#Anne x Vincent | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

fadingdaggerr · 2 days

Note

HIIII! I LOVE THE FIC YOU WROTE, THE AND NOW? SINCE UHM YOU'VE DONE CASUAL AND RED WINE SUPERNOVA, DO YOU THINK YOU CAN DO ONE WITH GOOD LUCK, BABE? OF COURSE WITH A HAPPY ENDING BUT WITH LOTS OF ANGST? OH AND IF YOU CAN'T OR TOTALLY DON'T WANT TO, IT'S ALSO FINE!

truth be told

pairing: melissa schemmenti x gn!reader

summary: melissa loves you, in what way, she doesn’t want to know. based on good luck, babe! by chappell roan | 7.8k

includes: they/them used for reader (legit once), r is mean direct during the fights (within reason? up to interpretation), angst, HURT/comfort, happy ending

warnings: internalized homophobia and comphet, unhealthy relationship dynamic, swearing, verbal fighting, light kissing/making out

note: i do think melissa is bisexual, but the song is about a lesbian dealing with comphet, so for the sake of the fic, melissa is meant to be read as a lesbian. let’s go lesbians, let’s go! buncha lesbians coming thru! also u can’t tell me mel isn’t a taurus. be so fr. i know lisa’s a leo but look me in the eyes and say that a primary trait of ‘stubborn’ isn’t melissa. u can’t. ruled by venus? like come on.

I, Melissa Ann Caterina Schemmenti

You’re quite comfortable in this spot on the floor, curled against the couch with your head resting against Melissa’s thigh, rounded nails grazing over the stretch of your neck and exposed shoulder. Eyes numbly glued to the corner of the coffee table, the chattering of the Schemmenti family around you feels far away, not even Vinny and Annette’s arguing over God-knows-what can reach you. It’s peaceful here, even with the yelling and seemingly genetic snort-laugh they all possess. It feels like home in every way.

Something that sounds far away, underwater, that resembles your name passes your ear, but does not breach the wall of comfort around you. The light rocking of your head and grazing nails turning to gentle scratching pulls you back to shore, head shifting to look up at Melissa, eyes scanning her face. All you manage is a questioning hum as you regain your social bearings.

Melissa’s hand slides up your neck to softly hold your chin, “was asking if you’re alright. You’re awful quiet down there by yourself.”

“‘M good, Mel. Just existing, I guess,” you answer, leaning into her more.

Her thumb brushes over your cheek, just barely passing the corner of your lips, foregoing an actual response. The twitch of a smile against her skin has her heart racing, her own light smile fading. Melissa’s mind pushes the casualness to the forefront of her mind, how you are so at ease in this undoubtedly chaotic environment. A sip of her wine replaces the instinct to rip her hand away from you, cross her legs and leave you suddenly without a place to rest.

Take you, Joseph Vincent Peterson

“Why does this credentialing shit have to be so intense? I mean, seriously, didn’t I just fucking do six years of schooling and another two, two, of assisting,” Melissa loudly complains as she goes through all her notes over the counter, “that should be proof enough, but no.”

You grab her tensing hand from across the table, ceasing your organizing of notes by topic, “honey, see how confident you are though? Means you’ll kill it, won’t even be a sweat.”

“You don’t know that,” she says dejectedly, peering back down to her elementary mathematics notes.

“I do,” you say, standing from your seat to round the table and stand behind her. Slowly, you wrap your arms around her, reaching for her balled hands, and leaning to rest your chin on her shoulder, “I know these things. You got this in the bag, pretty.”

Taking a deep breath with closed eyes, Melissa relaxes against you as a lingering kiss is pressed to her cheek. Turning slightly to face you, she presses her own lips to the corner of yours in silent thanks. You suck in a tight breath, she rarely ever allows herself to be so affectionate, even a kiss on the cheek is a rare occurrence. Sure, Melissa is a hugger, with only a select few, but this is so different. Blood rushes to your cheeks, and you are grateful her eyes are back on the notebook and she can’t see the dumbfounded look on your face.

You give her another half hour to obsess over words on a page before convincing her to call it a night, not even you can bear another moment looking at any of this. Admitting defeat, she lets you guide her to the couch, melting into the plastic lining. Melissa watches as you take your place against the arm of the couch, legs crossed in front of you while you flip through channels.

It takes less than ten minutes for the redhead to slowly start scooting closer, creaking plastic making her movements unstealthy. Taking the hint, you uncross your legs to make room for her and open your arms in quiet invitation. Unlike her previous shifting, Melissa nearly pounces into your arms, taking residence against your chest. One hand goes to her hair, scratching her scalp, the other rests on her arm, massaging the muscle.

It’s hard to tell when, or even if, Melissa is asleep on you. Her lack of talking or the slightest movement leads you to believe she’s dead to the world. Only a small whisper of caution passes your mind as your lips press to her crown, lingering there longer than you should. Snuggling into you, the redhead suppresses the smile of utter peace that begs to cross her wine-stained lips.

To have and to hold

Movie nights are always some of your favorite times with Melissa, struggling on a puzzle that you swore you could do. When you were sober. Now, the border still remains incomplete as your attentions divert to the TV when dramatic music begins playing. Admittedly, you aren’t really watching the movie to begin with, but Melissa seems to be so engrossed she hasn’t realized she’s still fidgeting with the same piece.

Aiming for her hand, you flick a puzzle piece into her lap to get her attention. Peeking up over the frames of her glasses, Melissa looks at you quizzically. Gesturing to the puzzle, you look back to her in silent question. She answers in a shrug, moving in tandem with you as you sit up to sit on the couch. A little grin grows as she realizes that she’d get to take her typical spot, but she has something else in mind.

Rushing ahead, she takes your usual spot against the arm of the couch, legs open to make space for your body and arms stretched out in invitation. Without question, you take your place, tucking your face into her neck as her arms wrap around you. Melissa is so warm, so warm that you feel like a cat on a sunspot, settling into her as her breathing calms your heartbeat.

Something switches in your mind, a sense of bravery fills you, and you press your lips to Melissa’s neck gently, lingering against soft skin. You try to pull away, but a hand on the back of your head keeps you in place, and you’re quick to oblige. Lazy, wet kisses glide across blushing skin, never harsh, not one mark left, just simple adoration.

Frayed whimpers leave her as you find a particularly sensitive spot, just below a freckle on the underside of her soft jaw. You can’t help but smile against her at the sound, instantly becoming your mission in life to hear it again and again. Trailing downwards, you stop at her clavicle, allowing your teeth to graze the bone, relishing in her breath hitching. She is chrysanthemum and mirth personified.

Wanting hands pull you up to her lips, and you stay hovering, barely a space between you. Noses brush, nails dig into your neck, hearts rapid. You feel you should tell her before you go any further.

“I love you,” it’s merely a whisper into the miniscule space, but it makes her hands pull you down to her lips. All teeth, all tongue, all need, but she doesn’t match your words.

For better, or for worse

Arm-in-arm, you and Melissa brave the harsh wind of the Philly night weather. She hadn’t believed you, and now she’s proven wrong, of course she passed her credentialing exam with nearly perfect scores. You’ve always told her how you have enough faith in her for the two of you.

Whiskey sours brought you together, at this very bar, having seen each other drinking one after finals junior year, and whiskey sours were how you celebrate every occasion. Ever since then, she has stolen the maraschino cherries from your glass with a grin, always pretending she didn’t.

Three drinks in, Melissa sweet talks you on to the dancefloor. With little room from the sea of people, she stays pressed against you, hands gripping at your sides. As the music slows, she slides her hands up to your neck, looking into you with something you can’t place, but you don’t complain. She’s a heavenly being, especially under the color-shifting lights and strobes. Green irises flick from your lips to your eyes, and there’s something in them that makes you desperately need to kiss her. Fluttering lashes quicken as she catches herself, stepping back before you can think of acting.

Just as much as she seems to not notice the pattern, you pretend not to.

“I’m gonna get a beer,” she shouts over the music, refusing to make eye contact. You manage a nod, watching her disappear into the crowd of drunk dancers. Carefully, you weave through the crowd to the bathrooms, needing a moment to breathe air without sweat mixed in.

After an embarrassing amount of recovery time, and a hit off a pipe offered by a kind stranger, you make your way back out to the bar, scanning for familiar red hair. Spotting her, no longer near the bar, but off to the side with a man. Melissa’s wearing her go on, get me a free drink smile, teeth just barely digging into her bottom lip, and he seems to be perfectly happy to do so. And you let him, cozying up to the bar to order a double to nurse.

Against your better judgment, you periodically check on Melissa and this mystery man. At first, her hands are to herself, and impressively, so are his. A few sips later, and her weight rests on the hand on his leg, leaning into his space with hooded eyes. Bile rises in your throat. You want to leave, but you came together, leaving her isn’t an option, not that it ever has been. When you check again, the man’s hand is cradling her face, and Melissa’s eyes flick to yours briefly.

She wishes she didn’t see the way your lips pursed, forcibly hiding a frown. In an effort to displace this feeling she can’t describe bubbling in her chest, she lets Joe kiss her, rough and wanting. Melissa kisses him back, lets his hands roam, nods when he mumbles to ask to take her home. With an arm around her waist, she walks with him as he walks her out.

Passing by you, she asks him to wait and sidles up next to you, “I’m- uh- I’m going home with Joe. You good to get home?”

“Yeah, love walking” you reply shortly, “just text me the address, so I know the secondary location.”

Melissa gives you an unimpressed look, “not funny. If I need a ride out of there, can I count on you?”

Looking her directly in the eye, you respond, “you can always count on me.”

Joe drives her home the next morning, with a hand on her thigh that makes her skin crawl, but she lets him. When he asks if he can see her again, she tells him she’ll let him know, and he seems to take it in stride. Stepping inside, taking her shoes off, making coffee, she’s fine. But the moment Melissa sits on the couch, a dark, twisted feeling crawls up her back and into her chest at the thought of seeing you later. The inevitable conversation you’ll have makes her feel sick, almost feeling as if she has to hide it despite you knowing.

For richer, or for poorer

It almost feels too good to be real. Here in Melissa’s room, fan blowing, radio playing some classic rock station, on top of her comforter, pressed against her. Her lips dominate yours, tongue stroking yours for another taste of the cherry cola you’d been drinking when you got here, currently going flat on her nightstand. Greedy hands hold your shirt, refusing to let you move, needing you right where she has you.

Some days, she reveled in your attention so much that she would let herself turn her head when you went to kiss the corner of her lips. It always leads here, with her lips on yours, though she particularly loves it when it travels to her room. Your hands on her hips, fingers just barely dipping under her shirt, only the softest of touches. Always so gentle with her, your touch was never anything more than featherlike, especially so in moments like this.

Needing air, Melissa cups one side of your jaw and travels down your chin, to your jaw, to your neck, open mouth kisses littering your skin on the other. Shaky pants pass your lips, spurring her on further, mumbling baby as her teeth nip at the unmarked expanse of your neck. The hand in her hair only scratches her scalp, as it had before, but the slower ministrations match your deep breaths at every pass of her tongue. A thought passes her mind, one that freezes her from head to toe. Melissa needs you like this forever.

Feeling the lack of lips on you, your eyes peek down to Melissa’s paling face. Warmth leaves you as she pulls away, rolling from her side to lay on her back, face fear stricken. Taking the hint, you don’t touch her, just propping yourself up on your elbow against her pillow, “you okay, baby?”

You watch her take a few deep breaths, keeping your eyes on her saints, “I’m fine.”

“I can-” You take a breath yourself, “I can go, if that’s what you need.” Her short tone was making you squirrely, and her eyes forcibly ignoring you wasn’t helping the case.

“You don’t have to go. I said I’m fine,” she realizes her own tone, “I just… I just need a minute.”

“Okay,” you say slowly, rolling off the bed, “I’ll go put something on for dinner… you can take over when you’re done with your minute.” Melissa only looks at the door once you leave, face crumpling as she tries to push tears back.

She doesn’t need you, doesn’t want you, she doesn’t. She doesn’t, she doesn’t, she can’t. Not when you hold her hand to not lose her in crowds, not when you fix her hair before getting out of the car, not even when she caves the moment your lips brush hers. It’s hard to deny the way her heart clenches when you forgo her name, always baby or pretty. It’s easier to say she loves you when she reminds herself you’re her friend.

In sickness and in health

Joseph ‘but call me Joe’ is a major pain in your ass. After three months of having his number, of not mentioning him, she texted him to invite him to the bar with you and your friends. Not once did she mention him coming, yet here he stands in a navy auto-body shop t-shirt. Their previous, singular night together clearly gives him this gnarly confidence, arm around Melissa’s waist and a hand just above her ass.

Your fingers burn from your biting, wishing you could throw the glass in your hand at him. He dares touch her in front of you, and she dares to let him. Each forceful placement of your glass back on the table makes green eyes flick to you, but they dart away before you can look back. Melissa wishes that the permanent frown on your face didn’t make her so upset.

Instead all she feels is acid in her throat, guilt and self-disgust making her squirm under Joe’s touch. Joe. She entirely forgot his presence until his hand slid into her back pocket. Peeking up, she notices that his eyes are not on her or the people talking, but on you, a hard look in his eyes. Acid bubbles, angered that he dares to look at you with such contempt.

Melissa nudges him with her hip to get his attention, cocking her head towards you in silent question. Joe leans into her, “your friend looks at me like I’m breaking a rule touching you.”

“Doesn’t mean you need to give the ugly eye. They’re just looking out for me,” she mutters, taking a sip of the amaretto sour he ordered her. It’s God awful, but she deserves as much in her mind.

Joe just gruffs a laugh, “looking out for you or jealous?” He takes her silence as not understanding, “when you’re not getting goo-goo eyes, I’m getting death rays.”

She won’t dignify an answer, hoping he’ll just take it as processing. Melissa knows, oh, she knows how you care for her, how you do more than just that. How you love her. It makes her feel ill, when it’s so clearly swirling in your eyes. The fact that others know, both her family and not, how they push her towards you, it’s terrifying.

Her mother adores you, always asking if you’re coming to dinner, begging for your presence at every dinner after the second one you attended. Kristin Marie jokes with you, not just insults, even asks your advice on things. Annette calls you Melissa’s other half, and when she gets a stony jade glare, it’s only because you two go everywhere together.

As if she knows it’s on her, she meets your gaze from across the table. Her mouth opens to speak to you, but a hand tugs her chin to the left, and Joe presses a rough kiss to her petallike lips. It’s a dare, a dare to cross him, a dare to even look at Melissa, a dare to take what he claims as his.

Forty horrible minutes pass, and on her way back from the restroom, Melissa scans the room. Everyone was right where she left them, chatting through mouthfuls of chips, except for you. Your spot had been filled in by the others, empty glass still sitting on the coaster. Over his shoulder, Joe gives her a grin, sated, waving his hand to get her closer.

Her hands scramble through her purse the second she’s seated, digging for her phone in hopes of a text from you. A single notification sits on her screen.

To anyone else, to Joe rudely peering over her shoulder to read the message, it would seem normal. However, Melissa knows better. There’s no heart at the end, no little ‘love you,’ probably written after you’d already started your journey. Just simply got tired, walking home.

In irritation, definitely not to shovel away guilt, she lets Joe kiss her again at the end of the night, after she downed another amaretto. Even lets him take her home, though he tried taking it back to hers, but to have him in a bed you have lied in? Unthinkable.

Joe’s kisses are as rough as his hands on her, just short of hurting when he grabs at her breasts. His voice is gruff as he offers to drive her home, despite her not feeling anything close to pleasure, close to some sort of good. It’s divine punishment, it seems.

To love and cherish

Melissa misses you. You are right next to her on the couch, yet she misses you. She’s grown too used to the comfort of laying against your chest, having your arms wrapped around her as you watch whatever movie she decides on. It’s ridiculous, truly. She’s with Joe, she shouldn’t be seeking comfort from anyone else, but her ear longs to be above your beating heart.

You’re still pressed against the arm of the couch, though you stay balled up and keep unblinking attention on the screen. The thought passes her mind to simply scoot up next to you, but it’s unwise with the mood you’re in. Since she called you and said Joe officially asked her to be his girlfriend, you’ve entirely pulled back. Not so much as a kiss on her cheek in six months. Melissa feels like she’s in the thick of withdrawal.

Green eyes feel like crosshairs as you feel them scope your body, attempting to read your displeasure without asking. Truthfully, you want to be here with her, but the clock on your time goes down with each second that gets closer to Joe arriving for their date night. In effort to not cause a fight, you’ve kept away, always leaving before he gets there so as to not be forced to talk. Joseph gets a lot of joy in reminding you he’s there to see his girlfriend.

“What?” You speak into the open air, not bothering to peek at a staring Melissa.

“You’re quiet,” the redhead offers cautiously. She’s seen your bad side, but she’s never been on it. Silence from you is a sort of weapon.

You sigh, “I don’t have anything to say.” More like you don’t have anything good to say.

“You’ve got plenty, or else you wouldn’t be quiet. What’s going on in that pretty head of yours?” Her hand comes to stroke your hair, an attempt to smother the fire, but you duck away from her touch, finally looking at her.

“Just drop it, Melissa. You don’t wanna hear it,” you look back at the TV. It’s the most honest you want to be with her.

The calm demeanor drops, “and how do you know that?”

“Because I know you.”

“Tell me.”

“No.”

“Tell me.”

“No.”

“Tell! Me!”

“You! You are what’s wrong!” You shout as you turn to face her, brows furrowed and nostrils flaring. “You kiss me! You touch me! You tell me you care about me! You hate every woman that gets within ten yards of me, who dares show interest in me. For what?” Melissa is in shocked silence, not answering. “Because you can’t stand that they want me, that I could want them too? Because I could maybe, just maybe, have feelings for someone that isn’t you?”

“That’s not-”

A bitter laugh leaves you, “have you ever stopped to think about what you’re doing to me when you kiss me, let me kiss you, and then just start sleeping with some guy? How do you tell me you care about me more than anything and then kiss him in front of me? I have never hidden how much I love you Melissa, not once, and you rub it in my face?”

Standing from the couch, you try to create distance as you pace with your hands on your hips. You can’t even look at her, knowing the hurt look on her face will break you. You’ll say it’s all fine when it isn’t. This dam cannot be patched. She tries to hide it, but you hear her sniffle as she stands to be level with you.

Her arms cross to create a proactive barrier, “you are the one that just assumes it’s all about you. Joe is a good guy, he cares about me, loves me. He tells me, he tells his friends.”

“And do you care about him? Love him too?”

Melissa’s eyes widen, “I… I could.”

“You could?” It’s almost a laugh. “You sound real confident in that ability. Let me know how that goes.”

The red she sees matches her hair, “and what have you done? Sit and wallow.”

“Oh, sorry, were the many times I said ‘I love you, Melissa’ not clear enough? Or were you just purposefully pretending to hear ‘you’re my bestest platonic pal’?”

“How was I supposed to know what that meant?!”

Your stills, a sudden calm coming over you as you realize the lost cause, “be so fucking rea- you know what? I’m done.” Stepping around her, you go to the door to put on your shoes, feeling like there’s glass coating the soles.

“You’re-”

“Going home,” you say standing, “I can’t do this anymore. At this point, I’m just torturing myself.” There’s no pause before opening the door.

“Please, don’t leave,” Melissa’s voice cracks.

You can’t face her, “I love you. But I can’t say I feel the same about the idea of you only loving me when others aren’t around.”

“I love you, I do. Just, please don’t go.” The door slams in Melissa’s face.

Eyes stay on the driveway as you leave, immediately pulling into your spot, Joe.

Until we death to us part

A surprise dinner for their one year anniversary might just be the most romantic thing Joe has done for Melissa the entirety of their relationship. He called her to tell her to dress to the nines, well maybe the sevens, which made her laugh, quick to hang up to start curling her hair. As she sections her hair, she wonders what kind of restaurant, which cuisine, silently praying that it’s not Italian.

Leaning against his truck, Joe lays on the horn to alert her of his presence, climbing into the cabin as Melissa steps outside. When she gets in herself, Melissa does a once over of his clothing for the evening, hoping to not find an oil stain that seems to be on every single shirt the man owned. None. Not even a mark of too-much-bleach to get rid of an old stain. Collar pressed, not a wrinkle in sight. Joseph bought a new shirt, just for tonight.

“You look handsome,” she says, leaning against the middle console to press her lip to his cheek.

Wiping her gloss from his face, through a cocky grin he says, “thought I should clean up.”

Metallica plays on the radio, no other conversation is even attempted before he pulls into the parking lot of Yamitsuki. Joe’s already a quarter of the way to the door by the time Melissa gets out of the truck, carefully dropping to the pavement in her heels. At least it’s not Italian, at least it’s not Italian.

In hopes to get and keep his attention, her arm wraps around his when he reaches him at the host stand. When the host seats them, Joe yanks his arm from Melissa’s to get in the booth across from her. The redhead sits silently, letting the man order her drink and the appetizer he wants. When he reorders his beer, wanting an American brew, she mentally steps back. Nodding and humming seems to get her through most of these conversations.

A loud laugh from the hibachi station captures both hers and Joe’s attention, though he seems more interested in the puffs of fire coming from the grill. The woman laughing grips the counter as she tries to catch her breath, her date, facing away from Melissa, is shaking with laughter as they rub the woman’s arm. Silver catches the light, and green eyes are drawn to the rings on the date’s hand. A wide silver band, only one constellation engraved into the metal. She doesn’t have to look closer. She knows it’s Taurus, she knows it’s hers.

Tempura, onigiri, even her beloved donburi, they all taste like straw as her mind rotates her constellation brushing against someone new. Melissa doesn’t even have in her to frown when Joe slams his glass on the table to get the attention of the server as they rush past with trays. Peeking away from the adult tantrum over a Budweiser, her eyes go back to the grill.

God, she wishes she hadn’t. Talking kindly to the cook, she gets a view of your profile. Warm lighting makes you glow, the easy smile on your lips makes her heart clench. You’re here, with this woman, and you’re happy. You’re without her and you’re happy. Her grip in the table cloth tightens, pulling everything her way.

“What’s wrong?” Joe asks with a mouthful of noodles. Her eyes snap to him, brows furrowed in confusion, “your face, you look upset. Is it the food?”

She finds it in herself to smile a little, “I’m fine. Just spaced out for a second.”

He doesn’t believe her, so in true Joe-fashion, he talks about everything and nothing to move her attention away from whatever’s bothering her. It would be annoying if it wasn’t a tad endearing.

A silent prayer goes to all deities above when she walks into the empty restroom, Melissa also locks the door to ensure the privacy stays. The ringed fingers gripping her lungs let go, and for the first time since she walked in the restaurant, she can finally take a deep breath. Leaning on her hands against the counter, Melissa looks at herself in the mirror. Time to put your big girl pants on, Schemmenti.

Turning on the sink, Melissa runs her hands under the cold water to cool down, the splotchy red on her chest finally dissipating. Shaking the water from her hands, she nods to herself. Turning on her heel, she forces her shoulders back, spine straight, totally fine. Stepping back into the hall, she immediately collides with another person.

“Shit, I am so sorry,” a familiar voice says as hands hold onto Melissa’s elbows to stop her sway. Long lashes flutter around wide eyes as she only stares, watching your eyes fly from where your hand rests on her arm to her face. Your eyes quickly widen as your hands pull away, though they harden swiftly, concern becoming stone. “Sorry,” is all you mumble before turning away from her, giving up on your journey to the restrooms.

What possesses her, she doesn’t know, but she follows you. Grabbing your arm, she tugs you in the restroom she had just left, locking the door behind her, she leans against it as you just stare at her. The unblinking glare you give is something she hadn’t ever been on the receiving end of, but it feels as awful as she assumed.

“Nothing?”

Your jaw drops a little, and you let out a sharp, breathy laugh, “nothing? Nothing what? Was I supposed to faint?”

“Was maybe thinking you wouldn’t just walk past me when I haven’t seen you in six months.”

“And why’s that?” At her lack of answer, your head tilts, “did you want me to stay behind glass to break in case of sudden realization?”

“Sudden realization?” It could be better to play dumb.

Biting your cheek, you look at the ceiling before you speak, “yes. Sudden realization. Maybe realize that kissing me, wanting me to kiss you, it’s pretty gay. Very gay, actually, in my professional opinion.”

“I’m not gay,” Melissa mumbles, twiddling with her fingers. Maybe playing dumb wasn’t the move.

You nod slowly, “right.”

“I’m not. I love Joe, we’re here for our anniversary. I’m not gay.”

Closing your eyes, you exhale deeply, “glad that’s settled. Can you stop holding me hostage?”

Melissa can feel the weight of your words. You’re not just a hostage of this room. You’ve been perpetually held hostage by your feelings for her, imprisoned for years and years, with never getting the love you bore in return. She tries to step closer to you, but you move at the same time, pivoting around her and unlocking the door. Your name leaving her lips in a cracked voice makes you halt, but the simmering fire in your chest refuses to let you soften.

“Let me go, Melissa. Should be easy, since, you know, you don’t love me, not really.”

“B-” The door shuts in her face again.

This is my solemn vow.

—☽—

Melissa wakes with a jolt, beads of sweat gliding down her spine. Heaving breaths constrict her chest and she drops her head into her hands in an attempt to focus and calm herself. The tight feeling in her chest dissipates as a final deep breath leaves her lungs, face cooling and heart slowing. Lifting her head from her hands, she peers to the right to make sure she hadn’t woken Joe.

Perhaps she would have, had he been there.

Joe was only ever home maybe two nights a week, always ‘working late’ and coming home well rested the next morning. Nina was getting most of his time these days, all his attention, love, and acknowledgement. It was getting hard to keep track of the times he’d almost called her Ni instead of Mel, after it hit double digits, she didn’t care anymore. It was clear now, more than ever, that she was his wife in nothing but name.

Only in her dreams does she get a level of peace, the smell of patchouli and spearmint comforting her in the haze of sleep. Oversized knit sweaters and denim brush her skin in this personal Eden, but the morning sun brings her to gasoline and another woman’s perfume.

A part of her, deep in the back of her mind, screams, and it has only gotten louder over the last ten years. The voice screams, bordering on blood-curdling, telling her how much she hates him, how much she doesn’t love him, how much she regrets him. Every morning she wakes with him gone, the more she listens to that little voice. Every time she smells Chanel on the Eagles jacket she bought for their five year anniversary, the voice gets a little louder.

The voice warps and becomes familiar as Melissa stares blankly at the empty space beside her. You could? Let me know how that goes. If you were able to see her now, you’d be giving her that raised brow, biting your inner lip to keep from saying something she probably didn’t want to hear. In this moment, she would do anything to hear what you’d say, even if she may cry, even if she doesn’t know where you are.

With her mind running a mile a minute, she was unable to will herself back into sleep, giving up to make coffee instead. As if the universe wanted to mock her, the door quietly opens and closes, careful footsteps walking through the living room before the pause in the doorway to the kitchen. Joe and Melissa just stare at each other blankly, silence permeating their existence in these four walls. Without another word, she just pours him a cup of coffee, spooning in a little sugar before sliding it towards him.

Joseph, to his credit, reads that something is wrong, terribly wrong. There’s no anger on Melissa’s face, not even a twinge of sadness. The few times she was awake when he got home, she wouldn’t even look at him, just frown, but now, nothing. Sipping his coffee, he accepts the fate that comes at him like a fastball.

Before he even fully sits down across from her, she speaks without breaking eye contact, “I want a divorce.”

Joe did not argue, he’d seen this long coming. He saw it when they told her parents they were engaged, how Annette had to purse her lips, Kristin Marie taking her sister aside to talk privately. He loved Melissa, for a time, but he knew she loved the non-existent obligation to him, and he drifted. Regrets of his behavior disappeared the less Melissa seemed to care. Their positions were identical; he is only her husband in name.

By the end of March, he was fully moved out and placing his key in the palm of her hand. Pausing his steps, he turns back to Melissa, pressing a short kiss to her cheek, “I hope you find what you need.”

July is Melissa’s favorite month. No school starting or ending, no prep days just yet, not even a single manilla folder on the coffee table. Just Melissa, Cabernet, and the sunlight. She felt content under the sun, warming her skin and making the freckles across her chest and shoulders bloom. When Barbara invited her to the beach, she almost said no, until the mention of a private beach hut and bottomless margaritas.

By the second marg, the cackles coming from the hut could be heard from the waterfront, not that the two women cared. The third, and beginning of the fourth, the conversation went from silly to serious, both women speaking in not-so-hushed voices.

“He just didn’t care. I said I wanted a divorce, and all I got was okay. Was expecting some sort of fight,” Melissa says as she plays with the pink umbrella in her drink.

Barbara’s head drops to the side, “to be fair, dear, you weren’t really in it anymore either. You can’t seriously think he couldn’t pick up on that.”

“Wasn’t expecting a screaming match or anything, just a talk. I tried making it work, he’s the one who was out and about with Nina.”

“Melissa Ann,” Barbara starts, “you have been mentally checked out of that marriage before you even walked down the aisle. I’ve known you seven years, and I’m sorry, but it’s been clear you didn’t love him anymore. If you ever did.”

The redhead stares at Barbara with a heavy look, “what do you mean by that?”

“I’d like to think I know you well. And knowing you means I see you, see you as you are. That man, any man, is not what you long for.” Putting her drink on the table, Barbara reaches over to grab Melissa’s hand, squeezing it lovingly, “you look more in love in those university photos that you do in your wedding ones.”

Melissa fiddles with her fingers, “I’ll never have that back, I’m too late. It’s too late.”

“It’s not. Not too late to give yourself the space to see yourself, to find who makes you happy,” she reassures her friend. The tears threatening to spill from Melissa’s eyes make her tug her in for a hug, “you will be okay. And you won’t be alone.”

—☽—

Elaine stands from the table slowly, avoiding Melissa’s eyes as she mumbles a bye and leaves the bar. Six months down the drain, all because Melissa wasn’t ready to move in, just barely having given the woman the code to the door so she could let herself in. She’d called Melissa scared and a child, but what hurt the most, a coward. The redhead didn’t even dignify her with a real response, just saying if you’re done, then go. I won’t stop you.

Sipping the last of her drink, Melissa pays the tab for her vodka soda and the cosmopolitan Elaine had, telling the bartender to keep the change as she leaves to walk home. Walking the three miles home wasn’t going to be fun, but she could maybe clear her head, definitely get tired enough to fall asleep on the couch.

Ten minutes into her journey, a voice from nearby was calling out, catching Melissa’s attention immediately.

“Bosco! C’mon, inside time!” The laugh that follows stops Melissa in her tracks, another call of Bosco has her walking quickly to find the source. Under a streetlight, she pauses.

Across the street, in a little fenced yard, was a Brittany spaniel doing laps around the yard, darting and dashing away from the owner. Giggles filled the yard as the dog and owner seemingly played tag, the collar jingling in tandem with the laughter. Green eyes trail away from Bosco. You.

You look the same you had the last she saw you, apart from your hair being longer, smile lines a little deeper. Melissa can’t help it, eyes going to your hands, scanning for rings she doesn’t find. No wedding band, but especially, no constellation. Had you gotten married and divorced like her? Were you just the kind to not wear your ring? She doesn’t think so. Are you happy? You look happy, she hopes you’re happy. How long have you been here? Only two miles from her? Last she knew, you left Philly to no-one-would-tell-her-where.

She watches you stop running, hands on your knees as you speak breathily, “alright, for real. Inside time, Bosco baby!” Tears spring to her eyes as your grin grows, watching your dog gallop towards you and almost knock you over. “Oh, you’re excited to watch Living Single, huh? Let’s go.” Melissa watches Bosco trot next to you as you disappear behind the door, from her.

A watery smile crosses her lips, you were still watching the show you watched together nearly every night. Melissa still remembers the nights where you would play with her hair, twirling it around your fingers as she sunk into your chest, pressing soft kisses to her head as you giggled at something Khadijah said to Max. Those nights were her only sense of comfort, and for years, the mere memory would make her heart quake.

Pressing on, she keeps on her way home. Instead of falling asleep when she finally gets to her couch, Melissa turns on Living Single and curls against the arm of the couch, nudging her nose into plastic-wrapped fabric. She can almost smell the incense and mint gum.

For the next couple of weeks, Melisa takes it upon herself to go on more walks. Walks to the deli, to the bar, to the coffee shop, even to the park. Occasionally, there are days where she takes the longer path, one that passes the fenced yard of a brick building. To her dismay, she has yet to see you. Part of her panics, thinking that you may have seen her and were avoiding being seen. The rational part reminds her that you have a life. Luck just seems to be running low.

On a chilly Thursday, however, she stares at her feet to keep the wind from making tears and smudging her eyeliner. The clacking of steps on the pavement and jingling of a collar brings her eyes up, a familiar spaniel practically tugging against the blue leash. Bosco looks at Melissa’s still form, and starts pulling harder, trying desperately to meet a new friend.

“BoBo,” you almost whine, looking up from the grocery list on your phone, “hell you doing bud-”

Stopping in your tracks, your arm jerks as your dog pulls, but you stay in place. Wide eyes meet, and all either of you can do is stare. With a huff, Bosco pulls again, forcing you closer to Melissa. Nudging her hand, he begs to be pet, forcing her hand on top of his head.

You swallow the lump in your throat, speaking quietly, “you can pet him.”

Wordlessly, without taking her eyes off of you, her nails scratch gently at the dog’s head. Your own eyes flick around her face, only quickly dipping to where her hand pets Bosco. No ring. Shaking your head, you look back up.

“Melissa,” you say with a little nod. The corner of her lips turns up at hearing her name from you. “How are you?”

“I’m good, I’m good…” She clears her throat, “how are you?”

“Yeah, good. You still teaching?”

A little smile stretches across her face, “second grade, over at Abbott in West. Eleven years, almost, now.”

“That’s nice, Abbott’s nice. Micah’s daughter’s starting there next year,” you say, fidgeting with the leash in your hands.

A surprised laugh leaves her, “Micah’s got a kid? Jesus…”

“I know,” you chuckle, “the man who still ties his shoes with bunny ears.”

Bosco takes the second of silence to hop up on Melissa, front paws going to her chest as he tries to sniff and lick her face. The motion shocks Melissa, who only manages a little oof! You’re quick to move, stepping close to hold under his arms and gently pull him back towards you, still hopping and trying to get to Melissa.

“Dude, what the hell?” You say, looking down at your dog, before quickly going back to Melissa, “I’m sorry about him. New people are apparently chew toys to him.”

“It’s okay,” she replies with a smile, she’s more than okay right now. Entirely stunned by the newfound closeness, the time passing around only really hits her as a car honks at a bicycle in the street, insecurity crawling in. Clearing her throat, she adds, “I- uh- it was nice seeing you.”

The little smile falls from your lips, “oh… Okay, yeah. Nice seeing you, Mel. Sure I’ll see you around.” With a little frown, you gently tug Bosco’s leash, him immediately walking with you.

Melissa turns quickly and starts to follow you, almost running to catch up. “Wait, wait. That came out wrong. I didn’t mean go, I just- it is nice to see you,” she speaks through little pants. “Would you wanna get coffee or a drink sometime? Catch up? Only if you want to,” she rushes the last part, trying not to seem as desperate as she is.

And there it is. The little grin she loved so much, had missed so much. You try to suppress it, but it’s entirely impossible. “Whiskey sours?”

—☽—

Whiskey sours. Coffee. Meeting at Wawa for lunch. Diner pancakes for supper. It was small, and then it was damn near every day for weeks on end. Time had taken the anger she had last seen in you, replaced with sheer nerves, and now comfort once again. Melissa slowly gives in and shares little things, trying to gain your trust. The lack of any Joe-mention was telling enough, as if no ring wasn’t practically shouting. To be subtle or to not be subtle, that is the question. But this is Melissa Ann Caterna Schemmenti.

“Random question.”

“Potential random answer,” you reply through a bite of your burrito.

Melissa mulls over her words, “is six months together not stupid soon to move in with someone? My ex called me a child for saying no fucking way.”

“Personally, yeah. Knowing you, even bigger yeah. Clearly didn’t know you well enough to be moving in with you.”

Melissa nods as she wipes her lips with a napkin, “no, she clearly did not.”

The pause of your chewing only lasts a brief moment before you look up, “her loss.” There’s no hiding the blush that covers Melissa’s face.

Through lunch, and the subsequent walk to finish the never ending conversation, neither of you really want to leave the other. Every topic carries to another, nearly twelve years apart coming undone the closer you sit. You fumble through inviting her over, with the mention of thinking you have the ingredients for sours, as if you hadn’t bought everything the night before.

Late into the night, with the TV low and Bosco curled in his bed, you rest against the arm of the couch. Melissa keeps her legs tucked to her chest, chin resting on her knees as her eyes struggle to focus on the screen. Sitting here with you, it’s so hard to not want to be held by you, it feels almost second nature. The churning in her mind makes her entirely unaware of the attention on her.

Shifting, you rest your back against the arm, putting one foot down on the floor. A socked foot pokes Melissa, making her jump slightly. Prehnite eyes flick towards you, quickly scanning over your position. She bites her inner cheek, eyes meeting yours in silent question. The answer she receives is a weak attempt to reach for her, too lazy to say anything.

Lightning quick, Melissa lays on top of you, taking her place in the warmth of your neck. Your arms wrap around her snuggly, holding her as if she would disappear. She feels your nose nudge her hair, a little movement against her forehead feels like a smile, one that matches her own. Gently, with a butterfly's touch, Melissa pressing a short kiss to the column of your throat before resting again.

She loves you. She does, she does, she can.

i’ve got a doctorate in projecting

if you’re looking for a longer form of a similar concept then please, if u haven’t, read the entwined series by @lot-of-nothing it is INCREDIBLE i’m speechless

feedback appreciated as always <3

#melissa schemmenti x reader #melissa schemmenti #lisa ann walter #abbott elementary #lgbtq fanfiction #lesbian #lgbtq

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bull-shit-suji · 2 months

Text

kuro modern au stuff that i word vomited into my notes app

kind of a Vincent summoned sebastian to save ciel so ciel doesnt actually owe sebas anything

amnesia? idk

single dad moment! except theres this other dad whos kinda find.. (cough agni)

i think vincent was like do NOT let ciel know ur a demon so sebastian keeps it a secret but he doesnt have a good handle on like. Humans. so he kinda does a bad job and ciel definitely knows that he's weird but doesnt say anything. will go out of his way to gaslight you when sebastian does weird shit because he thinks its funny

"hey uhh is your dad levitating?"

"no?"

"he's flying above the school rn"

"that's a bird"

u think suddenly being a butler is hard? have fun being a dad bitch

alois is there but thats complicated. claude and hannah are DIVORCED but on decent terms (i think claude is like. toxic alpha male podcast type guy) and claude sees alois on alternating weekends!

are they demons? i dont know

i think ciel and alois can be friends. platonically. alois would probably say yes if ciel wanted to be romantic but i Promise you he does not. they are just pals :)

im saying ciel has a crush on elizabeth because i can (she's not his cousin here). emo boy x sunny church girl. said sunny church girl has to ask the mcdonalds employees for the blue raspberry slushie they forgot to put in ciel's order because emo boy is too scared.

IM 13 EVERYTHING SUCKSSSSS

grelle is actually living her best life transitioned with anne so they are ciel's aunts on his late mom's side. i think grelle likes ciel. mom figure moreso than anne is.

ciel owns four bongs and definitely a vape or two. come on now

he's also probably got celiac and is lactose intolerant he is just a feeble boy i think

he listens to twenty one pilots. sorry! sorry.

ciel is goth alois is punk those r kinda just the rules

ciel is insanely smart top of the class this shit is easy for him.

yells at sebastian daily. figured out what happened with his real parents around the age of uhhhh 12 or 13? has been an absolute terror ever since

"it was really nice of your dad to bring cookies for the field trip!"

"i hope he fucking chokes on one"

"oh!"

sebastian and claude are pta rivals.

"is this lemon bread store bought? my, how... efficient!"

"you made these from scratch? i can tell."

"i've never seen an interesting looking salsa! very exciting."

ciel purposefully invites alois over constantly bcus it pisses sebas off. alois is Terrified of that man.

"go grab the chips from the kitchen"

"but... what if mr michaelis is in there?"

"mr m- you mean my dad? tell him he can shove a faucet up his ass"

"id rather die on the spot"

sebastian will yell at ciel and is maybe a little emotionally unavailable but he's trying!!! it's hard :(

does that Dad thing where he comes into ciels room and is like hey bud......... what r u up to..

ciel and seiglinde r also palls. the smartest people in school

lizzie is a JOCK. she plays softball.

alois is a theater kid come on now

ciel is best at writing and literature analysis, specifically fiction. enjoys history, language, and Some sciences as well.

nerd

au where myspace is still a thing ciel has a myspace account

he definitely writes shitty poetry

wants to major in business

alois is a glee and pitch perfect truther

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midnight-in-town · 10 months

Text

Frances Midford : The Mentor, a summary

To follow with my post about fighting against misinformation, here’s a first topic.

Ciel’s remaining aunt is often viewed by the fandom as a mean lady who doesn’t care, because of a) all the mysteries around the family that Ciel doesn’t know about and b) the use of comic relief in Kuroshitsuji often used to hide some relevant clues, as previously demonstrated in this post. This is actually far from what her character really is about and I intend to demonstrate it now with a (long) recap post.

I have talked about Frances a lot in the past, about her caring about our!Ciel and about her possibly knowing, like Tanaka, that he was lying about his identity. While the former is undeniably true, the latter is still up for debate. [X][X][X][X] However, with the upcoming adaptation of the Weston arc (probably) in 2024, I don’t want the old discourse to come back, so without further ado...

What Yana has said about Frances’ character

Besides our!Ciel, Frances is the last remaining Phantomhive (not counting real!Ciel as a BD). She’s Vincent’s younger sister, they both have the same parents (that is to say Claudia P and Cedric K. Ros) and she married out of the family (implying that maybe the Phantomhives have distant relatives still alive), becoming Lady Midford.

According to Yana, Frances takes after their dad while Vincent takes after their mom and the same is true for her kids, meaning Ed takes after her (thus takes after his maternal grandfather) while Liz takes after Alexis.

As far as her relationship with our!Ciel is concerned, here’s what Yana said in the guidebook : “Frances' strength of character is why Sebastian chose her as a role model Ciel should follow”. Since her relationship with Lizzie is sometimes also viewed negatively, I’d like to add that both in the guidebook and on twitter, Yana said that “Liz thinks her mom is kind and strong so she looks up to her mom as a role model she aspires to become”, hence the similar hair style.

TL;DR Yana’s overall description of Frances is that a) she’s kind and strong which is why b) she’s Lizzie’s role model, as well as the role model Sebastian thinks our!Ciel should follow.

Now that this is established, here’s what the canon story gives us, to illustrate Yana’s words. Spoilers for the entire manga series and long read below the cut.

Frances’ introduction

Frances is introduced in ch14 and, boy, what a generally misunderstood chapter by some parts of the fandom. xDD

Contextually, ch14 is Ciel’s birthday, meaning it is also the anniversary of the massacre of the previous household and Madam Red just died, after trying to kill him. For those who might wonder, the guidebook confirmed that our!Ciel was quite saddened by Ann’s death (obviously), so really, what a fun 13th birthday in perspective. Cue Liz and Frances.

The comments on her strength aside, Frances’ introduction is otherwise often misread as her nagging being inappropriate but I beg to differ. As mentioned by @akumadeenglish and @chibimyumi, Yana is Japanese author who likes to explore writing tropes in depth. Though it’s also important to remember that, before the curry arc, Yana didn’t know how long the series would run so everything had less intent, because the story was initially supposed to end quickly.

In other words, Frances’ introduction really is initially to be read as the severe mother-in-law (based on Japanese comical stereotypes) coming to check on how he handles his household, which is why Seb is so stressed out when everything goes bonkers. But that’s only the surface.

Most importantly though, Frances showed up because it is Ciel’s birthday and, as said above, there’s a lot of negative and dreadful memories associated with this day. So...

...let’s change his mind, shall we?

Phantomhives love games and Frances is a Phantomhive too, the last one besides our!Ciel, so she knows her nephew and chooses an activity she knew he wouldn’t be able to resist.

Ch14 also introduces two important facts that are still relevant as plot points, especially as far as the Blue Revenge arc is concerned. The first one is that our!Ciel protected Lizzie from that bear, so Frances said she owes him.

Secondly, as stated by Frances herself, she knows the ropes of the “game” (aka acting as the Watchdog) better than our!Ciel (”you’ve still got a decade to go before you can even think of winning against me”).

In fact, like our!Ciel with real!Ciel, Frances was probably raised as Vincent’s spare [X][X], but compared to our!Ciel who knew next to nothing about his father’s real job until 3 years ago (at the time of ch14), Frances is an experienced veteran...

And that’s why Seb chose her as a role model for our!Ciel.

Therefore it is my opinion that ch14, despite being written back when Sensei didn’t know how long the series would be published, is still relevant as heck when it comes to Frances’ role in the series, aka acting as a mentor for our!Ciel (and for Lizzie, as Yana also stated). Kuroshitsuji is a slow story though, with a lot of build up and it’s why some fans still fail to see how significant Frances is to the plot and to our!Ciel’s development.

Campania arc

Liz is the one who comes to ask our!Ciel to come with her whole family (thus introducing Alexis and Edward) on a cruise, but it’s also very important to note that she conveyed that Frances thought that our!Ciel should take time off of work:

This led some of us fans to theorize that maybe Tanaka used to send updates to Frances about our!Ciel’s wellbeing and how he fared as the Watchdog: the timing of the cruise works well with Frances’ remark, considering that the Queen just sent Charles Grey as a merry punishment for Ciel’s deeds during the Circus arc.

This arc mostly highlights Frances’ bravery and strength : she didn’t hesitate to fight for countless of passengers unrelated to her (something that UT said isn’t very typical of Phantomhives, during Weston)...

More importantly, we finally get into Lizzie’s personal motivations and we indeed have the confirmation that...

...Frances is a big key to Lizzie’s strength, confirming the role model/mentor position that she holds in Lizzie’s eyes. I’d like to also point out that Frances completely trusts in her daughter’s abilities, which highlights a very positive mother/daughter dynamic.

Lizzie’s flashback gives us this very important bit...

...a part that’s unfortunately often overlooked by the fans complaining that Frances is too severe with our!Ciel and Lizzie. This scene however makes way more sense once we find out, after the Weston arc, that Frances lost her mother Claudia (the Watchdog before Vincent) when she was probably about 12 or 13 years old (Vincent being 15 years old then).

To me, this is a big explanation as to why Frances is as serious about training as she is:

Indeed, she lost at least her mom (and later her brother) so, since her daughter is betrothed to the future Watchdog, she wants Liz to be strong enough to survive. All I see in the former panel is a mother saddened by the burden on her child’s shoulder and desperate to imagine that she will be exposed to a lot of danger as an adult.

Side point there, but it’s likely there’s a very relevant reason Frances’ only daughter was betrothed to Vincent’s heir when they were young kids. We’ll dive into it later, but I believe the answer is tied to the Phantomhive lineage introduced in ch103.

Lastly, our!Ciel’s flashback also gave us another important bit to explore...

...which is that our!Ciel directly applies what Frances once told him to his current path for revenge:

Also note the allusion again to Vincent “losing the game”, creating a parallel with Frances telling our!Ciel in ch14 that “he still has a decade to go before he can even think of winning against her”, because he has a lot to learn from her, especially since even he admits that he knows next to nothing about his own family.

The previous spare teaching the spare. How fitting. :D

Weston arc

Even if Frances only appears in this arc during the cricket game, I think there is a lot to be deduced from it. First, I’ve said it long ago and I’ll say it again: I strongly believe Frances played a part into Vincent’s victory during the first blue miracle.

Mind you, Tanaka basically confirmed that Vincent cheated to win (since he knew what Seb and Ciel were up to) and I could totally see Vincent asking his strong little sister to crossdress in order to destroy the Green team. xDD Besides, she certainly seems uneasy whenever the topic is brought up and she also wasn’t fooled by Ciel’s act when he won, haha!

This is silly, but this shows (imo) that Frances and Vincent had a good sibling dynamic, with Frances supporting her brother as the Watchdog as much as she could, which is heartwarming because this means Frances would have no reason not to support her brother’s sons after his death.

Tanaka (who, according to Yana, was already in the household taking care of Vincent and Frances as children) and Frances happily dancing together at the end of the tournament also confirms this. Vincent and Frances having a strong sibling bond would also explain why, despite Claudia’s death, Frances would agree to the betrothal between Lizzie and Vincent’s heir (and would keep it that way, even after Vincent’s death).

All that to say, I’m sure the cricket game confirmed to Frances how similar our!Ciel is to Vincent on some aspects (the second blue miracle attests to that), which probably makes him somewhat predictable (and reassuring?) to her.

One thing that I also believe is important is Ed’s mini flashback during the game. On this topic, Yana has said that she couldn’t draw his backstory in detail, so she’ll probably expand on that in the future, which makes me think that there is some foreshadowing in there.

TBH I think it’s ironic that Ed would consider himself as “ordinary”, considering the whole lineage thing introduced one arc later. xDD But also, if we consider that the tale of Vincent’s first blue miracle is supposed to hint that Vincent and Frances were close as siblings, it’s nice that Ed, who takes after his mom the most, would also have his own flashback about loving and looking up to his sister a lot, despite his small inferiority complex. Considering that Liz sees their mom as her role model though, I guess that means Ed also sees his mom as a role model (though the Campania arc already made that pretty clear).

During the Weston arc, Frances also managed to surprise Sebastian, both by recognizing him (lol) and by stopping him despite his intent to leave, which is, according to the demon himself, no small feat:

Like the usual nagging she does towards Seb though, it’s played for laugh, but as introduced in this post, I believe overused comic relief is a way to foreshadow some hints and we’ll dive into it with the next arc.

Last but not least, during this arc UT commented that our!Ciel was different from his ancestors when he willingly put himself in danger to save Joanne...

...but as presented during the Campania arc, it seems it’s a trait he shares at least with his aunt, furthering the parallels between them and the fact that she would definitely make a good mentor for our!Ciel, because they’re quite alike and can probably understand each other.

Green Witch arc

The only relevant part of this arc with Frances’ character is the introduction of a special lineage in the Phantomhive family by German Shinigamis...

...something that might explain why our!Ciel was able to notice them, when even Seb didn’t. So this begs the question: who else in his family shares this lineage? And obviously, Frances and her kids might !

My personal opinion is that the lineage thing is old and is probably why the Phantomhive family became the Watchdogs, many generations ago. But also, if our!Ciel can notice Shinigamis thanks to it, could it explain why Frances was able to detect and catch Seb during opening ceremony before the cricket game at Weston? And why she always nags him about his appearance (both hair and face)? That remains to be confirmed, but...

...at the very least Bravat in the recent arc confirmed that some gifted people like himself can “sense” that demons are different. Just like animals [x][x], apparently. Bravat is irrelevant besides being a small scale villain though, so I take it as a hint for a more plot significant character, such as Frances, whose nagging behavior towards Seb is way too overused as comic relief anyway.

The lineage thing is yet one more family topic on which Frances probably has answers to give to our!Ciel (the only other people who might know about it being Tanaka and UT).

Bonus : if what Vincent said below about strong-willed women in the family line (from a side story “With Father”) is a hint towards the lineage thing...

...then it’s probably why Vincent wanted Lizzie to be betrothed to his heir in the first place and why Frances agreed.

Blue sect & blue revenge arcs

I already mentioned that Bravat’s innate ability to recognize Seb as a demon was a hint that other characters, like Frances, might be able to guess that Seb is a demon as well, so moving on to ch151 :

This chapter confirms that UT has known Frances since she was very young (which is a hint to the UT = Cedric theory of course), which also explains why, knowing about her strength, UT went on with the whole BD massacre on the Campania despite the presence of our!Ciel and the Midfords on board.

Also, while this chapter neither confirms nor denies if Frances knew about our!Ciel lying about his identity (like Tanaka and UT did), she didn’t show anger nor disbelief about the situation, just her incomprehension.

More than anything, this chapter strongly hints that our!Ciel will at some point seek his aunt for a talk before the final confrontation with UT and real!Ciel, because both are seeking answers to their different questions (our!Ciel needs to find out about UT & his grandmother and the lineage thing, while Frances will want to know what’s the deal between the twins). Speaking of which, a talk between Lizzie and Frances is probably also in order, before Lizzie can choose our!Ciel’s side again.

Lastly, ch151 hinted that Frances doesn’t fully believe that real!Ciel’s return is “natural”...

...and, i mean, why would she? She faced the Bizarre Dolls on the Campania and, for all we know, Edward told her how the Weston arc ended so ¯\_(ツ)_/¯ considering that UT has been involved every time, the Midfords probably aren’t far from connecting the dots about real!Ciel being already dead.

To sum up !

Outside of the narrative, Yana said that Frances was Lizzie’s role model and that Seb also wanted her to be the model our!Ciel should follow. And, in my opinion, the entire series so far (as I tried to present in this post) is slowly building up to that because :

our!Ciel and Frances are very similar: both the spares & both survived their parents’ and brothers’ death

both saved folks unrelated to them despite being Phantomhives, meaning that they are a bit alike and can understand each other

our!Ciel literally built his path of revenge following the advice Frances told him about how to counterattack an opponent

Again, to understand who targeted his family, our!Ciel needs to find out about his grandmother, about the lineage and about why his dad had to be killed amongst other things. The only people who can answer him are UT, Tanaka and Frances.

I believe UT and Tanaka are more connected to Claudia, but also both are by real!Ciel’s side for now, making them less accessible for a talk. This leaves Frances for the time being and, as Vincent’s sister and Claudia’s daughter, it seems appropriate that answers would be coming from her.

Also, in shonen series, usually the hero(es) have a mentor figure who will help them “unlock their potential” through training. Kuroshitsuji is not your usual shonen and I doubt our!Ciel can become better at fighting lmao, but Frances can certainly help him better appreciate the massive scale he’s bound to face when seeking his revenge. Especially if it all goes back to events from 3 generations ago and a worldbuilding full of supernatural elements, as well as a world war he doesn’t entirely comprehend yet.

Frances acting as a mentor/role model for her own kids also foreshadows that they’ll follow our!Ciel on his journey and, like him, they’ll definitely need her wisdom/knowledge to be able to reach the necessary level for survival by his side.

As to when all that is going to happen, well, I’d say Frances will probably take on a more active role in the plot when, to quote Seb in ch14, "[our!Ciel] will overconfidently believe that he cannot lose and that it will be necessary for him to carry himself with humility while striving for his goal". Because by then, "an adult who will be firm with him is what he'll need".

If that doesn’t foreshadow the current conflict between the twins, I don’t know what does. xD

Thanks for reading!! As always, let me know if I’ve forgotten anything !

#kuroshitsuji #frances midford #ciel phantomhive #sebastian michaelis #tanaka #undertaker #elizabeth midford #edward midford #2CT #vincent phantomhive #phantomhive dynamics #claudia phantomhive #yana toboso #kuroshitsuji theory #my analysis #as of:#kuro202

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lands-of-fantasy · 1 year

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Pride and Prejudice

Classic and loose adaptions from 1940, 1967, 1980, 1995, 2003, 2004, 2005, 2012, 2016, 2018, 2019

The second of Jane Austen’s novels, first published in 1813, is the most often adapted, inspiring various different takes on it. The ones pictures above are detailed below:

Pride and Prejudice (1940 Film)

This black and white film departs from the original novel in some (or should I say many?) points

Written by Aldous Huxley and Jane Murfin, adapted from the stage adaptation by Helen Jerome; directed by Robert Z. Leonard

Starring Greer Garson as Elizabeth Bennet, Laurence Olivier as Mr. Fitzwilliam Darcy, Edward Ashley Cooper as George Wickham, Maureen O'Sullivan as Jane Bennet, Bruce Lester as Mr. Charles Bingley, Ann Rutherford as Lydia Bennet, Melville Cooper as Mr. William Collins, among others.

Pride and Prejudice (1967 Miniseries)

6 episodes x 24min. Black and White footage Written by Nemone Lethbridge, directed by Joan Craft

Starring Celia Bannerman as Elizabeth Bennet, Lewis Fiander as Mr. Fitzwilliam Darcy, Richard Hampton as George Wickham, Polly Adams as Jane Bennet, David Savile as Mr. Charles Bingley, Lucy Fleming as Lydia Bennet, Julian Curry as Mr. William Collins, among others.

Pride and Prejudice (1980 Miniseries)

5 episodes x 54 min Written by Fay Weldon, directed by Cyril Coke

Starring Elizabeth Garvie as Elizabeth Bennet, David Rintoul as Mr. Fitzwilliam Darcy, Peter Settelen as George Wickham, Sabina Franklyn as Jane Bennet, Osmund Bullock as Mr. Charles Bingley, Natalie Ogle as Lydia Bennet, Malcolm Rennie as Mr. William Collins, among others.

Pride and Prejudice (1995 Miniseries)

6 episodes x 54 min Written by Andrew Davies, directed by Simon Langton

Starring Jennifer Ehle as Elizabeth Bennet, Colin Firth as Mr. Fitzwilliam Darcy, Adrian Lukis as George Wickham, Susannah Harker as Jane Bennet, Crispin Bonham-Carter as Mr. Charles Bingley, Julia Sawalha as Lydia Bennet, David Bamber as Mr. William Collins, among others.

Pride and Prejudice (2003 Indie Film)

Loose adaption set in modern Utah, USA Written by Anne Black, Jason Faller, Katherine Swigert; directed by Andrew Black

Starring Kam Heskin as Elizabeth Bennet, Orlando Seale as Will Darcy, Henry Maguire as Jack Wickham, Lucila Sola as Jane Vasquez, Ben Gourley as Charles Bingley, Kelly Stables as Lydia Meryton, Hubbel Palmer as William Collins, among others.

Bride and Prejudice (2004 Film)

Bollywood-style Musical. Loose adaption set in modern India and England. Written by Paul Mayeda Berges, Gurinder Chadha; directed by Gurinder Chadha

Starring Aishwarya Rai as Lalita Bakshi (Elizabeth), Martin Henderson as William "Will" Darcy, Daniel Gillies as Johnny Wickham, Namrata Shirodkar as Jaya Bakshi (Jane), Naveen Andrews as Mr Balraj Uppal (Bingley), Peeya Rai Chowdhary as Lakhi Bakshi (Lydia), Nitin Ganatra as Kohli Saab (Collins), among others.

Pride and Prejudice (2005 Film)

Written by Deborah Moggach, directed by Joe Wright

Starring Keira Knightley as Elizabeth Bennet, Matthew Macfadyen as Mr. Fitzwilliam Darcy, Rupert Friend as George Wickham, Rosamund Pike as Jane Bennet, Simon Woods as Mr. Charles Bingley, Jena Malone as Lydia Bennet, Claudie Blakley as Charlotte Lucas, Tom Hollander as Mr. Collins, Donald Sutherland as Mr. Bennet, Judi Dench as Lady Catherine de Bourgh, among others.

The Lizzie Bennet Diaries (2012–13 Webseries)

160 episodes x 2-8 min, available on Youtube Loose adaption set in modern US, told in a vlog format

Created by Hank Green and Bernie Su, from Pemberley Digital

Starring Ashley Clements as Elizabeth Bennet, Daniel Vincent Gordh as William Darcy, Wes Aderhold as George Wickham, Laura Spencer as Jane Bennet, Christopher Sean as Bing Lee, Mary Kate Wiles as Lydia Bennet, Julia Cho as Charlotte Lu, Maxwell Glick as Ricky Collins, among others.

Lizzie’s videos amount to 100 episodes + 10 Q&A, but shorter series enrich the story by offering other characters’ perspectives, most notably Lydia’s (and also Georgiana’s). A playlist at Pemberley Digital’s Youtube channel features them all in order.

The series has also been adapted into a book, The Secret Diary of Lizzie Bennet (2014), and spawned a sequel novel, The Epic Adventures of Lydia Bennet (2015).

Pride and Prejudice and Zombies (2016 Film)

Loose adaption inspired by the 2009 novel of the same name by Seth Grahame-Smith, which adds zombies to Austen’s original story. The movie makes alterations from the zombie book as well.

Written and directed by Burr Steers

Starring Lily James as Elizabeth Bennet, Sam Riley as Colonel Fitzwilliam Darcy, Jack Huston as George Wickham, Bella Heathcote as Jane Bennet, Douglas Booth as Mr. Charles Bingley, Ellie Bamber as Lydia Bennet, Matt Smith as Parson William Collins, among others.

Orgulho e Paixão (Pride and Passion) (2018 Telenovela)

Brazilian telenovela in Brazilian-Portuguese

162 episodes x 30-40min (original version) Loose adaption set in 1910s São Paulo state, Brazil

Created by Marcos Bernstein, directed by Fred Mayrink

Starring Nathalia Dill as Elisabeta Benetido, Thiago Lacerda as Sr. Darcy Williamson, Pâmela Tomé as Jane Benedito, Maurício Destri as Camilo Bittencourt (Bingley), Bruna Giphao as Lídia Benedito, Bruno Gissoni as Diogo Uirapuru (Wickham/Willoughby), among others.

The story takes inspiration from all 6 of Austen’s major novels (plus Lady Susan), but mostly from Pride and Prejudice. Others stars include Chandelly Braz as Mariana Benedito (Marianne Dashwood) and Anajú Dorigon as Cecília Benedito (Catherine Morland).

Features 100 episodes in the International cut. The telenovela has been broadcast in other countries and languages (such as Spanish) but as far as I know, not in English.

Pride and Prejudice: Atlanta (2019 TV Film)

Loose adaption set in modern Atlanta, USA. All-black cast. Written by Tracy McMillan, directed by Rhonda Baraka

Starring Tiffany Hines as Elizabeth Bennet, Juan Antonio as Will Darcy, Raney Branch as Jane Bennet, Brad James as Charles Bingley, Reginae Carter as Lydia Bennet, Carl Anthony Payne as Rev. Collins, among others.

*****

Personal favorites: 2005, then 1995. But also: The Lizzie Bennet Diaries, Orgulho e Paixão

I also enjoyed Atlanta and, while it’s been a while since I’ve seen Bride and Prejudice, it’s got Indian musical numbers so c’mon, one gotta watch it.

Back to the closer adaptions, despite its age, 1980 is also good! 1940 is...very different, but fun in its own way.

In fact, while I find some of these versions weaker, I could find enjoyment in all of them - but maybe that’s cause I’m a sucker for P&P.

#pride and prejudice #elizabeth bennet #fitzwilliam darcy #pride and prejudice 2005 #pride and prejudice 95 #orgulho e paixão #period drama #the lizzie bennet diaries #jane austen adaptations #pride and prejudice atlanta #bride and prejudice #pride and prejudice and zombies #jane bennet #charles bingley #lydia bennet #mr darcy #mr bingley #I'll post about the other novels later #pep2005

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sketchy-rosewitch · 9 months

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Maybe There’s a God Above: Priest!Bo Sinclair x nun!reader

Warnings: Manipulation, PinV, fingering, eating out, Catholicism, sex between a priest and nun, whatever all of those blasphemy words are and stuff.

A/N: ooooo I liked doing this one!!!

Day 5 of Haunted Hoedown

Hoedown Masterlist

Previous: Malfunction: Captain Denninger x afab!gn!android!reader

Next: Moonlight Madness: Bo x Gn!werewolf!afab!reader x Vincent

“Are you almost done?”

You look up from the blanket you are knitting and stare at Sister Jane.

“For today yes, I should be done tomorrow though.” You explain. You had been working on this blanket for weeks to give to a homeless shelter a few miles into the city. Everyone else had already finished theirs but yours took you a bit longer as you were new at this. Normally you’d never be put on duty for this but after Sister Anne had retired you were bumped up a spot.

“Okay, just reminding you that Father Bo needs to speak with you. Then you need to wash up for dinner.” Sister Jane says before leaving the room. You nod your head and set down all of your stuff before making your way down the corridors and across the church to Father Bo’s office. Honestly you wonder what he could want from you. You’d wondered it all morning when he came in during breakfast asking.

Father Bo made you nervous, you didn’t really know why. Well, you acted like you didn’t know why. You knew and God knew why and it was because you fantasized about being with him, about him kissing you and treating you so well and it really wasn’t your fault. He was handsome. More than handsome!

Honestly you felt like God was testing you.

Father Bo sits at his desk writing when you come in meekly. The door was already open so you give the frame a small knock making him look up from his paper. He smiles and your knees almost buckle. Father Bo stands up and walks around his desk, leaning on the edge of it. His arms cross.

“Evenin’, I just wanted to check in on you Sister. You seem to have avoided confession for the last few weeks. I’m hoping you’re doin’ alright. Was also wonderin’ why that is.”

You frown and look down so full of shame. You avoided it because you wanted to avoid him. He couldn’t tell or judge a soul when it came to confessions. But telling the source about your feelings towards him made you feel even dirtier than having the feelings.

“Hey, there’s no shame. I’m just concerned is all.”

Father Bo’s voice is gentle, it lures you in like a siren lures in a sailor.

“Just haven’t been feelin’ myself Father. I thought I could just tell God about it this time.”

What level of Hell does someone get sent to for lying to a priest?

“Ah, okay. Well you’ve been dealin’ with it for a long time. So, why don’t you come confess tonight. I’m sure it’ll take some weight off your shoulders.”

You let out a breath and close your eyes. “..Okay. I will Father. Before bed.”

“Sounds good. Now why don’t we head to dinner.”

You turn around and Father Bo follows after you. You feel his hand on your shoulder as the two of you walk towards the dinning hall. Your chest hurts and you keep looking at his large hands. Then you watch as it disappears and goes to your backside when you enter the hall.

It’s almost silent, just small whispers and talking about the next Mass and charity events that are coming up.

You sit in your seat seeing as a plate was already set for you and watch as Father Bo goes into the kitchen to get his food. You look down and begin eating quickly, your chest hurting from how fast you’re swallowing you food. You sip on your water and feel as those all of your Sisters are staring at you. But when you look up, they aren’t.

Sister Jane nudges you lightly. “What did he need to talk to you about?” She whispers, you turn towards her and frown.

“I hadn’t been going to confession the last few weeks. He’s askin’ me to go tonight. Said it’ll help lift a weight off my shoulder.” You explain, she nods her head.

“He’s right, you should. I’m not gonna ask why you haven’t been goin’ but k think you should. You seem to be too lost in thought recently and I know it ain’t cause of God.”

You nod your head in agreement and she rubs your shoulder before getting up and grabbing her plate along with the other sisters’ plates in her row. You eat in absolute silence after that.

The halls are silent as you walk down them. Your mind is racing on how you’d even confront the situation.

You could confess everything but your crush on Father Bo. But what if he catches on? No he wouldn’t, he can’t pressure you to confess, can he?

The chapel is dark other than a few candles lit up near the alter and the confessional booth. Father Bo comes out from the door, he looks at you and smiles genuinely.

“Come in.”

Father Bo opens the door for you, you go in and sit in one of the chairs. The priest goes behind the curtain and sits, your hands come together in prayer. He holds a rosary.

“In the name of The Father, The Son, and The Holy Spirit.”

You mimic the silhouette of Bo and do the sign of the cross.

“Whenever you’re ready.” He says, you nod your head, not knowing whether he can see you in the lamp’s light or not.

“Forgive me Father for I have sinned. My last confession was uh…” You think for a second, how long had it been? “6 weeks ago.” You whisper. Oh this was bad, how did you even become a nun in the first place. You’re horrible. Horrible. Horrible.

“Sister?”

You look up. “Sorry, I’d like to ask for forgiveness for not going to confession, for-for staying up late, unable to sleep and for developing feelings for someone when I know I cannot marry.” You let out a shaky breath and lean into your folded hands. “This is all I can remember. I am sorry for these and all of my sins.” A small sob escapes your throat.

“I ask you do three Hail Mary’s and that you come to my office tomorrow to help me with some things.” Bo says. You nod your head.

You whisper The Act of Contrition and afterwards Bo says the prayer of Absolution to you. You two make the sign of the cross and head out of the booth.

“12 pm tomorrow.”

You nod and sniffle. He gives you a half smile.

“It’s okay, you’ve been forgiven.”

Just like the day before, you knock lightly on the frame of the door to alert Bo.

“Afternoon, go ahead and shut the door.”

You nod and do as you’re told, stepping into the room and shutting the door quietly behind you.

“Bring that bench over here.” He points. You furrow your eyebrows but again, you listen. You drag the bench to the middle of the room wondering why he wants you to do this.

You stand up straight and Father Bo is directly behind you making you yelp when he speaks. “I’d like to ask you who these feelin’s you developed are for.”

His voice is raspy, your breath hitches and you close your eyes.

“I cannot say Father.”

“Oh but I think you can.”

You turn and look at him, your eyes reading fear and his eyes clearly eating that fear up. Being obedient you answer. “Y-you.”

He hums. “Good, for your penance I need you to go ahead and take off your panties for me.”

You open your mouth, trying to muster up the words to ask him if this is what God told him to do. But none come to mind.

You reach up your dress and pull them down, they’re slightly soaked and you frown. Father Bo takes them from you and pockets them.

“Lift your dress up and sit.”

You get on the bench and do just that. Father and takes his foot and kicks your legs apart, your hairy mound comes into view, he smirks and kneels. His tongue goes directly to your clit and you arch your back grabbing his hair.

“Father! We-we can’t!” You whine.

“It’s okay, nothing is going in you so it doesn’t count.”

Was that the rule?

Your thoughts scramble as he licks and sucks your clit. His hands keeping your thighs apart. Your thighs still shake and spasm as he finds your favorite spot.

You let out a small moan and listen to the wet noises coming from Father Bo making out with your cunt.

He groans and stops for a second, the bottom of his face is wet with you. “You taste divine.” He says, your face heats up and you look away. “No.” He sticks a thick digit in you and you gasp. “Look at me.”You look down and he’s smirking. “It’s okay because I haven’t stuck my cock in you. We just have to make sure you’re repenting correctly.”

Father Bo curls his fingers, you let out a high pitched moan and goes down again on you, sucking and kissing your clit aggressively.

You feel a cramp in you that you’ve never felt before and let out something between a gargle and whine making Bo work faster. Your thighs sweat and shake, then you fall over the edge. White flashes behind your eyes as you cum. High pitched squeals come from your throat and Bo works you through your orgasm. He pulls out his fingers and licks then clean.

“I need one more thing from you.”

You look at Father Bo hazily, he’s unbuckling his belt and unzipping his black pants.

His large hand gently pushes you back onto the bench. Every holy part of you wants to resist. Unfortunately the lust seems to take over and you allow him to slowly slide into you.

“It’s okay, cause we’re practically saints, at least.. you are.”

You nod and feel how he stretches your pussy out. He leans down and kisses your lips, they taste just like you.

“Father-“

He shushes you. You whine.

“Feel good.” You whisper, he kisses your cheek and slowly pulls out before thrusting back into you.

“That’s good, it’s supposed to. It’s how you know it’s working. This is your penance after all.”

His cock moves in and out of you making both of you groan and moan about how good it feels.

You grab his hand and move it to your breast, he takes no time and gropes it. You lean up and kiss Father Bo’s soft lips. He thrusts harder. “Have you said your-“ he groans “three Hail Mary’s yet?” He asks, grunting and licking your neck. You shake your head.

“Go ahead. Say it and you’ll be forgiven.”

“Hail Mary- Full of… Grace!” You buck up into him feeling the same knot forming in your stomach again. “The Lord is with thee- ah~. Blessed art thou among women and blessed it the fruit of thy Womb, JESUS!” Tears fall down your cheeks as he hits a special spot inside of you.

“Come on, not even done with the first one. Can’t cum until you say all of them.”

“Holy Mary, Mother of God, pray for us sinners, now and at the hour of our death. Amen.”

You whine and buck into him as he slows down, you know he’s about to cum himself.

“Hail Mary Full of Grace the Lord is with thee blessed art thou among women and blessed is the fruit of thy womb Jesus. Holy Mary Mother of God pray for us sinners now and at the hour of our death. Amen.” You slur, your tongue feels like nothing in your mouth. Still you try and say it again one more time, feeling as Father Bo moves his hand between your legs and rubs for clit as he fucks into you.

“Hail Mary Full of Grace.. oh please.. the Lord is with thee blessed art thou among women and blessed is the fruit of thy womb Jesus. Gonna cum, please gather let me cum!” You beg looking right into his beautiful blue eyes. He smiles.

“Just finish it for me.”

“Holy Mary Mother of God, mmgh… pray for us sinners now and at the hour of our death. Amen!”

He thrusts into you a few more times and you cum around his cock. Quickly he pulls out and cums on your mound. The cum laying on your hair.

He kisses you one more time before getting up and adjusting himself. You lay there looking at him. “My-“

“Keepin’ these.” He pats his pocket.

You nod and sit up, your dress falls over your cum soaked cunt and you look at Father Bo.

“I’ll tell you when you come back. Don’t think this is a one time thing.”

“Yes Father.”

You get up and he kisses your head, then makes sure you’re adjusted before you head out the door to do your daily duties.

#bo sinclair #house of wax #house of wax 2005 #brian van holt #bo sinclair x reader #hauntedhoedown

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bucketsofmonsters · 1 year

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The Shapeshifting Detective - Part 7

cw: parental death, grief, referenced murder, allusions to sex work, slow burn, more tags will be added as the story continues

male shapeshifter x fem character

word count: 4k

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6 Part 7 Part 8

Kate had been awake for what she was certain must have been hours, just lying there. Too afraid to break this sliver of peace she’d stumbled upon.

The steady rise and fall of her chest naturally mimicked that of Vincent's as she felt it against her side.

The quiet couldn’t last forever. He shifted away from her with a groan. She couldn’t help but wonder if he’d just awoken or if he’d been basking in the moment like she’d been.

“C’mon,” he said, his voice soft. “We gotta go, just follow me.”

She let him pull her to her feet without protest, following quietly behind, the lingering peace of sleep still blanketing her in a calm that she desperately needed.

As she followed behind him, one hand clasped Vincent’s while the other still carried Anne’s dress, cradling it close to her chest as he led her through the streets.

“Where are we going,” she finally asked, feeling disoriented by his route. She was used to main streets and grand entrances, not the back alleys that she was being pulled through now.

“Somewhere safe,” he said plainly, and as her drowsiness began to fade, the evasiveness of his answer struck her.

She was on alert once again and although the streets weren’t ones she was used to, it didn’t take long before some of them became eerily familiar.

As soon as she realized she stopped in her tracks, staying firmly planted in place as Vincent attempted to tug her onwards. “What do you mean somewhere safe? You said she was dangerous.”

“She won’t hurt you, don’t worry,” he tried to reassure her, but the fact that he’d attempted to hide it overrode the sincerity in his tone.

“I don’t even know what she is!”

“I know, I know. I’m sorry, but I need to find somewhere safe to bring you and Evelyn is one of my only options.”

A few days ago that wouldn’t have been nearly enough to convince her but a few days ago she had a lot more freedom. “Fine, but you have to tell me what she is. No more vagueness and secrets, I want to know.”

“Do you promise you won’t freak out?”

Kate nodded solemnly.

“Alright, well the closest thing you have in human lore is a vampire.”

Kate gasped, her eyes widening as her hands flew to cover her mouth. “She’s a vampire? Hold on, vampires are real?”

“You promised not to freak out, this looks like freaking out.”

Her mind was already darting through the implications. “Wait, so how many of the creatures in folklore are real?”

“I don’t know, most of them. Can we talk about this later?” he asked as he glanced around.

“That’s wild, that’s… you know, in hindsight, I think I should have seen that coming, she fits it perfectly. She isn’t doing much to hide it, is she?”

“No, she most certainly is not. Can we please go now?”

The new information hadn’t done much to soothe Kate but she let Vincent pull her along once more. She’d already decided to trust him, if he said she’d be safe here she knew that it was true.

Or at least that he believed it.

It was much easier to enter Evelyn’s home through a doorway. Not that she would have had the option. She noticed with a twinge of misplaced pride that all the windows that had previously been left open to air out the rooms were now firmly closed and locked.

Vincent walked in ahead of her and she let him take the lead. As eager as she’d been to run into situations head first, this seemed like one where it was wise to stay back.

She heard the clicking of heels and a familiar voice said, “I swear to god if you’re bringing me another unconscious human I am going to…”

Evelyn stopped in her tracks the second she laid eyes on Kate, her expression shifting from that of vague amusement to a distressed sort of fury.

Vincent gave her an apologetic smile. “Well, she’s not unconscious.”

Her eyes flitted back and forth between you, the moment of angry panic fading back to her practiced lazy confidence. “Vincent, I swear to god, you cannot keep doing this.”

“She needed help!”

“Odd, feels like you can’t seem to stop running into people who need help. I don’t know how I seem to keep missing them. Actually, maybe I prefer it this way. You’re getting too trigger-happy lately. At least this one seems like she’s been invited here, although why you’d do such a thing is beyond me.”

“For the record, I am not trigger-happy. The Daniel thing wasn’t even my idea! She’s the one who knocked him out!” he said, gesturing vaguely in Kate’s direction.

That seemed to pique Evelyn’s interest, her gaze shifting for the first real time, to Kate. No longer was she regarding her like a stray dog Vincent had brought, now she was looking as if she was a real person standing before her.

“Did you?” she prompted, looking Kate up and down, making her squirm a little under the unrelenting inspection.

“I needed to. I’ll do whatever it takes.”

That earned a wry chuckle from her. “Well, at least this one’s more interesting than the last one. She’s got more bite to her. Maybe we will get along.”

Kate winced at the word bite. “Is that supposed to be a joke?”

Kate hadn’t thought that Evelyn could get any more irritated with Vincent but in that moment she was genuinely concerned for his wellbeing.

“Now why would she think that’s a joke,” Evelyn asked through gritted teeth.

It was his turn to squirm as she glared at him. “We may have discussed some of your… proclivities.”

Her jaw tightened as she stared Vincent down. “And what else might have you discussed?”

“On the bright side, you don’t need to worry about calling them humans when she walked in. There’s no more game to give away, use all the weird language you’d like.”

Evelyn did not seem to view this as the positive Vincent was attempting to spin it as.

“I am counting the days until you either figure this shit out or give up and frame someone. I can’t even get gray hairs but I swear every time we talk I get closer.”

That perked him up. “About the figuring it out situation…”

Kate cut him off. It was her decision now anyways, he didn’t need to flounder in an attempt to explain. “It’s done, my mother confessed. She hasn’t been arrested yet but it’s only a matter of time.”

“You solved it?” Evelyn asked, giving Kate a once over as she did.

She nodded. “Should’ve done it sooner. It’s my fault it even took as long as it did. But this case will be closed soon, I will make certain of it, do whatever it takes.”

Evelyn raised an eyebrow at her statement. “Whatever it takes, huh?”

Kate nodded, her absolute determination refusing to waver.

Vincent cut in, adding, “Also, everyone might currently think Kate did it so that’s a minor roadblock we need to handle. In related news, I’m just gonna leave her here for a couple hours. Just like… 12 hours. Maybe 14.”

Her attention snapped back towards him, losing whatever interest she’d had in Kate. “Vincent! I have appointments tonight, what am I supposed to do?”

“Postpone them?”

If looks could kill, he would be long gone. “You aren’t doing this. I know you aren’t. What has gotten into you? You said you figured it out! That’s it. It’s done, case closed, just go arrest her. We can all celebrate no longer being murder suspects and you can take Kate along as you clear her name.”

“I have to figure some stuff out first.”

She rubbed her temples. “Vincent, I went along with your stupid little plan to unravel all of this instead of just pinning it on someone, please don’t make me regret it.”

“I won’t. Just give me a few hours, that’s it.”

“14 hours is not a few hours.”

“You’re the best, thanks!” he called back, already heading towards the door as Evelyn continued to scowl at him.

She spent what felt like an eternity just glaring at the door that was slowly swinging closed with a squeak that seemed deafening in the otherwise quiet room.

Finally, with a huff, she turned her attention back to Kate, saying, “I know this isn’t your fault but I think I might blame you anyways.”

Kate managed a weak smile. “Shame, I thought we could both blame Vincent.”

“I might take you up on that when he gets back. He’d rather listen to his human of the week than me anyways.”

Kate wanted to press that statement and learn more about Vincent but it seemed wise to leave that particular topic alone, at least until Evelyn calmed down.

“Who were you going to pin it on?” she asked instead. It took massive amounts of restraint to not tack a ‘was it me?’ onto the end of her question.

“I couldn’t have cared less. You were at the top of the list until Vincent started fawning over you. Your little fiance was a close second.”

“He’s not my fiance. And the motive isn’t there, it wouldn’t have made sense.”

She rolled her eyes. “Doesn’t matter if it makes sense, just matters that it’s not me.”

“Speaking of my non-fiance, where are they? Him and that detective?” Kate asked as she glanced around, looking for any signs of a makeshift prison.

“Blindfolded and handcuffed to a pipe in a closet. They’re very annoying to take care of, I wanted nothing to do with the matter but the alternative was Vincent taking care of them and I wasn’t about to let that happen.”

“Because they would have escaped under his watch or because he would’ve let them go?”

She waved the question off. “One or the other, impossible to know with him. Although those two don’t really seem like his type, especially not after he met you.”

“Oh.” She couldn’t help but wonder what would it have been like if he’d met one of them first. Maybe he would’ve been by Daniel’s side instead. The thought made her feel a little sick, though she couldn’t fully place why. Pushing it aside, she continued on with her neverending questions.

“What appointments are you missing?”

“I’m supposed to be drinking people’s blood, dear. Amongst other things. Why all the questions, are you interested?”

She smiled and Kate couldn’t tell if she was flirting or teasing her. If she had to bet, she’d put her money on both.

“Do you… kill them?” she asked hesitantly.

“God, you’re so dramatic. No, I don’t kill them. You’d be surprised how many people are ready and willing to participate.”

“You get men to willingly sign up to get their blood drunk?”

“Did I say men?”

“Just any old person then?”

She shrugged and gave Kate a knowing smile. Every smile from her felt almost antagonistic. Like it was meant to be a little frightening, an active attempt to make herself as offputting as possible. “I don’t discriminate. Bloods blood, after all, and a humans a human.”

One thing was missing from her menacing smile though. “You don’t have fangs. Don't vampires usually have fangs?”

The question seemed to catch her genuinely off-guard, reeling back a little before regaining her composure and putting on her imposing little performance once more. “I did. They got filed down, it’s standard practice nowadays. Hurts like hell but they say it's better than being so recognizable, that there are less suspicious ways to draw blood. It’s a shame, I wish I still had them. Fuck what the humans think, I can fend for myself.”

“Wouldn’t that just make everything harder? I imagine the clothes do,” she said, looking down at the intense black that even Kate couldn’t match in her funeral garb.

“It does. I don’t give a shit. We’ve hidden for long enough if you ask me.”

Kate couldn’t help but smile at the thought. She’d spent her whole life hiding and lying, not knowing there was any other option. And then these monsters, these creatures of honesty and bravery appeared and it somehow felt more foreign than anything else they ever could have shown her.

It was overwhelming, being faced with people with so much to lose being so much braver than anyone she’d ever seen, than anything she could ever do.

Now when she thought of returning home, back to normalcy, it wasn’t just dread of the inevitable that filled her. There was something else sneaking in, this sense that she would be choosing this, that she could escape the endless lies and the hiding. After all, they did.

Her breathing got shallower and her chest felt tight right under when she was holding Anne’s dress.

Looking down at it, she came to a decision and the tension dissipated. The dread and the grief couldn’t catch up with her if she just kept moving so that's what she’d do.

“I’ll get out of your hair,” she said with the politest smile she was still capable of. “Do you have somewhere I can change?”

“Where ever you’d like, I don’t mind.”

Kate got the distinct impression Evelyn wouldn’t have minded if she started stripping right there and then but still she wandered off until she found an empty room.

It had a bed in the center with some suspicious stains on it that she tried not to think too hard about and dozens of mirrors lining the perimeter of the room. It wasn’t exactly ideal but it would do for the short time she’d be here.

She had absolutely no intention of staying put, but she knew she couldn’t show up as she was. Even now she wasn’t that reckless. But Vincent had unintentionally given her a disguise and she’d be amiss not to use it.

It was a good bet, no one really noticed the servants, especially if she stuck to herself. The hardest part would be getting out without Evelyn stopping her.

Her attempt to get out of her mourning clothes was not going well. She hadn’t noticed how much she was shaking until she was face to face with the buttons and lacing of her dress.

A familiar, looming presence arrived in the doorway.

Kate could feel her gaze even before she turned to meet Evelyn’s eye.

“It’s polite to knock,” she said, not allowing the woman’s presence to stop her from attempting to free herself of the endless black clothing.

She watched, an amused look on her face as she watched Kate struggle to undo her clothes on her own.

“You need help with that?” Evelyn asked, not even attempting to hide her smile.

“I’m fine,” Kate replied with a huff.

“Seems like it.” She watched as shaky fingers struggled to untie a bow for a few moments more before pacing over and swatting Kate’s hands away.

She pushed Kate’s tensed shoulders down and added, “Relax a little, I don’t bite. Well, I do but that’s beside the point.”

Somehow that didn’t add to Kate’s trust in the woman.

She continued on, barely paying any mind to the rising tension of the girl below her fingertips.

“What do you think of him,” she asked as Kate felt the garment loosen.

“I don’t know. He’s one of the kindest people I’ve ever met, I guess. Haven’t had much time to think about anything at all lately.” That wasn’t quite true but she was sure Evelyn didn’t want to hear about the neverending flurry of thoughts that plagued her.

Evelyn guided the dress down her arms, the corset loosening around her a few moments later.

She kept talking as she worked. “That boy has a real bleeding heart. I try and get him to loosen up and have some fun and he brings home a handful of strays with sob stories.”

“Is that what I am?” she asked, trying to get a good look at the woman behind her through the mirrors. “One of his strays?”

“I don’t know. Usually, he moves them along pretty quickly, tries not to get too attached. With you, well, I think it might be too late for that. Good luck getting rid of him now, I certainly haven’t had any luck with it.”

The last remnants of her mourning garb fell to the ground and before Kate could protest that she could take it from here Evelyn was already helping her into Anne’s clothes.

“Are you trying to?”

“Not really. But don’t tell him that, I have to keep up pretenses. I would ruin my brand if people found out I wasn’t a heartless bitch.”

“Don’t worry, I don’t think there’s any danger of that.”

“Be careful. What is it they say about glass houses?”

As Evelyn finished, Kate looked at herself in Anne’s clothes in one of the many mirrors lining the walls, but Evelyn didn’t seem interested in leaving. She hovered just behind Kate, eyes roaming her without so much as a care about Kate’s feelings on being inspected.

Her head cocked to the side as if trying to get a new angle on Kate. “Your mind is elsewhere. What’s going on up there?”

“I need to go back.”

“I know. That’s why you’re getting dressed, isn’t it?”

“Vincent wouldn’t want me to go,” Kate blurted out.

Evelyn looked around the room. “Huh, I had no idea he’d snuck back in here. Making decisions for you before I could even lay eyes on him, how does he do it? Go. Do what you need to do. If he comes back early I’ll handle it.”

“Promise?”

“In regards to you sneaking out? Sure. I make no promises about anything else you might do. I have evidence of how easily you get carried away tied up in the other room, I’m not that foolish.”

“Thank you,” she said, and she wondered if Evelyn could hear her sincerity or if she’d gotten so used to faking it over the years that no one could tell any longer.

Getting home was easy. She lived in this city her whole life, lived there for so long, she could find her way home from anywhere.

It filled her with unease the second she laid eyes on it but the emotion didn’t feel out of place. It had always been there, bottled up with every other emotion.

She managed to make her way past people of various stations as she slipped inside, avoiding eye contact and keeping her head down as much as she could.

She was so set on keeping her head down and out of trouble that she didn’t even see her coming until she heard the faint gasp.

Her head rose to see Anne backing away from her, hands raised in a quiet surrender, like she was a wild animal who could pounce at any moment.

“Kate,” she said quietly. “You shouldn’t be here.”

She hadn’t been certain why she was coming back until this moment, with Anne in front of her. Before it was just the need to keep pushing forward propelling her, sending her back again. But now, staring down the person who’d been her only friend, she knew exactly why she was here. “I needed to come back.”

Anne kept backing slowly away, edging towards the door. “No, you didn’t. There’s nothing left here. Now I know we didn’t leave off on the best terms but you shouldn’t do anything rash.”

“I didn’t… you’re scared of me.” The observation felt like a punch in the gut, all of the air being sucked out of her.

“No, I’m not,” she said too quickly in a voice a little higher than it should’ve been.

“Please don’t do this. I’m still Kate, I’m still…”

But was she? She wasn’t even sure she could recognize the Kate that Anne knew anymore. For so long, that was the closest to honesty she’d gotten, and yet now that girl felt like just as much of a stranger as everyone else did with their own unique set of lies.

“Yeah, of course you are,” she said, in a desperate attempt to placate her.

There was nothing she could do to fix this. Not this version of her, not this person who Anne didn’t know. Kate had pushed her away at just the wrong time and now Anne was scared of her and there was nothing she could do to change that.

Anne finally seemed to decide she’d edged close enough to the door, turning heel and running through the doorway.

A few moments later, a familiar detective walked through the door, presumably retracing Anne’s panicked steps.

Worry creased his brow as he laid eyes on Kate. “What’re you doing here?” he asked, rushing to her side. He pulled her chin up, forcing her eyes to meet his in an attempt to ground her. “You shouldn’t be here. I’ve got this, you’re going to get yourself hurt.”

“No. I… I needed to be here.”

He glanced nervously behind him as he spoke. “Alright, we have bigger problems right now. Is she going to tell someone you’re here? Do we need to run or can you just hide?”

And she didn’t know. She has no idea if her best friend in the world was turning her in as they spoke.

The most she could manage was a shrug and then they were off, Vincent dragging her behind him.

This time there were no arguments as he took her back to Evelyn, shouting, “I told you to keep her here,” as soon as he entered.

Evelyn rolled her eyes. “She wanted to leave, what was I supposed to do, lock her up?’

He was wide-eyed and disheveled, looking more frustrated than Kate had ever seen him before. Evelyn stood as confident as ever.

Kate just let them bicker, Vincent furious and insisting she could’ve been hurt while Evelyn tried to remind him that it wasn’t his choice to make.

“What were you even doing there?” Kate finally asked, cutting off their fighting in an attempt to make sense of as much of this as she could.

“Talking to your mother, trying to get her to recant her statement. To give you an escape route, if you needed one. I think if you let me try for longer, I might be able to-”

“Please stop.”

He shook his head, “No, I really think it’s possible.”

He didn’t get it. She had to make him get it. “And who then? If not her, then who? What innocent soul are we sacrificing if it's not my mother? “

“I don’t know, we’ll figure it out.”

“No, let’s talk about it right now. Maybe Evelyn, what about that? She’s an easy target.”

He looked like a kicked puppy but she couldn’t stop. She needed him to understand. “You’re not being fair…”

“Okay, not her. Blame it on one of the staff then. They had easy access, I’m sure we could come up with a motive. I’ve got an easy one, just say it was Anne. Everyone knows we’re close, it would be an easy sell.”

“Stop it.”

“I can’t. I can’t stop until you understand.” She got more and more frantic the more she spoke. “ It has to be her. She did this. I know she’s my mother and I know you feel for her but I also know that we can’t just leave this be. He’s dead and she did it and that has to be it. I need that to be it.”

“Okay. Yeah, okay, that’s it then.”

“That’s it?” she asked, and she hated how small she sounded.

“That’s it. Your call.”

She expected to have to fight harder but he backed down. He’d been telling the truth, she supposed. It was up to her, her choice to make.

She opened her mouth to thank him but before anything could be said, a knock on the door echoed through the room.

Kate and Vincent turned to look but Evelyn sprung right into action. She manhandled Kate into the closest cupboard, shutting the door after hissing at her to stay absolutely quiet.

She held her breath as she stood in the wooden box that was barely big enough to fit her. The front door swung open and Evelyn alone greeted the people at the door, Vincent off somewhere. Maybe he was hiding in some other equally cramped space.

Her blood ran cold as she heard a few words through the door, muffled talk about warrants making its way to her.

The police were here. If they found her she would be arrested but worse than that, there were two kidnapped people in this house, kidnapped people who knew far too much.

If they found and freed them, that was it. Evelyn would be arrested and what would Vincent even be able to do? Harvey and Daniel would hear tales about all the things they managed to do despite having been kidnapped and they’d all know. Vincent would have to just go, leave the two of them at the mercy of the law, or worse, he’d try something stupid and all three of them would get hurt.

Kate did the only thing she could think of. She took one final, deep breath as she stepped out of the cupboard

“I’m in here,” Kate called, praying she could convince the police that Evelyn had no idea she was hiding here, that at the very least she could protect someone.

It certainly got their attention. Barely a moment had passed before she was being restrained and hauled towards the door.

On her way out she passed Evelyn, giving some sob story to the officer in front of her.

In one fleeting moment of eye contact, as Kate was pulled out, she saw a gleam of acknowledgment in her eyes, a quiet thank you that turned to fear once more before any of the officers even had time to notice.

It was in Evelyn’s hands now. Kate was shoved into the back of a police wagon as she sent a silent ‘good luck’ to the pair she was leaving behind. She had a feeling they’d all need it.

#the shapeshifting detective #terato #monster bf #monster boyfriend #monster x human #shapeshifter #Evelyn my beloved <3 #we’re almost done folks

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the-slasher-files · 8 months

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SLASHER FILES' BLOOD FEST 2022 MASTERLIST

Just wanted to say a huge thank you to everyone who joined in, even if it was just for a week. I appreciate you all and you are all so talented. Thank you... See you in October 2023 🔪🤍

WEEK ONE

Jason in Trick or treat by @morgue-ratt

Micheal Myers - Teeth by @yeyinde

Jason & The Coven by @thrall-of-the-hill-arch

The Huntress - A Mother's Love by @reijniana

Vampire OC - Payment Plan by @thesightstoshowyou

Bo Sinclair x gn reader by @boxxyass

OC x reader by @queendeeshorrorimagines

Grabber - I won't tell by @lucifers-horror-harem

Werewolf x afab reader by @applesontheground

Billy Lenz x reader by @feelin-woozy

Our strange duet by @morvantmortuary

Sacrificial night by @the-slasher-files

WEEK TWO

OC x reader by @queendeeshorrorimagines

Asa Emory in God Complex by @morgue-ratt

Touching in the dark @morvantmortuary

Herbert West x gn reader by @applesontheground

Give in by @the-slasher-files

Heavens night by @lucifers-horror-harem

Sugar and Scarlet by @bisexual-horror-fan

Next by @thesightstoshowyou

Michael and Anne by @thrall-of-the-hill-arch

WEEK THREE

Leslie Vernon x gn reader by @applesontheground

Vincent Sinclair x gn reader by @boxxyass

We match by @bisexual-horror-fan

Glass by @morgue-ratt

WEEK FOUR

OC werewolves x gn reader by @applesontheground

WEEK FIVE

Norman Bates x gn reader by @applesontheground

#THANK YOU TO EVERYONE #blood fest 2022 #SFBF

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silverflameataraxia · 2 years

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Karen is such a badass in season three.

Granted, she's always been a badass, but her in season three...she's just on a whole new level.

#daredevil series #karen page #james wesley #wilson fisk #karen and matt #daredevil show #karedevil #fisk #matt and karen #daredevil #kingpin #matthew murdock #daredevil season 3 #matt murdock #matt x karen #deborah ann woll #vincent d'onofrio

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accidentalslayer · 10 months

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Word Count: 2,530

Warnings: Angst & Abuse. In particular, religious/cult abuse. Death, dying, and trauma after a near-death experience. Dissociative vibes. The end has a really reaffirming, comforting example of friendship. I wish everyone had a Josh in their lives.

Author's Notes: I really struggled on this chapter. Mostly because I've been sick for all of July and only recently started to recover. My spirit was willing to write but my flesh was weak. 🤣 Anyways, I'm still on my Angsty!Davina hype. This chapter delves deeper into that. Oh! By the way, I changed "Vincent Webb" in Chapter One to "William Webb" so as not to confuse everyone because there's already a "Vincent" in The Originals. It'll be William Webb moving forward.

This'll be the last Davina chapter for awhile.

Please feed me comments, hearts, and reblogs if you liked this 🌹You can find me on A03 as accidentalslayer.

Pairing: Yandere!Elijah & Klaus Mikaelson x Fem!Reader (eventually) Summary: Davina gets an unexpected visit from her best friend Josh who has some, erm...concerns about her mental health. Also, life gets weirder for the young Harvest Girl when a truth is revealed. One that could change her life forever.

Recommended Song: "You Were Cool" by: The Mountain Goats

Chapter Three: Jonah's Whale (Part Two)

Cold hands shook Davina. Muffled sounds hit her ears. Someone was shouting, their voice fraught with urgency. It was enough to snatch her out of sleep and snap her eyes open. Peering through a blurred vision still addled by dreams, she looked up at the person who had a vice grip on her arm, then blinked.

It was a boy; dark-haired, dark-skinned, wearing an Abercrombie & Fitch polo shirt underneath a worn hoodie that looked like it'd seen way better days. Fastened around his wrist was a friendship bracelet that Davina immediately recognized as the one she'd made a year ago while living at St. Anne's. The initials 'J.R.' and 'D.C.' embellished its design in bright, rose-colored thread. The letters were joined together like clasped hands inside a heart that she'd gotten a migraine over weaving at the time. Davina was a much better artist with charcoal sticks than with cotton twine, anyways. Despite all the grueling hours of training she had gotten out of the Sanguinem Knot.

Groggily, Davina wondered if she could trust her sight?? Perhaps this was another nightmare or an illusion cast by Monique to trick her? Could it really be...

"J-Josh...?"

"Davina!"

It looked like Josh. It sounded like Josh. It bit its lip nervously like Josh. But Davina needed more proof just to be sure. Illusion magic had its limits. And memories weren't easily replicated. So, she asked the boy something that only the real Josh would know:

"What was my favorite show in 9th grade? If you don't answer it correctly, I swear to the goddess, I'll scream so loud the whole compound will hear it."

"Josh" released hold of Davina's arm, a confused frown upon his lips, "Uhh, that's a trick question, right?? You told me your mom only let you watch TV for "educational" purposes. I was the one who got you into binge-watching stuff for fun. Uhhhh, but hey, Davina, your books are-"

"List the three most embarrassing things you did in grade school. Your Sonic and Winx Club phase doesn't count."

"It SO does."

"Screaming in...three...two...one-"

"Okay!!!" The boy who might be Josh exclaimed, throwing both hands up in the air and conceding to her demands, "I stole a pack of cigarettes out of my homeroom teacher's purse on a dare then puked when I tried smoking too many of them to impress my crush. My mom made me wear this baby bear costume on Halloween and I had to go trick or treating in it. I accidentally sent nudes to my uncle-"

"Josh! It IS you!"

"I mean. Yeah, duh. Why wouldn't it be?? I texted you yesterday about coming over, remember??"

Despite being a vampire with heightened senses, Josh didn't see how fast Davina moved from her seat to pull him into a hug. And he was surprised by how hard she squeezed him, like he was a life raft, or buoy on some stormy sea. Josh took it all in stride, though. He knew Davina well enough to understand that she was going through Hell now that she was back with the Coven. But there was something...off...about her. Different than before. His eyes strayed to the steel table he'd found her crouched over and fast asleep upon. To the book pile she'd been thumbing through...

Every tome on the table was scorched. Strange writing had been scrawled across their pages in Davina's penmanship. Josh didn't recognize the language. The words seemed foreign. Unearthly. Almost alien. But there was one symbol he could decipher amidst the chaos; it was the number 7. It repeated (over and over again) in varying fonts and sizes.

Josh waited for Davina to pull away from the hug before asking if she was okay. Although, judging by the dark circles underneath her eyes, it was a safe bet to assume that she wasn't.

"I'm fine," Davina replied with a smile on her face, "Just passed out while studying these grimoires. They're super old-fashioned. Like, created in the Dark Ages or something. The Coven says they're mandated reading material for us Harvest Girls. But between you and me? I'd rather be studying Grapes of Wrath."

Josh grimaced in response, "Yeesh, that bad?"

"The worst, actually."

"They look, uhhh-"

Josh trailed off, trying to think of the right word to use, but ended up saying the one that was on the tip of his tongue:

"-crispy."

Davina pointedly ignored his comment. Instead, she offered Josh some tea with a tired sigh.

"I'm more into the red stuff these days...but sure. I'll have some if you do." He answered her, trying to keep his voice light and carefree, "Anything in those cabinets that'll help me walk in the sun??"

"Nope. Just peppermint."

"Damn! Foiled again!"

This merited a smirk from Davina. Josh took the win, following his friend across the conservatory, to a small alcove where an electric kettle and tea service was laid out for anyone's use. There was even a convection oven, accompanied by all the fixings for toast. Davina flipped the power button on the kettle. Silently, she watched as it began to heat up and boil their water. Josh tried filling the empty space with conversation.

"So, it looked like you were having a nightmare. A really bad one. Wanna talk about it?"

Davina made no comment besides a quick shrug and a grunt. She seemed more preoccupied with choosing the mugs they'd drink out of. Or the tea they'd make. Undeterred, Josh pressed the issue harder, hoping his friend would open up to him.

"You know," he continued speaking, "they say that telling a friend about your nightmares can help them seem less scary. Like, once you talk about it, you'll see how ridiculous the dream was. Sometimes, I still have nightmares about waking up in class buck naked, and Klaus is there..."

Davina rose an eyebrow, "Who's 'they'??"

An embarrassed laugh rolled out of Josh, cheeks reddening upon admittance that it came from a self-help book he was reading; 'The Dark Side of the Light Chasers' by Debbie Ford. He'd found it laying in a cardboard box on the side of the road somewhere. He'd been going through each of its chapters (sporadically) ever since he'd found it.

"I dunno, the author writes about meditation and meeting all your different selves inside your head like Doctor Strange. I did this one exercise at the end of a chapter about self-love and acceptance and uh, I met the "me" I was before. Before all the fangs and the blood and the suddenly burning in the sun. Fun times, haaa! Anyways, look. I'm here for you, Davina. If you need a shoulder to cry on? An ear to listen to you?? We're friends! And that's what a friend does! Well, uh. I guess that's what I think a friend should do-"

Josh frowned, then said quietly:

"-I haven't really heard a lot from you lately..."

The electric kettle shut off. The water was ready. Davina poured the boiling liquid into two, footed mugs that she had chosen. Then, dipped the tea sachets in with care. The aroma of mint filled the air and the space in-between where Josh waited patiently for Davina to say something. Anything! But she didn't. So, he continued to talk while she listened, hoping that his friend would participate eventually. He was starting to get a bit frustrated by how silent Davina was being.

"You know, there's this story in that book about a person who was also having trouble sleeping. His name was Jonah. That dude from the Bible. He'd heard the voice of God tell him to pass judgment on the city of Nineveh and he reeeally didn't want to. So, he ran. Then, a whale ate him, and literally only spat him up when he accepted what he was running from. I'm not a religious person but what I'm trying to say here is-"

"That I shouldn't go on boating trips?" Davina posited, finally adding to the conversation. She offered Josh his cup of tea afterward.

Josh made a sour face while accepting the tea. He obviously didn't appreciate her wry sense of humor here...

"No! That you shouldn't run away from the things you're afraid of because you'll just make it worse for yourself. And in the end, you'll have to face it anyway. But unlike Jonah, you don't have to face it alone, Davina. I know you're going through shit after dying and being resurrected. Who wouldn't be, right?? But lately, I've been feeling like you're shutting everyone out. You haven't texted me or Cami back in weeks. What's up with that, huh??"

Now, it was Davina's turn to make a sour face.

"I'm just really busy here, Josh. Being a Harvest Girl means I have responsibilities to the Coven."

"You hate the Coven!"

"I know, but...I'm still a Harvest Girl."

"And I'm your friend, Davina! Cami is too! Don't we deserve to at least know that you're okay?!"

"The Coven said I couldn't use my phone here in the compound. They said they want me to focus on studying and classes only. No distractions..."

"And you couldn't sneak on the phone to tell us? We've been worried about you! Cami and I have been worried sick! Fuck the Coven!"

Davina rubbed her temples in response, "Josh..."

"Davina."

"What's really going on?? You're acting weird as hell."

Josh sipped his peppermint tea nervously, then flinched. He'd misjudged how hot it still was and burnt the roof of his mouth in the process. "Mm, this sure is some great leaf juice you've brewed-"

"Josh!" Davina exclaimed, starting to run out of patience, "Enough stalling. Spill. Now. What's up with you?"

With grim reluctance, as if he were pulling teeth, Josh revealed the (true) reason for his visit. It all came down to one name. A name Davina should have guessed was involved from the very start:

"It's Marcel. I-I know you guys aren't on speaking terms right now, but uhh...he's been worried too. About you. About sending you back here. About pretty much everything, to be honest. He wants to know how you're doing? If you're doing okay? Aaaand...he needs your help with a spell."

Davina groaned, "UGH. Of course he does! When does he NOT need me to do his dirty work?!"

"This isn't for him. It's for Cami! The curse on her uncle is getting worse, Davina. He's going nuts in that church of his. Marcel was wondering if there was any way to reverse whatever the Coven put on him? I don't think he has much time left..."

At the mention of the Coven, Davina tensed. She placed her cup down on the alcove's table. There was an air of finality to the gesture.

"Josh, it's different now. I can't do magic for him anymore. I can't do magic for anyone anymore... The Ancestors won't allow me. And if I break the rules again?? They'll do worse things than what they did in that abyss to me. Marcel doesn't care because he's not going to die, Josh!! Neither will you! Father Kieran and Cami are going to Heaven but I only have one place to go after this!! I can't mess up my last chance with the Ancestors...or the Coven. I won't."

Davina expected Josh to argue. Clearly, he had a stake in whatever drama Marcel was cooking up. She could see it in his eyes. A quiet desperation, like a fly caught inside a clever spider's web. Why else would he be doing this? But to her surprise, Josh only nodded. He didn't fight to change her mind.

"I'll tell Marcel you're doing fine," Josh said, "No, scratch that. I'll tell him you're doing better than fine, you're doing awesome! And that...you can't help him anymore."

"Josh, I-"

"Davina, don't."

Soft arms wrapped around Davina unexpectedly and cut short whatever apology she planned on saying. Now, it was Josh's turn to give his friend a sudden hug.

"Don't ever apologize for setting a boundary. You don't owe me or Marcel or the world shit! Okay?? If anything, we owe you. I owe you. You saved me from Klaus. You gave me back my control."

He squeezed Davina tighter in his embrace.

"Promise me that you'll take care of yourself and if you need to talk, that you'll call me. Or text. Or Instagram works, too. I'm always there to listen. You're my best friend, Davina. And the strongest person I've ever met."

"You're pretty strong too, you know?"

Josh chuckled, "I'm starting to be. Couldn't have done it without your help, Super Witch."

The mood lightened. Josh and Davina spent the rest of their time together, reminiscing. Bonding over the good memories they had. Those sacred spaces in-between murderous witches, miracle babies, Machiavellism, and The Originals where they were allowed to just be kids. And do things that kids do. Although Josh's gaze strayed to the pile of scorched books once (or twice), he made no comment on them.

Josh left somewhere around midnight. The smile in her heart left along with him, returning Davina back to reality. She ruminated while she cleaned up the mess leftover from making tea. Images of the nightmare swirled inside her mind. Filled her with dread. She was no stranger to dark dreams or terrible visions, especially after her experience working for Marcel, but this one felt...different. It felt ominous. Like the first scream of a hurricane siren.

Davina...

Or the rumblings of a storm.

Find her, Davina Claire...

As she was shelving the last item away, the floor began to shake, and the walls trembled. Her ears rang with the sound of the voice. Nearly bled. Its volume had increased tenfold since the last time she'd heard it. Davina braced herself against the onslaught, using all her strength to ignore it. But the voice proved too powerful.

She fell upon her knees and shouted, "I CAN'T! I can't help you!! I can't do ANYTHING for anyone anymore!! Don't you understand?!? I am the girl bound in chains! I am shackled to a people who HATE me and control my every move! So, to Hell with New Orleans! Let this city be swallowed up! It's NOT a French Quarter Witch's problem!!"

There came a pause in the quaking and thunder. The stillness that came afterward was thick with tension. It was as if the entity was considering its next words carefully.

You are not a French Quarter Witch, fire maiden. You are a Prophet. Called to a higher purpose. To serve the light that burns within you...

Find her, Davina Claire, and together the two of you shall be free.

"W-wait, what?! I'll be...free?"

No further elaboration was given to Davina. She called out to the entity several times. All she got was silence and stillness in return. Davina stayed in the conservatory, amongst the potted plants, until dawn broke and colored the sky with hues of gentle pink, yellow, orange, and sky blue. And in a semi-stupor, Davina began to repeat a single word underneath her breath...

Free.

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