"because I have some news that I thought you should know." Caroline didn't like the sound of that, it was just like when she'd been informed her mother had passed away in the line of duty three years ago. She suddenly felt sick, holding onto the screen for some much- needed balance.

"News?"

"From your hometown," she added. "I wasn't sure if you already know but given your response I assume not."

"Just tell me," she snapped. Caroline knew it was uncalled for given she was just the messenger but there was something about the mention of Mystic Falls that had the tendency to throw her into a spin.

"I'm sorry," Kat soothed. "Your, uh, I mean, uh, Damon Salvatore has passed away."

Caroline felt the precarious sense of balance she had slowly slipping away, all the way onto the floor. It was only when Kat scooped her up and led her towards the couch that she finally processed her words.

Damon.

Dead.

"How?" She managed to bite out as Katherine force fed her some water.

"Motorcycle accident," she offered, brushing the hair from her forehead. "He collided with a vehicle on the interstate. It was instant."

Caroline closed her eyes. She'd always wondered what it would feel like to hear those words but it didn't register like she'd imagined. She'd wished so many bad things on him too many times. She thought there'd be a sense of relief or freedom.

But all she felt was nothing. Not sad, not angry, not shock or disbelief. Just nothing.

Besides Kat telling her she was "so sorry" and continuing to rub her back, the silence in the room was deafening.

"How do you, of all people, know that?" She croaked, sitting up and looking at her friend imploringly. They'd never met. Damon was nothing but a revised memory she'd concocted for her public image.

The typical small town girl with the high school sweetheart angle and her management team had eaten it up. If only it was true.

"Those rabid vultures at TMZ somehow got a hold of it, want to know if Caroline Forbes is attending his funeral in Mystic Falls."

"Well, given you just told me…"

"I know, like I said vultures," she hissed. "I'm not even going to justify their heartless request with a response. Can I get you anything, sweetie? Tissues, water, a really big bowl of chilli fries with extra ketchup?"

Caroline snuggled back into Katherine's embrace knowing exactly what she wanted. She wanted to forget, even if it was just for one night. "I need a really big bottle of tequila."

Caroline winced from the memory, thinking that tequila truly was evil and that she wouldn't be touching it again anytime soon.

Fast forward a couple of days and Caroline was here preparing for Damon's funeral. They'd only arrived late the night before so as to avoid the welcome circus. Her team had accompanied her to Mystic Falls in a show of support and she appreciated it, even if they didn't know the full story.

Given every media outlet knew about his death via TMZ, Caroline figured if she didn't go along with it then they'd know her backstory wasn't exactly what she'd sold them and that couldn't happen.

She'd worked too hard to get where she was and her past wasn't going to return and ruin that.