#ruling new orleans for ages and not letting anyone bother him AND THEN MEETING THE DUDE WHO INTERVIEWED REMUS AND FALLING IN LOVE

[enbysiriusblack]

had loustat!wolfstar and danmand!jegulus thoughts.

[whatcouldgowrong-ohthat]

We Do This to Live Ch. 2

Chapter Two

Summary: On Earth-198742, there are no heroes. There’s humans. There’s mutants. There are even some that fall somewhere between. But when Boliver Trask manages to get the Sentinel program signed, it’s up to a thief and her brilliant sister to find those that still believe in something more - something good. And maybe, along the way, they’ll get the chance to save mutant kind.

Pairings: Rogue x Remy, Marie x Shuri (eventually), Geneva x Bucky (eventually)

Word Count: 2344 words

Warnings: Cussing

Masterlist to OCs - Masterlist to Other Works

Previous Chapter

--

March 12th, 2000

Rain had a way of falling hard and heavy on days the world could really do without. Today was not an exception. The family, both blood and Guild, listened to the priest’s kind words about Henri Lebeau. It was all appreciated.

And yet…

Geneva looked to her parents. Her mother held Marie in her arm, her other hand carefully wrapped around her father’s bicep. She watched the subtle circles Rogue traced against Remy’s coat. It was her way of letting him know he was there. But her father’s eyes never looked away from the closed casket.

Closed only because there was no body to return home.

Tucking loose strands behind her ear, Geneva shivered as icy raindrops hit her skin. As much as she loved the rain, now didn’t seem to be a good time for it. A small sniffle caught her attention. She looked to the small child in Rogue’s arms. Only three and Marie had lost both of her parents.

She watched as Marie’s smaller hand reached for her. Her eyes were puffy, nose red, and lips quivering. Geneva couldn’t imagine how much of this her cousin actually understood. Letting Marie take one of her fingers, she watched her fat little digits curl around it and squeeze.

Things were going to be different now. They had to be. She offered a weak smile as Marie’s chubby cheek pressed into Rogue’s shoulder. Neither of them was paying attention to the speaker’s words. Nor did they notice the way Rogue had started watching them.

Instead, Geneva raised the finger Marie held and nudged her nose. “I got ya, Marie. Promise.”

--

Children always try their hardest. Whether it’s fulfilling promises or performing their best, they try. And Geneva, with the stubbornness of both her parents, was consistent. For a year, she helped care for Marie as much as her parents would allow. She stopped hanging out with friends, only wanting to make her little cousin smile as much as possible. Her parents noticed the difference in the way she treated the baby she once called a “punk” and “brat” had become more of a sister to her than they could have ever anticipated.

But the world has a funny way of reminding a child that they are only mortal. They always have strength, but with it comes weakness.

For them, it came as a reminder that she was young. Fragile. Geneva’s fevers came back inconsistently. Sometimes it would last a couple hours but vanish as quickly as it appeared. Other times, she would be bedridden for days at a time.

And neither Rogue nor Remy knew what to do.

Remy nursed a glass filled with bourbon. He sat on their apartment balcony, silently wondering what he could do. Was there anything he could do?

Four days had passed with Geneva’s temperature lingering at 104. Tante Mattie spent most days here, conjuring up whatever old medicine she could in what felt like a poor attempt to bring it down. Still, it wasn’t enough and now…

It wasn’t that they didn’t want to go to the hospitals ��� they did. However, the Accords had made it difficult for any mutant to step foot in one. If they came up unregistered, they were arrested on sight. He had seen too many families torn apart on the news and no human cared enough to speak up for them.

So where did that leave them with their little girl?

Remy wasn’t a fool. He knew how lucky they were to have Geneva in their life. The idea of losing her… He squeezed his eyes shut, pushing the thought to the back of his mind.

The balcony door clicked; the sound so faint that anyone else would have missed it. He didn’t bother looking up, recognizing the perfume that lingered in the air. Rogue wrapped her arms around his shoulder, carefully resting her chin on his head. “Finally got Marie down,” she whispered. “Any word from Mattie?”

He lifted the phone from his lap. Nothing. She had taken Geneva to the hospital, insisting that nothing was working. This was their last option. Since she was human and Geneva showed no signs of being mutant, that meant the two could go. While Rogue and Remy silently waited here.

“Baiser les Accords,” he muttered, taking a sip of the alcohol. It did nothing to him thanks to his powers, but the bitter taste burning his throat at least helped him feel something.

“Ya know Mattie is gonna keep our girl safe, Sugah,” Rogue whispered, tucking his hair behind his ear. She was trying to stay hopeful. They both knew that. The truth that hung so plainly in the air was that, if she could, Rogue would fly there now. She’d bust down every door until she was by her daughter’s side.

They were those kinds of parents.

“Roguey,” he whispered, voice thick with more than just that Cajun tongue. “What if she can’t?”

Rogue’s heart cracked when he asked that one question. The one she couldn’t let cross her own mind. It hurt too much. Squeezing him tight, she whispered, “Then we figure it out.”

--

Taking Geneva to the hospital had been the hardest decision they had made. She stayed for three weeks, losing weight and delirious half the time. When Tante Mattie could and their baby girl felt up for it, the family facetimed. It was always careful – always making sure nurses and doctors weren’t waiting around the corner.

However, there had been more than one occasion where Remy almost broke into the hospital. He just wanted to see her in person. He wanted to make sure Geneva knew they wanted to be there. They didn’t want her to be alone.

 But Tante Mattie made it clear. This wasn’t about him or Rogue. Everything they did here needed to be the best thing for her.

When Tante Mattie finally brought her home, they celebrated. Remy cooked all her favorites and Rogue had even made a cake. Meanwhile, Marie refused to let Geneva leave her side. The four-year-old had noticed her disappearance and it became clear to everyone. She wasn’t a fan.

“I’m fine! Really,” Geneva assured them, laughing when Rogue gave her another hug. “Don’t even feel like I was sick.” Bouncing Marie on her leg and playing with the girl’s small hands, Geneva glanced at her dad. “Y��both worry too much.”

“Maybe,” Rogue agreed, interrupting Remy before he got a chance to say something different. She gave him a look as he bit his tongue, knowing that crazy Cajun wanted to argue. “Still. We’re gonna be takin’ some precautions from now on. Just to be safe, alright?” She smoothed Geneva’s hair back, taking a look at her eyes. Her heart warmed when she saw that sparkle she adored so much.

Geneva huffed, her shoulders slumping. “I guess that’s fair.”

Remy snorted as he filled a bowl up with some jambalaya. “Bon. ‘Cause y’didn’t have a say eit’er way, petite luciole.”

“I’m not a firefly!”

Laughing, he slid the bowl in front of her just as an obnoxious growl tore through her stomach. “Just eat y’food.”

--

It’s rare for anyone to like change, but for the Lebeau family, it became especially hard. Deciding it better for them to stay close to more “human” family, they left Mississippi and moved back to New Orleans.

Jean Luc, wanting to help however he could, turned one of the guest bedrooms into a hospital room. He hired a private physician to join full time and, only when the fevers lasted longer than a week, did he or Tante Mattie take her to the hospital.

Because of Jean Luc’s…connections…it wasn’t too hard for the staff to look the other way. There was simply one silent rule – Jean Luc had to accompany them.

All things considered, they appreciated it.

And Remy thought it was the least his father could do for his granddaughter.

For three years, it became such a basic part of their routine that they didn’t question it. All that mattered was that Geneva always came home.

When she turned fourteen, no one noticed the change. No one…except Marie. Even at six and seven, she noticed the differences. She had started making notes for her own sake, knowing no one would listen to her. She was still a kid – the youngest of them all.

 But there was no denying her notes were right.

Geneva’s fevers were lasting for shorter periods of time. Her skin remained hot, sure, but the thermometer didn’t register the temperatures quite the same. Another thing that was different – Geneva had more energy. If she didn’t know better, Marie would have thought Geneva was hyped on caffeine 24/7. She just had that much energy.

The one time she had even tried to say anything, Remy chocked it up to Geneva making up for time stuck in a bed.

But it was more than that. Marie knew it had to be.

“Oof!” Marie grunted as Geneva tackled her from behind. The notebook in her hand fell to the ground as her pen rolled under the couch. “Gen,” she groaned as Geneva flopped back.

She propped her back against the arm of the couch, rolling her eyes. “I swear y’not a kid. Y’sound as old as Pépé half the time.”

Marie didn’t say anything, shutting her notebook and tucking it against her chest. On her knees, she shoved her arm under the couch and tried to find that blasted pen. “That was my favorite,” she whined.

“It’s a pen, Marie,” Geneva reminded her.

Marie knew she was right. It was just a pen. Marie had ten exactly like it in her room because she knew her family well enough. Things like pens rolling just out of reach were common. Sitting on her haunches, she looked at Geneva. Sometimes it was hard to believe that there were so many years between the two.

Geneva always made a point to be fun, trying to get Marie to loosen up.

And Marie always acted older than her actual age.

Somehow, the two managed to find a way to meet in the middle.

“C’mon. Mere ‘n’ Pere are finally lettin’ moi get out o’this house.” Geneva jumped to her feet. “I need ya help pickin’ out what I’m wearin’.”

Marie yelped as she was yanked to her feet, stumbling and bounding up the stairs. As much as she could find Geneva’s energy a trifle annoying, she appreciated how much Geneva tried including her in her world.

It made things like “being in a thieves guild” feel a little more…normal.

--

Rogue found herself unable to sleep that night, eyes fixated on the moonlight outside. Geneva had left a few hours ago, checking in when she had arrived just as they had made her promise to do. She was a good kid. They both knew that. And yet…

“Do ya think it was a good idea,” she asked, knowing Remy had to be as awake as she.

“Non.” She couldn’t stop her smile. Her husband was such a grouch. “Y’convinced moi, remember?”

She rolled over, not at all surprised to see Remy had been staring at the ceiling. “Sugah,” she drawled. Rogue propped her head up, hating that Remy looked so absolutely distraught.

“I know we told her a couple months o’non fevers and she could go,” he grumbled. One hand was tucked behind his head, the other having found her knee. He squeezed gently, needing to know that she was there. “I know that, mas…What if somethin’ happens?”

The smallest sympathetic smile tugged at Rogue’s lips. “We’re both worryin’ over somethin’ that might not happen.”

Remy chuckled. Closing his eyes, the softest sigh forced his chest to rise and fall. “Been doin’ that. Hell, I thought the fevers might be a sign that…” He hesitated, afraid to voice it out loud.

But he didn’t need to. They had thought the same thing, believing Geneva’s crazy fevers and medical visits had to be connected to a brewing mutation.

“I know.” She curled against his side. “I thought the same thing.”

Silence fell between the two. Sure, it was a surprise and perhaps a bit disappointing that Geneva wasn’t a mutant. But maybe it needed to be this way. The Accords made being one of them so difficult. If she lived her life as a human, it’d be far easier for her.

A thud from their bedroom door broke the silence. They jerked as it swung open. Tante Mattie, Jean Luc, and Marie all stood there. Panic in their eyes.

“What,” Rogue asked, sitting up as Marie ran in. “What’s going on?”

“Y’need t’see the news,” Jean Luc told them, a waver in his voice that unsettled Remy.

The TV across from their bed flickered on, Marie standing just next to it with the remote in hand. The New Orleans news anchor wasn’t at his usual desk. He was…

He was on the outskirts of the bayou.

Remy stood up, eyes flickering to the ambulances, firetrucks, and police officers. Just behind all of the lights, taunting the world with its existence, was a fire.

“Police believe it was a mutant attack that started the fire.”

“Rem,” Rogue whispered. That agonizing fear tinged her voice, making Remy feel sick to his stomach. He didn’t notice her turn. She had to find her phone.

“Officials have already found four teenagers from the party. There have been minor injuries for the most part, but the kids have said there are still several that have yet to be found.”

“She’s not answerin’ her phone, Remy.”

A teenager’s face appeared on screen – pimply and awkward as ever. “It was so weird! The fille – There was lightnin’ comin’ outa her skin!”

Remy stood. His movements were quick, scrambling to find any clothes and settling on sweatpants and a sweatshirt. He stalked past them as Rogue rushed to find some clothes.

“Son, where y’goin’?”

Remy didn’t stop walking. He didn’t have the time. He only had one thing in mind --

“T’find her.”

[bang-and-a-blintz]

Through the Darkness

CHAPTER THREE - RUDA DE SÂNGE

Fandom: Dracula (2020)  

Relationship: Dracula/Roxana(OFC)  

Rating: Mature  

Warnings: None  

Word Count: 3,114

There was an awkward pause that suspended the room in time. Roxana’s brain was running in overdrive and her nerves were completely shot, but she managed to convince her lungs to return to function and smiled. “My name is Roxana von Hels and welcome to Sanguine.”

Dracula couldn’t believe his eyes. Another Van Helsing? The resemblance was unmistakable and suddenly the image of Zoe’s corpse lying in the morning sun flashed in his mind. However, this woman before him was very much alive. Her cherubic features and rosy cheeks were a vast difference from the pale, waifish complexions of the nun and scientist. The lack of sunshine in both Eastern Europe and England probably attributed to that, but even so, this Roxana had a certain glow that was unlike the others. 

He barely caught her words as she continued on about the dishes placed in front of him and his dinner companions. Not that he cared, because it wasn’t like he was actually going to eat any of it. Dracula didn’t even spare a glance at the food, for the sight before him was too delicious and he wasn’t going to miss a single moment.

As she spoke, he could still hear her heart hammering away inside her chest and his lips quirked, it seemed that she knew exactly who he was. Very curious. A million questions flooded his mind and he was ravenous for answers. 

After everything that happened with Agatha and Zoe, he shouldn’t be surprised to find another descendent of that incessant lineage. Was he doomed to run in circles with these women again and again for all of eternity? 

“Now, I hope you all enjoy, my colleague and I will be preparing the other courses in the kitchen. Should you need anything, Angeline will be happy to assist. Bon appétit!” Roxana clapped her hands and made to turn when Dracula’s deep voice stopped her short.

“Um, pardon me, Miss von Hels, might I have a word-?”

“I’m sorry, Mr. Balaur, but this is New Orleans,” She cut him off smoothly with a smile, not knowing what gave her a sudden bout of courage but she was going to roll with it, “And dinner precedes conversation. Please enjoy.”

A breath of a laugh escaped Dracula as his head tilted slightly, the words all too familiar to him and before he could speak again, she turned and fled. The mayor, his wife, and the attorney all chuckled boisterously, digging into their meals and sloppily clinking their glasses of wine, the dark red splashing all over. 

Smiling to himself, Dracula knew she couldn’t hide from him forever and he didn’t mind practicing a little patience. After all, the pawn had finally crossed the board and turned into another queen; the game was afoot.

“So, who is Agatha?” Ah yes, he might have forgotten about the woman next to him.

——

“Who the fuck was that?” Al exploded as soon as the two were out of hearing range, but Roxana could not be bothered with her friend at the moment. Her fingers dug into her hair and nearly ripped handfuls out as she tugged on the strands helplessly. 

This couldn’t be happening. It shouldn’t. But she had known that someday it might. Her grandmother always warned her that he would find her, but Roxana had been skeptical after hearing those folk tales all her life. It’s not like she actually believed any of the bayou voodoo hoopla! Who in their right mind would?

But she could still hear her grandmother’s voice telling her, “Someday when you’re grown, my sweet baby girl, that dirty rotten heathen will find you just like he found your ancestors. He will come in the night. He will try to steal your blood and your soul, but you must never ever give in, you hear me? That nasty vampire ain’t never going to get my grandbaby, no sir, Dracula better steer clear.”

The tales were one thing, as a child growing up around cajun folklore stories, something as laughable as a vampire was just that. A joke. Albeit a pretty fucked up joke, if Roxana was being perfectly honest with herself. But of course, to her misfortune, those myths became reality when two men in suits from the Harker Foundation came knocking on her door. 

As a precaution, they wanted to inform the youngest Van Helsing after certain recent events that involved her not-so-distant relative. They showed her footage of the night he emerged from the ocean outside of London, they showed her the footage of him at the foundation, they showed her photos of his victims strung across London, and they showed her just one image of what looked like herself sprawled out on a table in a pool of blood and a gaping hole in her neck. The last photo was Zoe Van Helsing, as Roxana came to learn, and she was left for the Foundation to find after Dracula vanished. She was very much dead.

All of a sudden it was very, very real. Vampires existed. Supernatural creatures wandered the world and feasted on humans to survive. The world was abruptly tilted and Roxana did not know what to do with this information. Neurons fired far more rapidly than her brain could keep up and she battled the urge to vomit all over their fancy suits.

They assured her that Dracula had no idea who she was or where she lived, that the whole debriefing was purely preliminary, but if she did come in contact with him then she should contact them immediately. They gave her a business card and walked back out of her life. 

As if they hadn’t ripped the metaphorical rug from right under her feet and then just fucked off leaving her with nothing but a small, disappointing rectangle to fight these newfound demons. 

Hands grabbing her shoulders and giving her an almost violent shake brought her back to Earth and she realized where she was. His eyes were nearly bugging out of his head, “Yo what is your problem right now? You look like someone told you they was bout to set a scorpion loose in your snatch, girl, you freaking me the fuck out!”

“Sorry, I’m sorry, shit.” Roxana sighed and went over to the bar to pull the bottle of Jameson off the shelf. “It’s nothing, I’m fine, just let’s forget about it and finish this dinner.”

He gaped in disbelief as she threw back a shot and walked back to the grill like nothing happened, “Nothing?! Yeah, okay, and I’m Pope John Paul. First off, Mr. Dark and Stormy straight eye-fucking you back there should have been illegal. Secondly, I haven’t seen you take a shot of jamo in three years - you know why? Because we almost died that night you took me out to the levee and we chugged a bottle and you broke your foot and you vowed never to drink that devil’s juice ever again. That’s how I know you a lying ass hoe!”

She took a deep breath to calm herself and looked back over to her friend with a sincere expression, “Please, Al, let this one go. I cannot and will not explain to you why I acted that way in there and I really need you to just trust me on this.”

Al looked at her for a moment, gaging the severity in her gaze, he’d never seen her so shaken. He did trust her though and when he finally acquiesced, her shoulders sagged in relief. “Well, alright, fine. If you say so.”

“Thank you.” Roxana meant it. The less Al knew about the vampire sitting out in their dining room, the better.

——

Dracula’s gaze slid over to the beauty seated to his left, it lingered on the curve of her neck and he felt slightly disappointed to hear the lack of a pulse. He had easily changed the subject from his misstep of calling their host by the wrong name, to a discussion of the future, specifically their future. 

He had met Keres at a gala months before, she had lured him with her beauty and they both were pleasantly surprised when they each tried to take bites out of each other’s neck. This was a first for Dracula as he had never met anyone else like him; sure he had plenty of failed creations under his belt and he knew of all the unresting souls trapped in their tombs, but never had he seen someone who wasn’t…feral. But apparently, it was a thing. Who would’ve thought?

She was around two centuries old from a small village in Italy, Keres had told him, after years passed by and she had not aged, the townsfolk took to action and chased her away with the classic torches and pitchforks method. Eventually her travels took her to the new world, starting in Massachusetts and making her way down South after the witch hunts started getting a bit too tense for her tastes. Like Dracula, she found a certain comfort, so to speak, in the city of New Orleans…it was a circus and she loved being the star of the freak show. 

As it turned out, the supernatural scene in The Big Easy was actually quite lively and she spent years thoroughly integrating herself into the culture. Time passed on and she started an organization to maintain a sort of order amongst the undead, lest they drink their fill and wipe out the entire population. Rules were set in place and those who failed to comply faced the consequences. 

This was the topic of discussion for the evening. The mayor had a tedious relationship with the supernatural order and so he orchestrated this dinner party as a truce between kinds. He was trying desperately to maintain control of his city, but unfortunately he was unaware that it was no longer his. Keres just allowed him to maintain the illusion.

Dracula took a sip from the glass of blood before him. it was an appreciated effort from Keres to provide them both with a tangy forty-five businessman; quite the fitting vintage for this particular meeting. The attorney was discussing the necessities of making sure the bodies stay down, which was the vampires’ responsibility, and as a rebuttal, Dracula pointed out the nearness of the Mississippi River. 

“Now, Mr. Balaur,” The man in the periwinkle suit smiled like a sleaze, “We can’t have these…animated bodies start floating up in the gulf or elsewhere. This is the twenty-first century and everyone’s been tagged up and geo-located in some way. They can be tracked back here very easily.”

The Count gave a resigned sigh and waved a hand absently, “Fine, fine, the river will be for emergencies only.”

The lawyer sputtered on his drink and Mayor Kendell laughed nervously, not completely sure if Dracula was joking or not. “Good fun, yes, good fun. Now we can agree that the locals are strictly off-limits -”

Dracula couldn’t help his incredulous laugh and Keres shot him a dark look in warning, but he waved her off as well, “What would you have us do, hm? Kindly check their identification before we sink our teeth in, I mean honestly, who has the time for that? It’s ridiculous.”

The mayor’s wife surprisingly nodded along with him and when her husband side-eyed her, she shrugged, “He’s got a point, you know.”

Keres swiftly cut in, her tone left no room for arguments and her eyes leveled the nervous humans. “What we will agree on, Mayor Kendell, is the policy of consent-only or the pre-deposited blood from donors. I have already procured documents of concurrence from the hospitals after a few generous donations from my organization.  Any creature of the supernatural shall have to accept these terms to live in our city, if not they will face exile or the stake. Do we have an accord?” 

The mayor’s face turned almost purple as he struggled to formulate any sort of counterargument. Clearly, he had never been spoken to like that, much less by a woman. His wife sat back with a small smirk on her face and took another generous swig of her gin and tonic. Clearly, she was loving this, and strangely not at all perturbed by the conversation’s subject.

“If I may,” Dracula interjected, dragging his nail around the rim of his glass, “It has been brought to my attention that various members of your esteemed society, Mr. Mayor, have proclivities towards the, oh shall we say, younger generation.”

The tension in the room thickened. Keres’ perfectly-plucked brow rose slightly as this was news to her.

He put his hands up defensively, “Now, I could care less what dirty deeds you aristocrats get yourselves into, and trust me, I have quite the record on just how depraved you people really are. However,” The sound of his clap made the men jump in their seats, “I think that we can come to an agreement here. It would be such a shame if this information fell into the wrong hands, don’t you think?”

At that moment, the kitchen doors swung open again to reveal Roxana and Al carting in the rest of the meal. Dessert could not have come sooner, Dracula mused and downed the rest of his glass, his eyes once more trained only on her.

———

When they walked back in, Roxana was unsurprised to see the dish in front of Dracula hadn’t been touched, but what made her weary was the fact that the same could be said for the woman to his left. Well, that and their matching red-tinged glasses clearly did not have the same consistency as wine. 

“How is everything so far?” 

It was quiet for a beat until the mayor’s wife elbowed him in the side sharply and he coughed, “Very tasty, Miss von Hels, as always. Yes, yes, your filet was superb!”

She didn’t serve them a filet but she figured he was a little preoccupied with dining with vampires to pay attention anyways. Surely he knew what they were.

Still, Roxana smiled brightly, “I’m so pleased to hear, sir. For dessert we have our buttered, brown-sugar bananas flambeaux with a dark rum and a cinnamon vanilla ice cream to top it all off.”

Angeline swiftly gathered the dirty dishes, blushing when Dracula sent a wink her way and disappeared just as quickly back to the kitchens. A timid little thing, he thought detachedly, like a fawn running scared in the woods.

With a whoosh, flames erupted from the pan in Roxana’s hand and took his attention once again. Her brow furrowed, pinching her face in stern concentration as she skillfully flicked her wrist and the contents suspended in the air before snapping back into the pan. The fire rose higher for a moment longer and reflected back at her from the darkness of his eyes, before dissipating into smoke. 

The mayor’s wife ooh’d and aah’d and clapped happily at the performance; four empty glasses were spread out in front of her on the table as a testimony for her belligerence. “Encore!”

Al dished everything out and returned the cart to the back, leaving Roxana so he could begin breaking down the kitchen. No one, except the drunk woman, touched their dessert. Instead, the mayor cleared his throat and looked over to Dracula, “I will agree to your terms, on the condition that we must have a summit dinner with the rest of the order. To break bread, so to speak.”

Roxana’s brow scrunched up again, but this time in confusion. What on Earth were they talking about? The elder vampire smiled almost whimsically at her disorientation. 

Keres noticed how Dracula could not take his eyes off the chef, he seemed to not be able to focus on anything else in the room when she was present, and it was quite intriguing. “That sounds wonderful, Mr. Kendell, might I suggest using the same venue. This is, after all, such a quaint establishment.”

“Wait. What, now?”

“And I would like Mr. Balaur to oversee this event.” Keres nodded decisively and drank the last sip left in her glass, giving Roxana look that said I dare you to oppose.

Dracula grinned devilishly, “I would be delighted!”

“It is settled then. Mr. Kendell, if you’d like to coordinate your guest list with him, please do so when you are ready, and we shall reconvene at a later date. If that is all, I will take my leave.” Her no-nonsense voice left absolutely zero room for discussion and Keres elegantly strutted out of the building. The mayor looked green. He was next to shuffle out the door with his stumbling and giggling wife in tow. The attorney downed the rest of his whiskey and avoided his eyes, making for the exit as well.

“And then there were two.” Dracula’s tone was playful and his eyes were alight with mischief as he poured another glass for himself and licked his lips. He relished the way her heartbeat picked right back up again.

“Look,” Roxana began, giving him a stern look that just tickled him, “I know there are things we need to talk about…but first I need to send my employees home and clean up. I refuse to let them be caught up in whatever this is and I will not have a dirty kitchen.”

In the blink of an eye, he was right up in her personal space and had his hand around her neck. The man towered over her and tilted her head up to look directly into his dark eyes, “And why should I wait?”

He felt her gulp underneath his palm and his teeth habitually elongated, her heart thundered viciously within her chest as she tried desperately to control her breathing.

“Because you’re just as curious as I am, Count Dracula,” she placed her hand on his wrist, “And if you wanted to kill me, you would have done so already.”

 “Perhaps I enjoy playing with my food first.” There was a beat and then he sighed, releasing her. She took a step back immediately and he bent his head towards her, not letting her put too much distance between them. “Don’t take too long, Roxana, we have much to discuss.”

taglist:

@moony691​ @vissidarte213​ @festering-queen​

[clansayeed]

Bound by Circumstance ― Chapter 24: Better the Devil You Don’t (Epilogue)

PAIRING: Nik Ryder x trans*M!MC (Taylor Hunter) RATING: Mature

⥼ MASTERLIST ⥽

⥼ Bound by Circumstance ⥽

Taylor Hunter (MC) has made it good for himself in New Orleans; turns out moving to a new city fresh out of college to reinvent yourself isn’t as hard as people make it out to be. Things only start to get confusing when he finds himself the target of a malevolent wraith. Good thing someone’s looking out for him though — because without Nighthunter Nik Ryder as his bodyguard he definitely won’t survive long in the twisting darkness of the supernatural underworld he’s tripped into.

Bound by Circumstance and the rest of the Oblivion Bound series is an ongoing dramatic retelling project of the book Nightbound and the rest of the Bloodbound series. Find out more [HERE].

Note: Circumstance only loosely follows the events and plotline of Nightbound, and features a separate antagonist, different character motivations, and further worldbuilding.

*Let me know if you would like to be added to the Circumstance/series tag list!

⥼ Chapter Summary ⥽

Someone does right by Cadence.

note: And with that Bound by Circumstance is ended! I’ll start posting book 3, Bound by Choice, in a day or so! Book 3 is the only book in the series not based off of an existing Choices book, and follows the story of the Trinity in a series of flashback vignettes. Taylor and the Nightbound gang will return in book 4!

Also, Bound by Choice is currently in-progress, as opposed to books 1 & 2 which were completed at the time of posting. Once I catch up on the last chapters posted, my updating schedule will go to the weekly update my AO3 is on.

[READ IT ON AO3]

A few weeks later…

[TEXT]: hurry up [TEXT]: where r u??? [TEXT]: ur loss I’m not waiting [TEXT]: BUZZKILL!!! [TEXT]: pic.jpg

The picture does it — finally draws his attention away from his computer to where his phone screen changes from 01:07 to 01:08 as if to taunt him.

It takes Cadence a moment to realize the woman next to Kathy in her (blurry) self-taken photo is supposed to be Ivy. So used to seeing her true form in person — but glamours don’t fade on digital recording.

And who else do they know dresses like she’s always ready to attend a Victorian funeral?

In his friend’s defense Cade was supposed to be at the Shift over an hour ago.

She’ll hear his excuses and his apologies, pretend as though he’s committed the greatest sin in history — but come sunrise and sobriety he’ll be forgiven. The Nighthunter likes to make everyone think she’s the picture of cool nonchalance; the human equivalent of a cat.

But anyone who feeds strays knows just how affectionate cats can be when they so choose.

He shuts down his work, fighting the instinctual habit to leave most of it out and make his space look clean by pushing it to the sides of his desk — actually putting things back in their folders and boxes.

Tap-tap.

His head jerks up quick enough for his glasses to threaten flight. Working in this particular space for over a decade now, there isn’t anyone who doesn’t know about Odd Cadence and his odd hours; how he refuses to work in the daylight due to a debilitating allergy.

Even Gary from night maintenance wouldn’t bother.

Tap-tap.

He listens for a heartbeat. Can hear everything from the rush of water through old plumbing to the coo of pigeons scavenging on the outside Square.

Tap—

Isadora de la Rosa doesn’t get to finish her genteel knocking; pale hand hovering just shy of the taller vampire’s collarbone as he holds the door open.

She looks a little dumbfounded for him to have answered. That’s silly, though, since she was in his territory now.

The air is thick with a tension not felt since Mardi Gras those weeks ago. She looks ready to turn and leave without a word between them. He almost lets her.

“Izzy,” by way of greeting, and even though she now runs the dynasty her father built he struggles to call her anything but the petulant youthful human woman he first met her as, “I was just heading out.”

He gives her a chance; sees the opportunity for escape that flickers in her weathered eyes no longer young but no less defiant by nature.

Some people were just born ready to stand their ground. He always admired that about her.

“This won’t take long.”

One step forward, one step back. A familiar dance neither acknowledges as Isadora invites herself into his space. She’s not the oldest thing in the room by far, nor the most expensive. Still she commands the air around her to whisper softer, for the floorboards under her heels to wait until she passes to creak.

“Sure, come on in…”

She makes a point of trying to keep an arms’ length between her body and any clutter. He won’t apologize for it, not to her. She was half the reason he’s like this.

“I’m glad to see the Museum is treating you well.”

“Uh-huh.” He’s never met a de la Rosa good at small talk. He still hasn’t.

But she keeps trying. It’s hard not to cringe at every forced word, how she purposefully finds something to look at and mention; “New project, I see.”

Cadence doesn’t answer. She switches a black leather briefcase from one hand to the other; a poised woman’s version of shuffling her feet.

“You always were best kept —”

“I have somewhere to be.”

Her quirked brow says it all; how she definitely doesn’t believe him but calling him out on it is somehow counterproductive to why she’s here.

Why is she here?

Because the only reason he can conjure up has to do with the Coven, and the Council, and that’s why they’re enjoying nights like these at the Shift. To forget about everything that happened — to move on.

“Look, Izzy — if this is something that can wait, can it? I’ve got office hours tomorrow night—or hell, I’ll even come ‘round to the family house. But I do have somewhere to be, and I’m already late.”

When she takes stock of the room again he understands. It’s a tactic — and not a very good one — to allow her to think.

They’ve never been like this before. So why now?

It’s a brief flicker; blink-and-you-miss-it type. But Cadence doesn’t miss it — how Izzy stares at the chair claimed by Katherine in permanent marker.

“You’re going to meet her, the Nighthunter.”

“My friend Katherine, yes. Among others.”

“She treads dangerous waters in this town.”

It sounds a little too much like a threat for Cade’s comfort. Makes it a real effort to keep from letting it get to him.

“I think the same could be said for any hunter.” For Katherine, for Ryder.

“Yes, you would know,” she clasps the case handle with both hands over her front; a shield between them, “though this one — she’s different, isn’t she? She’s well-connected.”

Like he’s been fumbling around in the dark of his head — he finally finds the lamp chain and tugs. Lets the light flood through with an “Ah” of understanding.

So that’s what this is about.

“Contrary to what you may believe this isn’t the same world Carlo built his dynasty in. Humans — even Nighthunters and especially out-of-towners — they don’t whisper the rules to one another anymore.” Then, with firm conviction; “Katherine didn’t know she needed to ask your father for permission to bring Adrian Raines into town.”

“But you did.”

“Yeah, I did.”

If she’s here to enact some sort of delayed punishment, Cadence can’t promise he’ll stay civil. “I weighed the risks carefully,” he continues, “and decided it was best for everyone that no one knew who didn’t need to know.” Not that it had been a good choice. Maybe it could have saved Raines at his trial.

Sometimes he wonders why the two of them didn’t work out — especially when she was Turned. It wasn’t because of her perceived age, and obviously being his boss’ daughter hadn’t stopped them from getting involved in the first place.

He always remembers not a moment later. There’s a reason the term is ‘opposites attract.’ They were too similar — too hot in the head and both prone to speaking and acting without thinking ahead. Without considering the consequences.

So when she isn’t sneering an insult at him on the heels of Cade actually admitting to his wrongdoing… he knows something is very wrong.

“Izzy…?”

And the smile she offers is too forced, too fake. Sends shivers down his spine. “I’m glad you see things that way.”

“What way?”

She unclasps the briefcase with a flick of her little fingers. “That sometimes, in rare cases I think, withholding knowledge from someone is for the best; for all parties involved.

“I had prepared to give you this the night of the Minotaur’s championship fight…” The leather bound folder she pulls free is familiar only in that he’s seen the de la Rosa lawyers carry them like extensions of their hands. “And I have spent many hours since debating whether or not I made the right choice in keeping it close. Watching you in the cage — that made it easier.”

“Something’s happening, Kath—”

“Don’t fight it. Let it swallow you whole.”

Let it swallow you whole.

Katherine couldn’t possibly have known just how accurate she had been.

How it felt to stand at the edge of a yawning abyss no one else could see… and how it felt to have the ground fall out from under his feet the moment he decided to jump.

Memories of what happened after his meeting with Isadora still only came to him in clusters. It was less the act of remembering than feeling the same way — sensory triggers like the smell of blood or the tinny grate of a chain link fence.

Of course she had seen the fight. There were members of the underground community still who approached him on the street with praise for his ‘performance,’ or thanking him for standing up to the illegal deals Persephone covered with velvet and glitter.

But there’s a difference between knowing something and knowing it. Knowing the same hand he used to caress her cheek had also torn off the Minotaur’s horn. Knowing she was witness to it…

Isadora’s touch is solid, without the heat humans bring or the chill they feel. It simply is as she gives him the folder with no other choice. Whatever secrets rest inside they are his burden now.

“What you see here… I ask that you please not think less of me for keeping it from you. I was…” she doesn’t give an excuse — not a single one, “I was doing what I thought was right. But I cannot be the one to make that choice anymore. It’s too much Cadence; it’s far too much.”

He means to find comfort or some understanding in their hands. But there’s none to be found.

They pull away as intimate strangers. The space between them cavernous and echoing — and it only grows wider as he realizes she isn’t the one creating it.

He doesn’t need to ask what mystery he now holds.

What other mystery is there but the thing that has plagued him from their first “hello” to this their last “goodbye?”

Cadence’s voice is calm, even to his own ears. “Is this everything?”

“All that my daughter could find among his possessions.”

“And if I have any questions…”

“No,” she interrupts, “no you may not bring them to me. I would rather meet the sun than invite the conflict this will bring into my city, to my family’s doorstep.”

He wants to call her selfish but can’t say he wouldn’t be the same way were their roles reversed.

It’s a nice fantasy—altruism, kindness, doing the right thing so as not to hurt someone close—but it is a fantasy.

So what if he carried the ring she returned to him for a decade in mourning?

And intuition is a very separate thing from mind-reading; that he knows. In Isadora, though, the lines between them have always been a little smudged.

“In case you have any ideas of this meaning…” she breathes and tries again, “just know this has nothing to do with our past, Cadence. Consider this to be an act of release. Beyond what the Council will ask of us, I wash my hands of you.”

Isadora’s decision is as clear now as it was then. She will always choose her family over him. He can’t begrudge her that in the least.

“If only it were that simple.” But it’s probably for the best.

She leaves as abruptly as she arrived. Somehow with the ability to disrupt everything in his space without touching a single thing. As he looks around the office now it feels tainted with secrets and lies; all the things he still doesn’t know that now rest in his hand.

He need only look.

The chair is less than five steps away but he can’t muster the energy to move both his legs and arms; chooses the latter because what comparison is comfort to answers?

Cadence opens the folder and begins to read.

[sunshineandfangs]

End of the Beginning

Step 12: Christmas in NOLA

@howeverlongs and @joey-prue

Warnings: some show typical violence, allusions to Damon’s treatment of Caroline, Darker!Klaus, alternate history and first meeting

Caroline tossed back a shot of vodka, relishing the burn of it. It wasn’t even quality vodka, but then she wasn’t drinking for the pleasure of it. She was drinking to get drunk. Well, as drunk as her vampire metabolism would allow.

Yesterday, she had honored the life her mother had lived. Flipped through old photo albums and allowed the memories to wash over her. Happiness, exasperation, fondness. Tidied up the house and boxed up all the knickknacks of sentimental value. Had the most important ones shipped to her current home. Even lingered carefully in the shadows as the Mystic Falls police department gave their former sheriff a proper send off.

But today was about the grief. Perhaps, had she been younger, not had some sixty years to come to terms with her mother’s mortality, the grief would have broken part of her. As it was, it hurt, but it was the bearable kind of hurt. The kind that she would carry with her, a new weight, but not the kind to pierce through her, it wouldn’t leave her bleeding.

Raising an arm, the blonde flagged down the bartender, requested another round of shots. She only had time to throw back one of them when she sensed another presence beside her. It was a vampire, though not an old one, potentially younger than her even.

Setting the glass down, Caroline turned, arching a questioning eyebrow.

“Yes?”

The seemingly young man looked a bit apologetic albeit firm as he requested she come with him. “I’m afraid all new vampires need to check in.”

She swallowed a scoff. There had been rumors that New Orleans had rather strict rules for the Supernatural community, but a summons of all things? That was a bit...archaic.

“Seriously?” She blurted. “I’m not planning to stay, only for the holidays.” And it was true. The rumors were one of the reasons she had avoided NOLA until now, but visiting had been on her mother’s bucket list. In fact, it had been their planned trip for Christmas, and though part of her twisted from the absence Caroline decided to go anyway. So she arrived the 23rd, gave herself the day to wallow, but firmly planned that the 24th and 25th would be full of every holiday attraction.

The man half-shrugged. “Yeah, it’s a bit much, but that’s the policy.”

Caroline sighed, stuck a hundred dollar bill under the glass, and followed the vampire out the door, making sure to snag her purse as they left.

“I’m Josh, by the way.”

Disgruntled, but not one to shoot the messenger, she offered her own name with only a hint of bite in her tone. “Caroline.”

“So, you’re lucky, the King had business elsewhere.” ‘King?’ Caroline silently mouthed, brow scrunching. Josh continued without pause, either oblivious to or expecting her reaction. “Either his protégé or his brother will see you and they’re both less...intense.”

She couldn't help herself. “Okay, but seriously, King? He calls himself the ‘King’?”

Josh actually stopped and turned to look at her, eyes surprisingly serious. He leaned in a bit closer, lowered his voice to his a whisper.

“You may think it’s ridiculous, and perhaps it is, but the King isn’t one for disrespect. I’ve seen him rip heads off for less than that. He may not be here, but he has a way of knowing things.”

Caroline frowned, but nodded. Europe had its share of old, pompous vampires, so she knew to hold her tongue. This certainly wasn’t worth dying over.

“Ah, you must be Caroline.” She looked up, eyes taking in the handsome black man before her, his teeth a brilliant white as he smiled at her. There was a cunning kind of charm to him, but he only felt a few centuries old at most. Tentatively, she marked him down as the protégé.

Standing she offered her hand with a practiced smile. “That’s me. It’s nice to meet you…”

Giving it a firm shake, he nodded at her. “Marcel.”

“Nice to meet you, Marcel.” She tucked a curl behind her ear, looking innocent and nonthreatening. “So, Josh told me about the whole check-in thing. What does this entail exactly?”

“Nothing much, just a few questions. Your name, how long you’re staying, when and where you ��turned. Then, you’re free to go.”

Caroline slowly nodded, doubting that was the whole truth, but it was pretty basic information.

“Well, my name’s Caroline Forbes and I only plan to stay until Christmas is over, the 26th at the latest. I was turned about sixty years ago in Mystic Falls.”

Alarm raced down her spine at the way Marcel stiffened for a split second though his expression remained pleasant. Caroline had developed keen senses over the years, unusually sharp for a vampire of her age. She could feel that the air in the room had shifted. Something about what she had just said was more important than she had assumed. 

In a moment, she realized why.

“Apologies, Miss Forbes.” Caroline whirled to face the voice, though careful not to completely turn her back on Marcel. It belonged to a brown-haired man bedecked in an outrageously expensive suit. She could feel the waves of power wafting off him, older than any she had felt before. Paired with the way he had appeared silently in the doorway, a terrible suspicion started burning in her gut. “I must ask that you remain here until my brother returns. He will wish to meet you.”

“Your brother?” She asked, wary and not really bothering to hide it. It seemed the time for facades was over.

“The King,” he said simply.

Not good. Josh hadn’t exactly given the man a glowing recommendation.

“And I suppose I can’t return to my hotel in the meantime?”

His lips quirked. “I’m afraid not, Miss Forbes.”

She barely resisted to the urge to rub her forehead in exasperation, though she used the feeling to beat back her instinctual fear. Now, wasn’t the time to panic.

“I see. I’m sorry, I haven’t caught your name?”

“It’s Elijah, Miss Forbes.”

She felt him watching her carefully, but she couldn’t control the way she froze. The way her heart stuttered a beat. How many ancient suit wearing vampires named Elijah could there be? She hoped it was at least two, but judging by their reactions if there were two, this wasn’t the second one.

That was the last thought she had before her world went black with a sharp crack.

“Pity,” Marcel muttered as Elijah hefted the fallen blonde from the floor. Her neck at an awkward angle.

When Caroline came to, not only did her neck have a lingering ache from being broken, but her wrists, arms, and shoulders felt strained as well. It didn’t take her long to realize she was chained, though she kept her eyes closed.

This was very, very not good.

“We never encountered her, Niklaus, I doubt she knows anything.”

There was a dark chuckle. “Please, with a last name like ‘Forbes’ and a noticeable reaction to your name? You know better than that, Elijah.”

There was a quiet sigh. “At least try to control yourself, brother.”

A whistle of air and Caroline knew one of them left. Elijah, if she had to guess.

Footsteps moved closer to her hanging form, the weight of the power accompanying them enormous.

“You did a commendable job not reacting to my name, sweetheart, but I know you’re awake.” The back of a finger stroked her cheek. “Even vampires have little tells when they return to consciousness.”

Caroline let her eyes open, face expressionless as she took in his smirking visage. The curve of his mouth invited while his eyes threatened, a glacier blue glinting wolf-gold. He was uncomfortably close to her, his knuckle still brushing the edge of her jaw.

She steeled herself and jerked her arms, letting the chains rattle. “Is this how you treat all your guests?” She bit out.

His eyes darkened, and he leaned closer, his nose just brushing hers. “Surely, Josh warned you of my intolerance for disrespect?”

Caroline lifted her chin as best as she could. “He did.” She smirked sardonically. “But you won’t kill me until I tell you whatever it is you want from me. And after that, what I do won’t sway your decision to kill me or not. So I refuse to spend my last moments begging for my life.”

He almost looked impressed before he seized her jaw.

“Brave little vampire,” he rumbled. “You are quite correct. But I assure you, I can make the agony of your death linger for decades. Centuries even.”

She swallowed, throat dry as she read the utter sincerity in his eyes. Falling silent, she didn’t provoke him more though she refused to apologize either.

He spent several long moments just observing her before he moved back a step, releasing her jaw. Arms crossed behind his back and a pleasant expression on his face, he’d seem ordinary if not for the sinister air about him.

“Now,” he uttered, pupils dilating, “tell me what you know of the Originals.”

The smart decision would be to act compelled. But she honestly wasn’t sure how good of an actress she was, nor what orders an infamous nightmare like Klaus would give her. Besides, a part of her rebelled at the idea of capitulating to compulsion of all things. He may kill her. Torture her even. But she refused to be twisted up into a caricature of herself, living in constant fear of something endlessly stronger than herself. Refused to have her choices ripped from her a second time.

She licked her lips, held his gaze as she carefully spoke. “I will answer all your questions, but I will not be compelled. Not by you. Not by anyone.” Not again.

In an instant, Klaus was pressed against her. His fingers weaving through her hair and yanking her head to the side, burying his nose in the curve of her neck. A split second later fire ran through her veins, his venomous teeth tearing through the delicate flesh there. She felt every agonizing pull the Original took of her blood, slumping in her bonds as he stepped away.

“There’s truly no vervain in your system. How curious.”

Caroline strained to lift her head, the rapid effects of his bite as startling as they were frightening. Her vision was starting to blur, but he appeared almost contemplative as he returned her stare.

To her shock, he bit into his wrist, pressing the wound to her lips. It was like sin on her tongue, its power alleviating the burn and knitting her skin back together after only one sip.

He watched her drink, eyes glinting with intrigue. “You and I have more to discuss than I thought, Caroline.”

AN: So, this one kinda lacked the Christmas angle, though it was technically Christmas Eve...

In terms of history, Caroline had a rocky relationship with her parents after turning, but eventually they accepted her. Bill even taught her to resist compulsion.

[je-suis-clarisse]

The news of the child vampire, Claudia's demise, had moved through Paris faster than the plague had moved through the entirety of Europe in the Dark Ages. The whole thing was everywhere and even Clarisse du Volde, who was something of an outcast amongst them all, heard it. It saddened her to think of the famed 'Brat Prince', Lestat de Lioncourt all alone. She had been compared to him throughout her life. Both were French, had dabbled in theatre, were blonde with remarkable eyes, and each was themselves. It was something the others seemed to envy; that the pair had a sense of themself and held to it. Neither were bothered about the 'rules' of their lifestyles. Clarisse had to admit that she had been in awe of the elder vampire for some time. Still, she listened to the chatter but did not comment on his misfortune. Only once did she venture to speak out, and it was when someone said he 'had what was coming to him', and she had threatened to burn their coffin to cinders, after which she would blow the ashes to the north, south, east, and the west. It was the only time she had allowed the vampires of Paris to know unnecessary cruelty would not be permitted before her. She did pride herself on having manners; manners that Vivian du Volde had instilled in all four of her children. Even though she did not wish to claim her youngest, her lessons were well learned and Clarisse applied them to her everyday life, even now. What he needed, she decided, was a friend. Someone to cheer him, for he certainly couldn't be enjoying life. He had lost the two beings who meant the world to him. Clarisse well understood the pain of losing a child. She had already been planning to revisit New Orleans and thus, she made it happen, taking a leave from the theatre and returning to the city that had captured her heart years prior. Even better, she would not be here when there would be a war on. Hopefully, some of the wounds inflicted upon one another would have begun the healing process. Clarisse had seen it first hand when she'd been visiting years prior. The ship she boarded some days later was called 'la reine de la mer'. The voyage was mostly pleasant, though she did ache to see the sun's rays against the water, shimmering. Her stateroom was lovely enough but she could only leave at night. She had hired a maid for the journey, one who understood that the porthole in her room was to remain covered during the day and that she was to not be disturbed at all when the sun was out. She explained that the life of an actress had her schedule entirely 'topsy turvy' and she had to follow it. No one bothered her, fortunately, nor questioned her about it. Considering the amount of money she had paid, they'd damn well better not bother her. She was also glad to see that they didn't question when someone in steerage died questionably. Clarisse namely picked off the older ones, those already close to death. Beyond that, she kept to herself and at night, it wasn't uncommon to find her sitting on the deck gazing out at the night sky, sketching what she saw...or what she'd like to see. Occasionally, someone might stop to see what she was drawing, but mostly the others frowned at her charcoal stained fingers. She always found it amusing how stuck-up some people were. She knew that even though she was wealthy, she did her best to be kind to all of those with whom her path crossed. It was as simple as that. Besides, even those who did look at her work and offered to purchase a piece, she declined. Her sketchbook gave life to what she missed most. It was her connection. It also contained drawings of the people going about their normal days. What would her life be now, had her son lived, she wondered? She'd drawn him too. There was no record of him anywhere. He lived only in her mind. There was a cross where he was buried, but no name. She'd been unable to afford the engraving. Clarisse closed her eyes as the child crossed her mind. His sweet face, tinged with blue lips and stillness. It hurt her still, even all these years later. Her mind went to Claudia, whom she was told was a beautiful child, though her mind was that of a woman grown. She had heard that she had beautiful flaxen curls and big, round blue eyes that seemed to see all and know all. That she was wise beyond her years. She had the finest attire and was as refined as anyone. Claudia sounded like someone she would have delighted in a meeting. However, her bitterness ultimately caused her demise. Clarisse did want to feel sympathy for her--and she did. To create a child vampire was cruel. Lestat ought to have known better. Yet, she could not fault Claudia for feeling anger towards her sire and for trying to kill him. She had done the same on the night of her own siring. Like Claudia, she was unsuccessful in that. Claudia, however, had given Louis the nerve he needed to leave. If her goal had been to isolate Lestat, well, she had done that. Clarisse had no idea what had become of Colin. She'd thought him dead, but he was, much to her chagrin, alive and well. Scarred from his burning, but alive and someday, he would have his vengeance.   Putting him out of her mind, she found herself thinking of the child vampire again. Clarisse tried to envision what her last moments were like before the sun touched her porcelain skin for the first time in years. Did she hope that there would be an escape? That someone could save her? And the agony she must have felt once her flesh burnt away to nothing. She wondered if she would ever subject herself to that. If when she tired of life, if she'd step into the sun and end it all. It was something all vampires considered, she supposed. Didn't they? She didn't know. She had never had the opportunity to ask another one. Frederick was in Rome--and not speaking to her, her sister Vivienne...she didn't care to know. The rest of their family was long dead. She was, essentially, alone in the world, except for the occasions where she took a lover. And that was rare. Who would ever want a walking corpse? Along with drawing, she read and practiced her English with the maid. By the time they reached New Orleans, Clarisse felt confident in her English speaking abilities. It was always a delight to master a language. It was simply her accent that would make things challenging. Clarisse would manage though. She was an actress. It was what she did, not to mention, whatever hurdle was tossed at her, she endured. Much to the chagrin of many. What could she say? It was just her lot in life. To endure where others did not, could not. She surprised even herself at times. But ah, New Orleans! When her feet touched the ground, she felt the same feeling she felt in Paris--that she was home. It cemented her plan that she would make it official and buy something whilst she was here. To deny herself the pleasure was absurd. Hailing a hansom cab and seeing to it that her trunks were packed on and she climbed in with Celine at her side. For the first week that she was there, Clarisse had rented out a room in the quarter. She'd also put a deposit in for a townhouse within the quarter. It needed some work done and she had her maid, named Celine, tend to the business for her during the day time. At night time, Clarisse reacquainted herself with the city. She was always struck by the diversity of the people here. There were as many people of color here as there were white people. She loved the melting pot that was New Orleans. She loved the vibrancy, how even at night, the city felt alive. She loved the scent of the banana trees and the earth after a day of rain. The food with all of its rich spices and flavors, the stories... many things made Nouvelle Orleans a beautiful place. It was also no wonder that other vampires came to visit. She listened to them and one evening, she heard what she wanted most to hear. The following night, Clarisse was heading to Prytania Street. It was a quiet street, near to the Layfayette Cemetary. It was not where she'd want to live, a stark reminder of where she ought to be. She was just over a century old--most of those as a vampire. She had been 'dead' more than she'd been alive. She was looking out of the window of her hansom cab before finally asking the driver to stop. Stepping down, she smoothed out the folds of her dark blue dress and closed her eyes for a moment, letting her senses tell her if this was the right place. Within moments, something told her to leave. That she was in danger where she stood. However, Clarisse was not one to listen. She was not afraid. Perhaps she should have been, but she had endured enough that she was not bothered with being scared. The house was small but lovely. It was inviting. Certainly different from the home she resided in back in Paris. Some teased and said her estate looked like something the royals might have lived in. It had been somewhere the Duc de Orleans had visited a century prior. But the Greek Revival styled home was beautiful. Clarisse liked the columns and the porch, as well as the wrought iron fence. She paused to trace her fingers over the design for a moment, tracing over the fleur de lis and finally, she found her nerve--rather, more than likely, her audacity. She walked up the cobblestone pathway and onto the porch, raising her hand to the doorknocker and knocking, allowing him to know he had company. Wanted or not. monsieur, i have come a long way to meet you, she called out to him telepathically, letting down her guard and allowing her thoughts to be read; allowing him to see that she was not here to harm--as if!--him. That she had no ill intention, but only to be a friend. "Monsieur de Lioncourt," she spoke as the door opened finally. The moment was here. There was no going back now. There was no mistaking him. The violet hue of his eyes, the glassy nails, the blonde hair curling just above his shoulders. But there was a weakness in him. She could feel it. It came from a place of despair and her heart swelled in sorrow for him. She knew that this was most certainly unconventional and God knew, it was rude to drop in like this. However, the word was that he had no friends. Louis was with Armand, supposedly. Lestat de Lioncourt was alone. But if this went well, he would accept the friendship she offered and the care.   The dark moons under his eyes revealed he required blood. He looked worse for wear...and perhaps she should have turned and run the other way, but she squared her shoulders looking up at him. "Monsieur, I am Clarisse du Volde," she introduced herself, slowly in English. "It is truly an honor to make your acquaintance," she dipped into a respectful curtsy and then...it was a matter of waiting to see what he was going to do.

[hayleymarshalldaily]

Gigi / other admins what are your predictions for TO season five, like honest predicitions not unrealistic ones? also why do you carry on the blog when you say you no longer like the show?

My (Gigi) honest opinions are here:

First and foremost I predict this is the last. I don’t think they’ll have another season, and I think the writers will be aware they’re writing their last.

Unnecessary teen drama fuelled by daddy issues with Hope because her father never picked up the phone despite breaking the rules and visiting Elijah (lord don’t get me started) and first love boyfriend drama with Roman. First two/three episodes will jump around with different locations including the school but i think by episode four they’ll all be home in new orleans (I’m predicting now Roman will die, probably similarly to Jackson in that he died because he was too close to a member of the family.)

I suspect they’ll have Hayley either go with “I never stopped loving you Elijah” or ‘learn’ to love the new Elijah, or just be plain over the battery, I’m a bit 50/50 on how quickly they’ll get his memories back. I have a feeling Elijah will have a new love interest who will fail to hold his attention once Hayley is back in his life or he gets his memories back, I suspect Hayley may also have a new LI who will have 30 seconds screentime total and will also be ditched in favour of H/E. We’ll probably learn little about what Hayley’s been doing in the past decade or so, she prolly wont have a job or have picked up a new hobby and they’ll once again make out like every waking moment was spent trying to get the mikaelsons together again and she just didn’t have timeeee for herself (or they’ll make out like she aint even bothered because that wouldn’t surprise me either with the way nobody including hayley fought to keep them all together at the end of last season)

I suspect we’ll have minimal Rebekah as per season 2/3 due to the fact Claire’s new series got picked up to order, I think we might have Kol/Davina drop in together every now and then, depending on when Danielle wants to film. (Though even if she was completely free I dont think they’d ever bring them both to mains)

I’m monumentally disappointed with the lack of flashbacks this season, I really am, but with the cut down time I suspect there’ll be the same amount in s5, then again if Klaus really does return back to how he used to be due to losing Hope (literally and figuratively), maybe we’ll get some more so they can draw comparison. Josh will probably be the same as he was this season as well, they’ll make a reminder that he has a boyfriend or something and then never show the guy again, then he’ll be used randomly as/when to fit plans. We’ll prolly have a couple of shots of Cami’s grave again so I suspect that’ll remain the same.

I predict that Rebel will have broken up by the first episode and Marcel will be back in New Orleans. (small chance they’ll break up in the first episode after realising that it just isn’t working out and they’ll make a show of Rebekah staying wherever they are at that moment and Marcel going home. I suspect Rebekah/Marcel will have been in a very tumultuous on/off again for the past 7/8 years) Rebekah will drop in when the drama starts and they need her for something, her and Marcel will gaze longingly and may have gotten it on again by the end of the season.

I suspect that Freya/Keelin will be ridiculously happy and soppy though Freya will feel guilty over how long her family have been separated. Keelin will comfort her and that will lead to more soppy stuff. The writers have made it v clear they’re all in for this relationship to be happy and not end so there’s really not that much to ‘predict’ with this one.

Hope will probably have Bonnie/Davina level powers that she’s still not got amazing amounts of control over due to the sheer level of power she has. Will probably lose control a lot.

Vincent... idk about Vincent, he’ll prolly have his own sideplot that’ll link into the main somehow. Same goes for Marcel, I dont really know where they’d go with him.

I think The Hollow plot will be solved by episode 2 and then the s5 villain will problem will take root in episode 3, like in this season just passed, where season 3′s problem was solved at the end of episode 2 and then the hollow came in and messed it up for them when they finally thought they were gonna be okay.

Klaus... I’m with everyone else they’ll probably have Klaus with an old edge to him because he’s feeling bitter that once again he’s had to give up his child in order for his family to be okay, and for all he has had growth in the past couple of years, this is klaus we’re talking about, it *will* get to him deep down that his family get to go off and basically be perfectly happy with their partners and elijah gets to unburden himself of them all but he gets jack shit and cant be with Hope once again.  But then again we were told to expect Klaus with PTSD from the dungeon and he had a total of one scene where we saw the effects of that so whoooo knows if they’ll make it effect him. 

Depending on what capacity they get Candice I suspect they’ll have Caroline be the light in his life again or whatever when he can finally go near Hope again and he don’t know how to act they’ll have Caroline act like she knows her better than anyone else since she’s been her teacher (yeah the vampire teaching the witch, okay, whatever, moving on) and will help Klaus with Hope.

Ric will probably make a cameo in either the first episode or an episode later down the season.

There’ll probably be a K/D, H/E, R/M & K/C endgame. But i wouldn’t be surprised if they had it so R/M weren’t actually endgame and have them accept that they’re always gonna love each other but it’s never gonna work out.

I’ve heard talks of a Hope spinoff, and maybe there is an actual plan in JP’s head for this or maybe there isn’t, But I guarantee you that if they do a backdoor pilot (prolly where Alaric will actually enter) then it’ll flop. Theres no longer a market for that kinda show. Not a TVD meets Harry Potter meets Buffy which is how I expect they’ll try play it off. I think Hope was aged up because they had no idea what to do with a seven year old tbh, and this is the CW, so there *must* be some sort of romance with a central character. Hence Roman. I suspect Hope will be bratty and have an attitude and wont be the shy completely selfless kid we met in s4, and they’ll probably either try saying it’s her genetics or because Klaus wasn’t around enough.

(my unrealistic hopes though are hayley having an actual job and maybe going back to the pack since it was confirmed she was still living in new orleans and being an alpha and liaising with Vincent to be the head of the wolf faction again, having more flashbacks, minimal daddy issue drama with hope, more haycel/hopecel, little interference from TVD including MF, and not stringing out the elijah drama, if you’re gonna give him back his memories just doooo it don’t make it last all season, also freya getting a job might be cool, and learning vincents actual job when he’s not casting spells... you know... just saying)

I still run this blog because I’ve invested a fuckton of time into it, this blog is like my baby tbh, and I still love Hayley as a character even though I’m not okay with the show rn or tbh a lot of the way Hayley is written, she’s still a character that I very much so cannot let go of just yet. Also I found out that Carina will be a producer this year which I let fill me with a tiny bit of Hope because whilst she may not have ultimate power on the actual plot like Julie does, she’s very much so always been very pro Hayley and has always written incredible scenes for her, and has also written some very decent K/H/ scenes (whether or not she or anyone else ships them romantically, some of the best K/H scenes where they talk about Hope have been written by her) 

Royal I’m assuming doesn’t care enough to give a prediction for s5 because she’s over the show, I know from speaking to her though that she’s still part of the blog because she enjoys the company (ayyyy) and has also been here from the very start and has invested a lot into it. Royal’s done a lot for the blog BTS.

And this is Sarah’s response:

My predictions for the show are pretty bleak (for me). I don't like this time jump. At all. Literally, there is not a single thing I like about it. I think they built the show on Klaus' redemption being through being a father to Hope, and yet he's spent literally less than two years actually raising her. So, what's the point of him being a father if he's not actually being a father? You providing biological material and/or money and possessions does not make you a father. He got what - two months with her where she could actually form memories and half the time he was fighting a big bad. Yes, his sacrifice was noble...I guess. 

 So, we're gonna get Hope with daddy issues. Which is very valid for her to have because she can't actually spend quality time with her father. And she apparently doesn't get to be raised by her mother. But that's all good because saint Caroline has a school she can attend and that's super more important than her being raised by her mother. Obviously, there's no witches in NOLA who could teach her. No witch children she could make friends with (or werewolf children for that matter). Nope. None. Not a single one. Certainly none with the last name Mikaelson. Noooooope. Can't think of a single witch who could teach her. 

 Also, add in the fact that the sides that were released (which I doubt will make it onto the show) have Hope completely isolated and has no friends because everyone is scared of her. But totally worth not being raised for extended amounts of time by either of her parents for her to not have friends...she gets a boyfriend though!!!!!!! And that's all that matters, right? 

 Basically, I think they aged up Hope because now they can push the magic school spin-off with Hope as the lead once the Originals ends. They're baiting other fans in with talk of Caroline and KC and whether they actually go through and produce either - who knows. 

 I think eventually they'll get back to NOLA. Hope will leave the school (since apparently she has no friends there in the first place). Her boyfriend will follow and be creepy like all the male vampires on this show. But she'll ignore it because he's dreamy and dangerous and blah blah blah. The show will continue reusing plot lines and nothing will actually ever happen or be accomplished. Somehow the Mikaelsons will put the Hollow down for good and we'll see Klaus again not knowing how to be a father/trying to make up for lost time because that's all the writers apparently know how to write. Maybe we'll get big bad Klaus again, and when he's finally reunited with Hope, he'll start his redemption arc again. Wash, rinse, repeat.