I have a big google doc thing where I keep track of media and stuff (putting everything in loosely ranked categories), which is mostly just for my own reference so I know what tv shows I've already seen before, etc. and I never really look back through it, typically just a quick "okay, watched two movie in the past 8 months, need to quickly slap them somewhere in the lists. okay. done. save document. exit". But today I was actually reading through some of the old notes and there are like... MULTIPLE places where my comment is basically "It would have been good if it were about elves" or "I wish there was a fantasy show made in this same style" or "It's well made, but I just keep thinking about how I would like it more if everyone was an elf or was in old 1700s costumes" or etc like...... lol.... Most biased media ranking system on earth blatantly made by someone with an extremely hyperspecific range of narrow interests. It'd be like if a food reviewer only had 5 foods they actually liked, so they'd just go to a pizza place and be like "eh, the pizza was okay, but I just think it would be better if it was cereal instead. :/ ...2 out of 10"

the wonder that’s keeping the stars apart

ikemen vampire: temptation through the dark theo van gogh / mc | T | [ ao3 link in bio ]

The challenge seemed pretty simple: to try to befriend the university bookshop's most sour employee, Theo van Gogh. As a literature major with a boatload of book recommendations on her back, it ought to be a simple task indeed. But as she uncovers what lies between Theo's pages, the more she finds it harder to become closer to him without having to put the feeling directly into words. What can she learn from Theo about what it means to stay—and how can she teach Theo about what it means to let go? | written for ikevamp big bang 2020!

[ masterpost for all chapters ]

CHAPTER 2 OF 22

In a small house in the better neighborhood of the university, a young man is beginning to dream. He’s chasing the afterimages of a vision he’d caught, trying to see if he can get it down on paper. It’s scary, but it’s exciting. He’s prepared his materials—the canvas, the pen, the paint—and he’s closed the door, and opened the shutters, letting the morning light flood the studio-cum-library in their small, rented home.

Vincent holds the pen gently, like a prayer, in his hands, before beginning to sketch.

--

The thing with living in such a small university town such as this is that you cannot escape the inevitable.

And by inevitable, that means you know someone who knows someone, and everyone kind of vaguely knows each other in some way or another—through a club, or a shared favorite hang-out spot, or an extracurricular. Everyone is someone’s something by a degree or another.

She’s learned this in her first year at university, but the lesson’s about to be driven a little closer to home today.

She’s seated in the café as usual, annotating a book when Vincent approaches her, a small brownie in hand. It’s not the ones they serve regularly, cut on a smaller bit, and maybe it’s one of the edges or corners in the baking tray. “Can I offer you a little snack?” he asks, offering the plate in front of her.

Looking up at him through round-rimmed glasses, she blinks. “Oh? Thank you, but—what’s this for?” she asks, as Vincent puts the plate down on a free spot on her table. He takes a seat on the free chair next to her.

“Can I ask you a favor?”

Modeling isn’t exactly her forte, but Vincent insists that he doesn’t need a full-blown model for his project—besides, he couldn’t have afforded it, even if he did need one. He’s working on ���something”—by the rumors in the art department, she assumes it’s for his thesis, his capstone project, but who knows?—and he needs a little help on the lighting. He’s working with some tricky fabric, draped down bodies, and he isn’t quite sure how it should come out.

“It’ll only take two hours tops,” he promises, “if you wouldn’t mind. It’s not nude or anything risque, I just need to be able to see how the fabric drapes accordingly to the light. I’ll treat you to dinner afterward?”

Here’s the thing—one does not exactly say no to Vincent. The university town is small enough as it is, and everyone knows Vincent because he’s a legend in the art department. You do not turn down the offer to be painted by a master, or at least that’s how the logic goes. But at the same time, Vincent is always sunflowers and soft smiles, and when he looks at her like that… the only thing that comes out of her mouth is “Of course I will!”

“I’m sorry this is all so sudden,” he says sheepishly. “I just had this idea a bit back, and I’ve been wanting to work on it…”

“No, it’s okay,” she replies instantly. “You’re always reserving my favorite seat for me anyway, and you’ve always been so nice to me. We’re basically friends now, and friends do this for each other, yes?”

Vincent’s eyes glow in a way you’ve never seen before, and it makes you flush a little. “Friends? Of course, yes, thank you so much.”

His shift won’t end in another hour and a half, so he treats her to coffee (“you didn’t have to!” “it’s on me, I swear!”) as she’s waiting for him. She picks up her beautiful, hardbound copy of 1800s English literature, now lovingly highlighted and with many flags at certain pages, and begins to read, scribbling notes on a separate notebook.

By 5:15 Vincent is ready to go, dressed out of his uniform and into his casual clothes, a sweater one or two sizes too big for him over a shirt and some pants. He calls out her name gently, hand leaning on her table.

And she stares.

Vincent isn’t her type—he’s a little too angelic for her liking, as she does prefer those on the more rugged side—but she won’t deny that he’s attractive. She had never seen Vincent in casual clothes before—she’d seen him hang up his barista apron at the end of shifts before, but never actually caught him go home—and she pauses for a moment when he arrives at her table.

“Are you okay?”

“Haha,” she says awkwardly, coughing her shock away. “Yeah, I almost didn’t recognize you, is all. Let me just pack up?”

She hadn’t expected it, but she should have—that her friendly local barista, the legend of the art department—is living smack dab in the middle of their small town, at the perfect distance to everything. In a house, too, not a small dormitory. It’s a beautiful one painted white with a small garden and a porch outside, a tree standing tall and providing shade on the house, and a small classic mailbox in front—it looked like a house that belonged in the suburbs instead of in the middle of this very schoolish town. She can’t help the small whistle of appreciation when they get there.

“Our father knew the landlord,” Vincent explains, as he unlocks the door. “So we get it rather cheaply. Careful of the landing.”

We? She catches the plural but doesn’t get to ask, as she enters the apartment and marvels at it. It’s not extravagant, but it’s still rather fancy, considering she stays in a small studio room. There are paintings hanging on the walls—Vincent’s, she assumes—and everything is in attractive, warm colors. What catches her attention, however, is the small framed photo on the side table by the sofa, of two boys on a swing, a blond one (Vincent?) pushing one with brown hair (a cousin?).

“Five and three,” Vincent says, by way of explanation. She’s about to ask him who the other child is, but Vincent interrupts her. “Do you need water? A break?”

They’d walked quite a bit from the café, after all, and while she had her bike with her, Vincent didn’t, and so she just rolled it next to her throughout the whole 30-minute walk. “No, I’m okay. Where’s your studio?”

Vincent beams. “Here, come.”

They walk down the hall and enter a door to the left, and the studio opens up to her. The wall on the right has a row of high bookshelves, all nearly filled to the brim with books on all sorts of different topics. The wall where the door is has a layer of corkboard attached to it, where a multitude of prints and photos and papers with scribbles and notes are pinned and strung together. Most of the room’s floor is covered in some kind of paper—newspaper, craft paper—to protect the wooden slats below. There are easels stacked at the far side of the room, but facing away, so she can’t exactly see what is on them. And then, there is the set-up for Vincent’s current project: an easel in the center of the room with the sketch of a woman’s figure; a white sheet draping from the ceiling to the floor, serving as a backdrop, in the far corner; a steel circle hanging by the ceiling, the kind people sit on; black craft paper laid on the floor below it; and on top of it, a small stool, a fabric in beautiful vermillion, and some fairy lights.

“Welcome to the studio,” Vincent says, guiding her inside. “Sorry for the mess, I was working this morning.”

“No, it’s okay,” she says, carefully stepping in. “It’s so interesting to see your studio, where all the magic happens.”

Vincent flinches at that, but doesn’t make any other comment about it. She contemplates if she has to apologize, but doesn’t know exactly what she’ll have to apologize for. “No magic here,” Vincent mumbles.

He asks her to get comfortable on the wooden stool and maybe get a feel for the fabric, as he sets up his camera. The plan was this: she’ll get into the poses he needs for his project, he will take a couple photos for reference in different angles, and then he will take her out to dinner.

The time passes rather uneventfully, and pretty quickly, because the poses aren’t entirely too tricky on her end. A raised arm here, a dangle of hair in this direction, a tiptoe towards this—Vincent is gentle in maneuvering her around and quick in taking his photos, and in an hour they’re ready. Vincent thanks her profusely for her help as he’s packing away, and she laughs as she says “Well, you’re treating me to food, so it’s paid work.”

“Dinner, yes, of course,” Vincent nods, putting the camera back on its place on the bookshelf. “I actually got my brother to save a spot at, erm, my favorite place, if you don’t mind? It’s Greek food.”

“Oh, that’s fine! I didn’t know you had a brother, Vincent.”

“I do, he’s the sweetest thing,” he answers with a beam of a smile, so much so that for a moment she falters about joining them for dinner. One Vincent was bad enough for her heart as it is, but two of them? That’s not good news is it?

Except, yet again, the rule of not saying no to Vincent applies, and so after a bit of tidying they’re already on the way to the restaurant. An actual restaurant, mind you, not some cheapo fast food that Arthur treats her to. (“This isn’t fair, you know? Just because I’m not in your menu of dateables and bangables doesn’t mean you treat me disproportionately to everyone else.” “Stop complaining and eat your McDonald’s.”) It’s a small one, admittedly, but most of the stalls in this town is, anyway. Vincent peers into the building and then pulls her in, inviting her inside.

Vincent pauses for a moment. “I’ve been told he has quite an… aggressive face, but don’t be afraid of him okay?”

“If he’s your brother, there’s no reason to be scared,” she says with a smile. For a moment she is looking for a twin puff of sunflower blond hair, but then, remembering the photos, she begins to look for an equally-fluffy brown mop of hair, and just at the exact moment she comes to the realization—

“Hondje?!”

“Theo?!”

--

The thing with living in such a small university town such as this is that you cannot escape the inevitable.

It’s a silly thought. She even finds it rather ironic that that is the wise saying about making friends and getting to know other people in this university because running away is the one thing she wishes she was good at.

See, the first time she saw Theo, she thought, wow, this guy looks so insufferable. I can’t believe he works here, and I have to see him every week. This is the worst.

Until it isn’t.

She knew, the moment she made eye contact with Theo across the table in that homey Greek restaurant, that that event would change her life in ways she wouldn’t have—and couldn’t have—imagined. She just didn’t know how yet. Vincent was surprised that he didn’t need to introduce the two of them to each other, and with an irritated grumble, Theo had explained that she was a frequenter of the bookstore, taking a jab at her having no other friends and spending so much time around books instead. She quips back and says the reason they don’t have customers is that Theo’s face is enough to sour anyone’s day, and so no one but her comes anyway.

But Vincent is not the kind of person to have this happen, so instead, with a truce, his kind insistence, and irresistible smile—dammit!—she and Theo, instead, become friends. Good friends. Wait, no—they become begrudging friends.

But they don’t talk.

Theo doesn’t even give her his phone number.

No, they’re not friends. Not yet, anyway. Theo makes a show of only putting up with all of this for his brother, as he continues to ignore even the most cordial of texts like “thank you for putting a rush-order on my book!”, throwing insults back and forth with her in the bookshop. But eventually, both of them find a rhythm, a little liminal space of friends by circumstance and not by desire that they’ve agreed on.

That is until they begin the book exchange.

𝙿𝙸𝙴𝙲𝙴𝚂 𝙾𝙵 𝙰 𝙿𝚄𝚉𝚉𝙻𝙴.   how two wrongs make a right.

                            𝚊𝚔𝚊.    how the two fragmented   &   distorted versions of qetsiyah’s immortality spell can combine to make someone a true immortal.

                            first up on my meta rewrites   ,   i’d like to address probably my favorite headcanon i’ve ever come up with over the past five years of writing kennedy.   it all starts with a simple question   ———   𝚆𝙷𝙰𝚃 𝚆𝙾𝚄𝙻𝙳 𝙷𝙰𝙿𝙿𝙴𝙽 𝙸𝙵 𝙺𝙴𝙽𝙽𝙴𝙳𝚈 𝙳𝙸𝙴𝙳 𝚆𝙸𝚃𝙷 𝚅𝙰𝙼𝙿𝙸𝚁𝙴 𝙱𝙻𝙾𝙾𝙳 𝙸𝙽 𝙷𝙴𝚁 𝚂𝚈𝚂𝚃𝙴𝙼   ?

                            so i first posed this question in october of 𝟸𝟶𝟷𝟻   ,   sometime around the beginning of season seven of 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚟𝚊𝚖𝚙𝚒𝚛𝚎 𝚍𝚒𝚊𝚛𝚒𝚎𝚜.   i discussed my theory on what would happen   &   asked for any alternative ideas from my followers at the time.   it’s an interesting theory to look back on because i had been toying with the concept in my head for several months prior to making the post   (   i think since about may of that year   )   ,   &   little did i know at the time that later on in season seven   ,   kennedy would be dealing with this exact scenario.   originally   ,   i had no set plans on when   &   truly 𝚒𝚏 i would put kennedy through such an ordeal   ,   but the opportunity arouse in 𝚑𝚎𝚕𝚕 𝚒𝚜 𝚘𝚝𝚑𝚎𝚛 𝚙𝚎𝚘𝚙𝚕𝚎   &   about a month later   &   with some helpful plotting with my dear friend @crazyimpulsive​​   ,   it was decided that kennedy did in fact die with vampire blood in her system at the end of the episode.

                            so before i delve into how kennedy dies in 𝚑𝚎𝚕𝚕 𝚒𝚜 𝚘𝚝𝚑𝚎𝚛 𝚙𝚎𝚘𝚙𝚕𝚎   ,   let’s first look at why i’m posing this question in the first place.

                            for all of its flaws   ,   the mythology of the vampire diaries is vast   &   very interesting.   like most twenty-somethings i know   ,   i went through a vampires    /   werewolves   /   witches   /   &   other supernatural entities phase that sprung from the popularity of those characters   &   tropes in the media at the time.   i’m not saying i ever grew out of it because   ,   well   ,   i’m still here aren’t i   ?   but i was a little less interested in high school when i first started watching 𝚝𝚟𝚍 in vampires than i was in middle school   ,   &  so when i got to silas   &   amara   ,   a lovely couple of immortals in ancient greece   ,   well   ,   i found them a lot more interesting than i thought i would   (   𝚔𝚊𝚝𝚑𝚎𝚛𝚒𝚗𝚎 𝚠𝚒𝚕𝚕 𝚊𝚕𝚠𝚊𝚢𝚜 𝚋𝚎 𝚖𝚢 𝚏𝚊𝚟𝚘𝚛𝚒𝚝𝚎 𝚟𝚒𝚕𝚕𝚊𝚒𝚗 𝚘𝚏 𝚝𝚑𝚒𝚜 𝚜𝚑𝚘𝚠 𝚋𝚞𝚝 𝚜𝚒𝚕𝚊𝚜 𝚌𝚘𝚖𝚎𝚜 𝚒𝚗 𝚊𝚝 𝚊 𝚌𝚕𝚘𝚜𝚎 𝚜𝚎𝚌𝚘𝚗𝚍    ).   what was more interesting than the characters themselves was the powerful immortality spell qetsiyah had developed   ,   which had been the originator for vampirism spell that runs through the blood of most of our favorite characters.

                            a spell that   ,   if kennedy died with vampire blood in her system   ,   would also now be running through her veins too.

                            okay   ,   cool   ,   awesome   ,   problem solved.   kennedy’s a vampire   ,   right   ?   no   ?   okay   ,   well why wouldn’t she be   ?

                            first   ,   let’s recall how the vampirism spell was created.   esther modified qetsiyah’s original spell.   ayana   ,   the bennett witch who was friends with esther   &    mikael   ,   refused to perform the spell believing it a crime against nature.   if i remember correctly   ,   it’s unclear whether esther had come across the spell or if ayana had informed her of the spell before warning her against it.   but what is clear is the spell is 𝚍𝚎𝚛𝚒𝚟𝚎𝚍 from qetsiyah’s immortality spell.   it’s basically a knock off   ,   generic version   ,   was probably poorly translated from the original greek   ,   some of the ingredients had to be changed   ,   etc   ,   so instead of creating immortal beings like silas   &   amara    &   starting a new line of doppelgängers in their wake   ,   it made the mikaelsons vampires.   &   every person from then on who died with vampire blood in their system would go into transition   ,   which upon the consumption of human blood would transform them into vampires.

                            so 𝚟𝚊𝚖𝚙𝚒𝚛𝚎 𝚋𝚕𝚘𝚘𝚍 + 𝚍𝚎𝚊𝚝𝚑 = 𝚝𝚛𝚊𝚗𝚜𝚒𝚝𝚒𝚘𝚗.   𝚝𝚛𝚊𝚗𝚜𝚒𝚝𝚒𝚘𝚗 + 𝚑𝚞𝚖𝚊𝚗 𝚋𝚕𝚘𝚘𝚍 = 𝚟𝚊𝚖𝚙𝚒𝚛𝚎.   simple enough.   but what happens when you add another spell into the mix   ?   a spell that would halt the process of becoming a vampire.

                            does 𝚟𝚊𝚖𝚙𝚒𝚛𝚎 𝚋𝚕𝚘𝚘𝚍 + 𝚛𝚎𝚒𝚗𝚌𝚊𝚛𝚗𝚊𝚝𝚒𝚘𝚗 𝚜𝚙𝚎𝚕𝚕 + 𝚍𝚎𝚊𝚝𝚑 = 𝚝𝚛𝚊𝚗𝚜𝚒𝚝𝚒𝚘𝚗   ?

                            let me explain why i don’t think it would.   first   ,   because the reincarnation spell used on this blog is part of my own personal mythology i wanted to add into the 𝚝𝚟𝚍 universe   ,   it needs it’s own breakdown.   the gist of the spell works like this   ,   because kennedy has the spell on her soul   ,   when her body dies   ,   her soul moves onto her next life   &   body   ,   which appears identical to her last   (   this is mostly for convenience sake sake   &   also because some myths of reincarnation do include the person looking the same.   as for the scientific details   ,   i suppose somewhere along the line kennedy   ,   evelyn   ,   &   eliza can trace their lineage back to the petrovs but i have not expanded on how yet   ).   i’ve never discussed the specifics of what happens to her soul between her last life until her next   ,   but my current theory   (  which i hope to expand on later   ,   i need to rewatch the stuff involving alaric   &   matt   &   the gilbert ring   )   is that her soul lingers on the other side during this time with all the other deceased supernatural creatures    (   this of course begs a separate question about what would happen post-season six if kennedy had died 𝚠𝚒𝚝𝚑𝚘𝚞𝚝 vampire blood in her system since the other side is 𝚜𝚞𝚙𝚙𝚘𝚜𝚎𝚍𝚕𝚢 destroyed   ).   during this time   ,   she has access to her memories still   (   &   perhaps even her former ones   ,   you’ll have to give me a pass on the details bc all my hcs regarding reincarnation + the other side have been lost on skype   )   ,   &   when it’s time for a new incarnation to begin   ,   her soul is pulled into her new body   &   her memories are gone again   ,   with hints of it sometime lingering around.

                            this particular form of a reincarnation spell can trace its first use   ,   of course   ,   to the 1400s when irina   ,   a bennett witch descended from the same line as qetsiyah   &   ayana   ,  created it.   like most bennett witches we know   ,   she got tangled up with the petrov lineage   ———   but instead of befriending amara’s doppelgänger   ,   she was friends with anastasia petrova   ,   kennedy’s first incarnation.   the two were best friends   &   told each other everything.   as we know   ,   ana was pretty much a two-faced bitch to most of the people she knew.   but never to irina.   irina was the only person ana was whole-heartedly genuine with.   she never lied to her.   she never betrayed her.   she told the girl everything there was to know about her   ———   her fears   ,   her loves   ,   her regrets.   irina was her confidant.   irina helped her learn more about magic after katherine stopped sneaking around   &   learning traveller spells behind their father back.   while katherine had begun seeking out attention from pretty men   ,   anastasia had continued seeking out more knowledge on witchcraft   ,   &   irina was always there with a helping hand   ,   trying to guide her to use it properly   &    respectfully.   because of their deep friendship   &   all the honesty ana put into it   ,   irina was faced with a terrible choice.   when the bennett witch had a terrible premonition about anastasia’s violent death   ,   she decided she had to do something to stop it.   she searched   &   searched for a way to prevent ana from dying but every trail turned up dry.   eventually   ,   irina came across a family heirloom   ,   an ancient translation of an immortality spell   ,   different from the vampire spell   ,   more permanent.   like with the vampirism spell   ,   some of the ingredients had been changed   &   some of the words had been translated wrong.   reading over the spell   ,   the witch was aware of what it would do   ———   it would not make anastasia immortal per say   ,   but instead it would allow her the chance to live again   &   perhaps make make amends to all the girl had wronged in her current life.   the bennett witch brewed the spell with one special addition   &   slipped it into ana’s drink one night.   two weeks later   ,   the entire petrov family had been slaughtered   ,   &   there were no signs the spell had worked.   anastasia’s soul didn’t pop up again until the 1800s in a small town in virginia   ,   a town where a few years later   ,   another bennett witch would be make an appearance.   the small addition irina had made to the spell   ?   an insurance policy that would link ana’s soul to the bennett line   ,   so when the time came to break the spell   &   restore balance to nature   ,   a bennett witch would be able to remove it.   however   ,   because of how much time had elapsed between irina    &   emily’s interactions with ana’s incarnations   ,   none of the bennett witches ana’s soul met had any idea how the spell came to be or how to break it.   little is known in-universe on how ana was able to reincarnate other than there was a spell   &   a bennett witch performed it   &   then linked it to the bennett bloodline.   it is only after kennedy’s death that katherine offers up what she has learned of the spell having researched it throughout the years since meeting eliza gilbert.

                            in summary   ,   just like the vampirism spell   ,   the reincarnation spell on kennedy’s soul is also derivived from qetsiyah’s immortality spell.   so what would happen if someone were to die with both of these fragmented   &   distorted versions of the spell were to co-occur   ?   would one win over the other   ?   would neither work at all   ?   they’re 𝚝𝚎𝚌𝚑𝚗𝚒𝚌𝚊𝚕𝚕𝚢 the same spell   ,   resulting in an imperfect form of immortality   ,   both with the ability to still die   (   vampirism with a stake   ,   reincarnation via a human death   ).   so what if instead of the two spell competing with another   ,   they instead completed each other   &   fused into one spell   ?   my solution to this problem is that the spells fit together like pieces of a puzzle   ,  combining to fix what had been distorted   &   fragmented until they form the complete   &   proper immortality spell the qetsiyah created all those years ago.

                            so if the 𝚒𝚖𝚖𝚘𝚛𝚝𝚊𝚕𝚒𝚝𝚢 𝚜𝚙𝚎𝚕𝚕 = 𝚊 + 𝚋   ,   the 𝚟𝚊𝚖𝚙𝚒𝚛𝚎 𝚜𝚙𝚎𝚕𝚕 𝚎𝚜𝚝𝚑𝚎𝚛 𝚌𝚛𝚎𝚊𝚝𝚎𝚍 = 𝚊   ,   &   the 𝚛𝚎𝚒𝚗𝚌𝚊𝚛𝚗𝚊𝚝𝚒𝚘𝚗 𝚜𝚙𝚎𝚕𝚕 𝚝𝚑𝚊𝚝 𝚒𝚛𝚒𝚗𝚊 𝚌𝚛𝚎𝚊𝚝𝚎𝚍 = 𝚋   ,   then 𝚟𝚊𝚖𝚙𝚒𝚛𝚎 𝚜𝚙𝚎𝚕𝚕 + 𝚛𝚎𝚒𝚗𝚌𝚊𝚛𝚗𝚊𝚝𝚒𝚘𝚗 𝚜𝚙𝚎𝚕𝚕 = 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚒𝚖𝚖𝚘𝚛𝚝𝚊𝚕𝚒𝚝𝚢 𝚜𝚙𝚎𝚕𝚕.   meaning our previously forever reincarnating witch would no longer be a witch   &   she wouldn’t transition into a vampire either   ,   but instead would become a proper psychic immortal.   it would be just like she took the elixir silas   &   amara took.

                            which is really the gist of it.   i was gonna talk about how kennedy dies in 𝚑𝚎𝚕𝚕 𝚒𝚜 𝚘𝚝𝚑𝚎𝚛 𝚙𝚎𝚘𝚙𝚕𝚎 but this post is long enough   &   i have a drabble on it already that i just need to spruce up before publishing again   ,   so i might do that later this week instead.   there is the caveat that because kennedy’s lived four different lives   &   the whole other side memory wipe thing i mentioned earlier   ,   that when kennedy wakes up after dying   ,   she doesn’t have any of her memories   &   there’s a whole process of having to trigger each incarnation’s set of memories in the order of who lived first to who lived last   ,   so we take a brief pause on the other nonsense occurring in season seven get to see ana   ,   eliza   ,   &   evelyn for a bit before finally reuniting with our lovely kennedy   ,   except she gets to keep all of those memories from her past lives this time as well.

Hi! Well I have a prompt but this isn't about Malec. It is about The downworlder (esp Raphael) seeking comfort to Magnus and have a good talk about anything? Thank you xx

Here you go, nonnie. Sorry it took me so long, but I’m on vacation and didn’t have much time to write recently. This is set long before Magnus and Alec get to know each other, but it has Magnus and Raphel being besties instead.  Hope you like it :)

The door ofthe fancy penthouse apartment in Brooklyn flew open with a loud bang to let itsowner pass. Magnus walked through with a grumpy look on his face. With a flickof his hand, he made his tight-fitted black coat disappear to its place in thewardrobe and then changed into more comfortable clothes with another flick ofblue magic before dropping down onto his living room couch with a deep sigh.

This daycould not have been any worse.

Even thoughit had started out so smoothly. He’d spent the previous night at Camille’s, thevampire had just come back to New York after she’d spent the winter in India.They’d had a few drinks, and over dinner, Camille had filled him in on all thelatest gossip she’d learned in Agra. Altogether an excellent evening.

This morning, however, had been quite the opposite. He’d woken up to herranting about something or someone she had to meet, and before he’d had achance to find out who or what she’d been talking about, she had already kickedhim out of her apartment, barely leaving him the time to put his clothes backon. This had resulted in an argument in the hallway, which had then resultedinto her breaking up with him – again.

And not only did his day start with what seemed like at least the tenthbreakup between Camille and him – it has also continued with one of the worstwork schedules of all time. Throughout the day, he’d had to portal to 15different clients in 12 different countries, and each of those appointments hadbeen an even worse nightmare than the last. But neither of those appointmentscould compare to his final one for the day, when Maryse Lightwood had calledhim into the Institute to adjust the protective words once again. Maybe it wasjust a coincidence, but Magnus felt like ever since her and Robert had hadtheir first child, a boy if he remembered correctly, Maryse was even colder andmore unpleasant than usual.

So, to cut a long story short, Magnus had never been happier to comehome from work and finally be done for the day.

He was just about to pour himself a drink to make up for this awful dayas quickly as possible, when he heard someone knock softly at his front door.Magnus let his head fall back against the headrest and sighed – so much forbeing done for today. But when he let the door fly open with a flick of hismagic, it was not a customer who was standing in front of it, but his friendRaphael.

Raphael, who looked like someone had set his collection of exquisitesuits on fire and danced in the flamesright in front of his eyes. His shoulders were slumped, his hands were stuffedinto his pockets and his usually so accurately styled hair was disheveled, asif he’d run his hands through it a couple of times.

Not that the vampire was usually a particularly cheery person, butseeing his friend so obviously miserable had Magnus worry. So he frowned when hegot up and walked towards Raphael, who was all but dragging his feet over thecarpet in the hallway. “Raphael, what happened?”

“Awful day”, the vampire responded, barely looking up from where he wasnow staring at the floor.

Magnus scoffed. “Oh, tell me about it. Come on, sit down and have adrink with me, there’s nothing an old whiskey can’t fix.”

“I think I may have found something that can prove your theory wrong”, Raphael grumbled ina low tone, but followed him into the living room anyways.

When they were sitting on the couch, both a glass in hand, Magnus withan old whiskey he’d gotten as a housewarming gift when he’d moved to Londonback in the late 1800s, and Raphael with a shot of A+, Magnus tried again.

“What’s up, Raphael? You can talk to me if you want to”, he asked, voicecalm and letting Raphael the room he knows the vampire needed in situationslike this. Raphael didn’t open up easily to people, Magnus had learned that along time ago. He’d come around eventually, but pressuring him into talkingwould only backfire.  

The vampire downed his glass in one go and then leaned back against thecouch, running a hand over his tired features. “Rosa’s been diagnosed withAlzheimer’s”, he said, followed by a deep sigh.

Magnus almost dropped his glass when he heard that. He carefully set itdown onto the coffee table and then looked at his friend in shock. “What?”

“Her doctors called me today. She’snot been feeling well lately and constantly forgot things, so the people fromthe home took her to the hospital…and that is the outcome.”

Magnus was still to shocked to speak. Raphael may be a tough, respectedvampire leader, but Magnus knew him well enough to know how important hislittle sister was to him. Raphael loved her with all his heart, it had to hurthim more than anything to know that he was going to lose her one day.

“Raphael, I am so sorry. I had no idea”, he then said, honestly at aloss of words. Magnus had met Rosa a couple of times and always remembered heras a lovely, cheerful, funny woman. Realizing that all of that was going to fade awaysooner or later broke his heart. He could only imagine how Raphael must befeeling. “Are the doctors sure?”

Raphael nodded. “Apparently, it’s still an early stage and not that badyet…but she’s already forgetting so many things, Magnus”, he said, his voicehinting how desperate he must be feeling. “Last week she couldn’t remember thename of the nurse who has been taking care of her ever since she broke her leglast year. What if I’m next? What if she forgets who I am?”

Magnus didn’t know what to answer to that. They both knew that this wasvery much a possibility, that it was likely going to happen one day. And thatthey could do absolutely nothing to stop it from happening. So he didn’t sayanything, just scooted closer to his friend and pulled him into a much-neededbear hug. Raphael tensed up a bit at first, but after a few seconds relaxedinto the hug and put his arms around Magnus as well, letting out another deepsigh.

“Look”, Magnus started when they’d pulled apart, “I know that this isextremely hard for you and that you are trying to find a solution so bad…butyou have to face that there’s nothing you can do. At least nothing that willchange the fact that she’s not going to get better.”

Magnus took a sip of his drink and carefully thought about his nextwords. “The thing is, you don’t know if she’s forget who you are one day. Itmay happen, it may not. You don’t know. All you can do is be there for her andmake this as easy as possible for her. Spend as much time as you can together,make new memories together that she can remember you by. And if things getworse, adapt to that. Make the changes that are necessary, help her get used tomedication or whatever she may need then. But until then, enjoy the time youtwo have together and don’t think too much about what may be. Just take one dayat a time, okay?”

Raphael looked up at him, eyes still sad but also somewhat hopeful. “Iguess you’re right. Even though that hurts like hell.”

“I’m always right”, Magnus retorted, smirking at his friend.

Raphael even tried a sad smile as a reaction. “Yeah, sure. You’re also waytoo sure of yourself.” His gaze then turned serious. “Seriously, though,Magnus. Thank you for being there for me. I really appreciate it. It’s good tohave a friend in times like these.”

Magnus cocked his head to the side and smiled at his friend. “You’vehelped me so often in the past 50 years, this is the least I can do. Besides”,he teased, “I have tons of experience in the field of awful days. Got some moreof it just before you came here.”

He didn’t have to say much more, Raphael just raised an eyebrow and senthim a knowing look. “Camille?”

Magnus nodded and sighed. He and reached for the bottle of whiskey,pouring some more into his own glass and conjuring some more blood into Raphael’s.“Camille.”

“Well”, Raphael said as he reached for his glass, “You know what I thinkof you dating her, so I’m going to skip the part about telling you that she’splaying with your feelings and nothing more. But I’m going to tell you somethingelse: Here’s the thing with heartbreak – the only thing that really makes itbetter is letting it pass. You just said it yourself, amigo”, he added, “Oneday at a time.”

“Yeah”, Magnus sighed when heclinked his glass against Raphael’s, “one day at a time.”