Author's note: Hi everyone! Thank you for the beautiful reviews! You're all absolutely spectacular and I'm incredibly blessed to have you in my life, in any capacity.
So, because I promised all of you familiars in this chapter, it became really long. That one's on me. :D
Elena noticed Damon's deteriorating mood soon after their feeding excursion, despite what she assumed were his best efforts to hide it and made a mental note to explore it when they got back to their hotel room.
"Shower?" she offered with a growing, suggestive smile, as soon as they walked through the door. "You know, since we're all road-trippy and gross," she added flippantly with an air of faux-innocence, borrowing an expression of his from yesteryear.
"You go ahead," Damon replied distractedly, moving to remove a few items from his bag, including his laptop. "I need to look for the fastest route to – what was it? The now-defunct Lake Shore Psychiatric Hospital?"
"Yeah, that's where the hybrids were found," Elena replied, narrowing her eyes in suspicion. Damon was well-aware that the GPS existed, given that they used one, so this was definitely unusual, and completely unlike him. She resolved to get to the bottom of this.
Elena just finished changing into a set of red lingerie that consistently evoked a favorable response from Damon in the past when he exited the bathroom with a towel around his waist. She sauntered over with what she sincerely hoped was a seductive sashay, wrapped her arms around his neck, and pressed her lips to his. His response was immediate as he melted into her, and Elena could have sung with relief. Perhaps this would be easier than she expected.
Within seconds, she found herself being walked back to the bed, with Damon on top of her, determined to kiss every inch of her. Taking a chance, she rolled them and scraped her elongated fangs along his neck, silently asking for permission.
"Yeah," he hissed. "Do it."
She plunged her fangs neatly into his artery with the same practiced precision she used only hours earlier on the streets of Niagara Falls, filling her mouth with the sweet nectar of his life-force. Immediately, her body reacted, but what really catapulted Elena into bliss was the swelling of emotion that flooded her entire being. She felt his all-consuming love for her – almost blinding in its intensity. As she allowed herself to get lost in the feeling, there was something else – something deeper. She consciously searched for it, adamantly refused to let go until she found it.
Perhaps her methods tonight were sneaky, she admitted, but his change in attitude was starting cause some alarm. Yes, there it was. She almost choked when she was suddenly bombarded with it – a deep, penetrating, almost poisonous self-loathing. She had a feeling Katherine's words wouldn't be anywhere near as harmless as Damon made them sound. They seemed precision-pointed, aimed to target the most poignant sources of pain – unhealed wounds of yesteryear that were buried under decades of sarcastic deflection, escapism, and other coping mechanisms.
Blood-sharing was personal, indeed. It was far from the first time they'd done it. The truth was, ever since that time in the Mystic Grill's bathroom, Elena had been increasingly curious to try this. The more they did it, the stronger the bond became, and the clearer the – almost emotional essence – of the partner.
With the sheer intensity and growing clarity of the revelations, Elena sincerely doubted that it was an act taken lightly by the vampire species and found herself increasingly touched that Damon trusted her that much that day. Given the immediate physiological response, she could also see why Stefan punched him when Damon felt the need to inform him of the shared experience in the glibbest way possible.
She felt tears come unbidden to her eyes, her heart utterly breaking with the intensity of his feelings. She suspected it was bad, but nowhere near as much. Retracting her fangs, she gently moved his mouth to her neck.
"Please," she whispered, hoping that feeling her own vivid love for him would quell some of this self-destructive tide. Within a fraction of a second, she felt his fangs pierce her neck, feeling euphoric for more than one reason when he listened to her request and drank.
Sometime later as they both chased their breaths in the blissful afterglow of their lovemaking, Elena traced idle patterns on Damon's stomach while her head lay pillowed on his chest.
"I love you, Damon," she whispered, desperate to find the words to communicate her feelings in case her blood-sharing ploy failed her.
"I love you, too," he replied, squeezing her tighter and pressing a lingering kiss into her temple.
"You have no idea how much," she continued, swept with emotion, as she sat up, urging him to look at her.
"I have some idea," he smiled, watching her through a smoldering cerulean gaze, as he took her hand and pressed a kiss into the palm, right at the pulse point. She felt a jolt run through her body at the sensation.
"Do you?" she asked with almost too much hope in her expressive, dark eyes. "Because what I felt –"
"I knew it!" he excitedly interrupted, sitting up as well. "That's why you initiated the blood-sharing. Pretty devious for you. I'm impressed," he added with a roguish smirk.
"I learned from the best," she replied with a matching smirk of her own subtly curving her lips. "And it wasn't the only reason I did it."
"You took advantage of me, Elena," he mock-chided with excessive drama and a shake of his head. "I feel very exploited. You took an advantage of my vulnerability when I was in an excited state like the world's most adorable honeypot, and I demand compensation – in the form of Jer's secret little drawings he thinks no one sees, for blackmail purposes."
She giggled in response, scooting to press a flurry of kisses to his cheek and lips, before wrapping her arms around him tightly and pressing her face into the crook of his neck, her eyes closed.
Elena took a steadying breath, bracing herself. "What did she mean, Damon? About your father?"
"You forgot to hit your turn signal before that segue," he wryly replied, subtly testing the strength of her embrace before realizing she wasn't about to let go.
"Tell me, Damon," She urged, ignoring his attempt to deflect.
"It's nothing to concern yourself with," he attempted again, trying to get her to slide off him, but she wouldn't budge. "Just some ancient daddy issues that are best left with his decomposing corpse."
"Please," she begged, finally pulling back to look at him, her eyes enveloped in vulnerability and concern. "What scars?"
Sighing, Damon extended his arm, his fingers tracing two faded discolorations about an inch in diameter each on the space where his forearm was about to meet his elbow. His eyes took on a faraway look as Elena gently ran her fingers over the marks after his left the area.
She frowned, examining them closely. Based on the shape, she could probably guess where they were from, but she hoped she was wrong. "What happened here?" she asked softly, though inside, she could feel a protective rage building.
"Daddy dearest's ashtray mysteriously went missing and he happened to trip and fall right on my forearm," Damon shrugged with an air of playful matter-of-factness, hoping to put the matter to rest.
Elena tilted her head to explore him dubiously, a sarcastic expression of disbelief settling on her face. He remembered fondly first seeing it in the road trip to Georgia where they initially bonded. Although it always warmed his heart to see it, he also knew with perfect clarity that it meant that she wasn't about to let this go.
"Don't look so scandalized, Elena. Running with scissors – or in this case, lit smokables – didn't become a faux pas at least until mid-twentieth century."
Elena continued to stare at him with a raised eyebrow, but then gently placed her hands on either of his cheeks. "You can tell me, Damon," she whispered. "I'll keep your secret."
Damon's eyes connected with his and Elena almost gasped at the startling vulnerability, surmising that this had been a great source of shame for him. She read about this in her textbook – how children's view of themselves is shaped by their parents – and how this follows them long into adulthood, sometimes for the rest of their lives. She recognized the strange look in his eyes for what it was: shame. He was ashamed of the way his father treated him, because he thought it was a reflection of who he was.
Finally, he reluctantly nodded, but turned away, unwilling to face her. "When Katherine first came to town, she needed to ingratiate herself with everyone. Since she saw how close Stefan was to our father, she chose him as her source of information in our family. So, she asked him all sorts of questions, to learn about us, and act around us accordingly. That's how she learned about that night."
"And what happened that night?" Elena prompted, taking Damon's hand in hers, even though he was still facing away from her.
"I don't remember if my father was always like that, or if he grew into a miserable old man, but being around him became unbearable after a while. Everything made him angry. Everything set him off. When words weren't enough to show what a cantankerous douche he'd become, he'd speak through his fists. My mother and I got the worst of it – it was all I could do to protect Stef," he spoke distantly, looking out of the window.
"He mentioned something to me about that. How did you protect him?" she inquired, her voice a hushed embrace.
"Taking the blame for this he did. He broke a vase; I'd say I did it. Eventually, it started working too well, and I became daddy dearest's prime suspect whenever anything he didn't like happened. And then one night, some money went missing," he continued with affected emotionless, desperate to distance himself from the memories.
"What happened?" Elena asked, fighting to keep her tone steady as she felt tears hot tears prick her eyes. At that moment, she was glad that he was facing away, because she knew he'd hate them on her now. Damon was entirely too proud to ever be pitied – and she doubted she would be able to explain to him now – during the tumult of emotion – that what she felt wasn't pity, but love and even anger on his behalf.
"Turns out our mother stole it. Planned to buy train tickets for the three of us to get us all away from him, but he noticed it missing. So he asked our mother to leave the room and get him some bourbon. While she was gone, he asked me if I took it. I denied it. Then he threatened Stef, so I confessed. What else was I going to do?" he shrugged, then his tone took on a lighthearted quality that Elena new was forced. He pasted a smirk onto his face and finally looked at her as though he hadn't a care in the world. "Then he had me lock arms with his cigar in a friendly embrace," he added, as though it were an amusing anecdote shared over dinner with friends.
Elena stared for him for several whole seconds, unable to control the warm liquid gathering in her eyes or her trembling hands. "I hate him!" she finally shouted, before wrapping her arms securely around him.
"It was a different time, Elena –" he sighed, evidently uncomfortable with the turn of the evening's conversation.
"No, it wasn't!" Elena fiercely retorted. "I'm pretty sure deliberately burning your children was never normal."
"You're making a bigger deal of it than it is," he winced.
"Look, I get why you're defending him, Damon. It's normal for children, no matter what the age, to seek approval from their –"
"Did you get that from the psych textbook I saw you bring along?" Damon interrupted with a casual smirk. "Look, I'm not defending him. My father was a massive douche, and I know it. I just don't want you to get all worked up over it. It was a long time ago. He's not worth it."
"But you are! You're worth everything. When Stefan told me that you used to take the blame and punishments for him, I thought – I don't know what I thought," she admitted ruefully. "But not this!"
"You knew he shot us both," he retorted pointedly.
"I did, and I knew that he was a foul man and a bigot, but what I didn't know that he was also just a straight-up abuser!"
"Elena, stop. Just let it go," he groaned, pinching the bridge of his nose between his thumb and index finger.
She swallowed thickly, nodding – seeing how uncomfortable this was making him. This was enough for one night – perhaps too much. "Fine," she breathed. "I will." Then she looked up at him fiercely and took his face in her hands again. "But I'll never let this go. I love you, and you are deserving of all the love this world has to offer, and I don't care how long it takes me to prove it to you. I'll do it. But I can't do it alone. You have to help me."
He finally looked at her, letting his lips curve in an exhausted attempt at a smile, as his hands slid onto hers. "What do you need me to do?"
"Just," she sighed, not entirely sure what to say. This was beyond the realm of anything she'd ever attempted. "Just please trust me – please believe me," she whispered, closing her eyes and pressing her forehead to his.
"I do," he replied, closing his own eyes to lean into her touch. "More than you realize probably."
"What!?" Bonnie asked, aghast. "What do you mean he looked exactly like Stefan?"
"Did stealing my life-force knock whatever was left of those spell-addled brain cells of yours? I just said he looked like Stefan. It's exactly what it sounds like," Katherine replied irritably, her anxiety rising and masking itself in increasingly prickly behavior.
"Okay, if you don't cut that attitude out, you can forget my help in figuring out this – situation of ours. I'm the one that's made of flesh, and you're the one who's forced to follow me around," Bonnie declared, crossing her arms over her chest smugly. "As far as I'm concerned, I'm winning here."
"Oh yeah?" Katherine sneered. "Then good luck getting any more information out of me."
"You'll tell us," Jeremy smirked. "We don't need to do anything."
"Oh yeah?" Katherine scoffed, raising an elegant eyebrow. "And why's that?"
"Because it's Stefan," Jeremy replied confidently, his demeanor sobering. "You'd do anything for him."
Katherine just rolled her eyes, sauntering over to the couch to elegantly take a seat, but was unnerved when she fell right through it. Perhaps she should be grateful that she wasn't falling through the floor. Her eyes widened in alarm when she realized that the Earth itself was constantly in motion, careening through space. If left untethered, so would leave it in less than a second. Something, at the very least, was keeping her here – though her attachment to the physical realm was tenuous at best.
With a long-suffering sigh, Bonnie went to pour herself some bourbon in a tumbler that Katherine had mercifully spared, then offered one to Jeremy, as well. This situation was becoming untenable, she feared. Firstly, no one knew quite what the connection was between her and Katherine, and the latter was hardly the model of cooperation. Perhaps visiting the witch house and casting the Astral Plane spell was a good option – maybe they could shed some light on disconnecting the tether between them. At times like this, she missed Alaric, with his near-insatiable thirst for historical knowledge – which often extended to the supernatural.
She missed her Grams. So deeply, desperately that it clenched her heart in a vice. She would know what to do. She would pull her into an embrace, sit her down at the kitchen table, and make her some calming tea to soothe her frayed nerves.
A cup of tea would make everything right, her Grams used to say. It was only after she became a witch that Bonnie wondered of her tea ever contained any special properties designed to soothe – to heal.
"Fine," Katherine's defeated voice finally broke the silence of Bonnie's reverie – though she wasn't sure how much time passed – seconds or minutes. "I'll help you. It's Stefan. God, I'm pathetic," she groaned, taking a seat on the floor. She carefully tested her ability to lean against the couch and was surprised to find that it worked. Maybe there were some rules to this game. She would just have to figure them out.
After all, Katherine Pierce was a survivor. And being a poltergeist was just a small obstacle on her way to success – whatever that was, at this point.
The following morning saw Damon in almost suspiciously chipper spirits – especially for him. Elena realized that he was probably still reeling from their conversation the night before, but needed to hide, so this time, she would let him. It was Familiar Day, after all!
Her heart beat a veritable drum solo in anticipation. Soon, soon – so very soon – she would have her first familiar!
"Ooh, so I've done a lot of research on this!" Elena beamed as they finally made it into the woods near the hospital, eager to impress with all her newfound knowledge of corvids.
"Is that what you were doing on your phone all those hours?" Damon teased, having noticed her scrolling with intense concentration as the Camaro sped through the desolate nighttime streets on their way to colder temperatures and friendly birds.
"Yes! So," she began, her face alight with excitement. "Apparently crows and ravens are competitive species, and they often exhibit predatory behavior with one another – which I'm guessing you already know, since you're the corvid expert here."
"Dazzle me with all your newfound knowledge, Elena," he grinned.
"I will! And this is where I shine," she grinned, twirling in place with her arms extended outward playfully. "In nineteen ninety, a Beth Jefferson found evidence of pair bonding between a raven and a crow – culminating in a successful mating event," she continued importantly, though there were raindrops of teasing sprinkled in her voice."
"Oh yeah?" Damon asked, playing along. "And how did she find it?"
"Well," Elena beamed, her smile growing impossibly wider. "A Common Raven was spotted one-hundred and forty-five kilometers outside of Toronto, according to the paper I read. Normally, crows chase ravens – becomes ravens frequently steal their eggs – but one was found circling with a crow, without any aggressive activity on either side. That same raven was then found frequently sitting perched on a branch of the same tree, until eventually, it was observed feeding a dove carcass to little crow babies."
"Dove carcass. That's probably my brother's version of Michelin star blood," Damon quipped.
Elena swatted his chest playfully in what would never actually pass for admonition, then laughed and continued. "So, from what I gathered, it looks like the hybrid babies were about the size of a raven – so definitely larger than a typical crow – and their tails were more wedge-shaped."
"Uh huh," Damon smiled, humoring her.
"But! Their heads are shaped more like that of a crow," she delighted. "Look," she pressed, pulling out her phone and looking for pictures of ravens and crows, side-by-side. "So, I think we just need to find a bird that has those characteristics."
"Wow," Damon widened his eyes dramatically, though a smirk was teasing the edge of his lips. "If I had known that you were such a nerd when I first met you, I would have just tried to lure you in with a graphing calculator and a subscription to Nature."
"You like it," she purred, twisting her hands in his shirt and pulling him so close their lips almost touched. "You'd get bored with a dumb-dumb, and you know it."
"Maybe. My low threshold for boredom is pretty legendary. What else do you know?" Damon asked sultrily, closing the small distance between them, and pulling her into a heated kiss.
"I know that we need to start looking for familiars!" she playfully pulled back after giving in for a few seconds, futilely trying to keep the almost childlike excitement from her voice.
He chuckled and pulled her flush against him, Elena's mind suddenly transporting to that day when he told her about the path to a vampire's heart. She closed her eyes, as memories of his whispers filled her psyche.
"Right here – just below the rib cage, next to the spine. That's your way to a vampire's heart. I'll do whatever it is you need me to do, Elena."
Her breath quickened at the closeness of the moment – at his proximity. She could feel his breath on her face, sultry, sensual, filling the surface of her skin with goosebumps. A small part of her was frustrated because she knew with perfect clarity that he knew exactly what he was doing. A larger part of her didn't care and wanted him to continue.
"Vampires are a product of magic, and magic isn't logic or research – it's feeling. It's pure emotion, made manifest. Crows, ravens – really all animals, including humans – feel different. That's how you identify them," Damon said, his voice rumbling low in his chest. "Do you know how you feel to me right now?"
"I have a feeling you're going to tell me," she tried to sound flippant, but her voice faltered.
"Alert. Aware. One might even say aroused," he purred seductively.
"You are such an ass," she barely managed. "And I'm going to kick yours so hard for this later."
"Then you know this'll help you get into the right mind frame to feel more than think. Crows have a more aggressive nature," he whispered into her hear, his lips just barely brushing the shell, causing Elena to stifle a gasp. "While ravens are quieter, more introverted. If you want your hybrid, you need to reach out and feel to see which bird has characteristics of both. Close your eyes, Elena. How do you feel?"
"You know how I feel, Damon, you gigantic jackass," she hissed, subconsciously pressing into him.
"Good," he said, suddenly returning his voice to normal and pulling away. "Focus on your feelings and try to get a sense of the corvids around you. Reach out with your mind to them."
Elena nodded, locking eyes with the bird closest to her, but immediately reeled back by the aggression she sensed. Definitely a crow. Looking farther down, she went through a few more, until she found a curious one watching her from above – almost in a perfect position to hide from her, but Elena suddenly felt drawn to that avian above all others. Reaching out, she felt almost a perfect balance of the qualities Damon described. "Her," Elena breathed, almost involuntarily. "I want her."
"Call her."
"Hey, bird!" she called, frowning when her chosen corvid barely moved. "Caw?" she tried, but to no avail. "Please come here," she pouted.
"With your mind," Damon laughed. "Reach out to her. Tell her to come to you. You obviously connected enough to know it's a her, so the rest should be easy."
Elena nodded, making eye contact with the creature. She bit her lip in concentration, then reached out her arm. Within seconds, the bird swept off its tree branch and elegantly landed on Elena's hand. Elena immediately screeched in delight, almost frightening the poor creature away.
"I can't believe she's here – she's really here! I have a familiar!" she cooed; her voice choked with awed emotion.
"You did beautifully," Damon complimented, dropping a kiss onto her hair as he came closer again to put his arm around her waist.
"Emma," Elena breathed, stroking her familiar's onyx feathers. A smile speaking of the wonder she felt that graced her face. "The product of true love," then she looked at her favorite person in the world, veritable sunbeams escaping from the magnitude of the smile that kissed her face. "It's all thanks to you. Everything. Everything is thanks to you. I love you so much."
"We'll see how that love fares during familiar training," he winked. "And I love you, too," he added, before calling a crow to perch on his shoulder.
"You look like such a pirate with that black leather jacket bird on your shoulder," Elena laughed.
"Please! Pirates have parrots," he corrected, mock-affronted. "They're nowhere near as cool as I am."
"Really? You mean to tell me you're not attracted to a life of adventure without any conventional rules or boundaries?" she grinned impishly, raising a knowing eyebrow. "Besides, I think pirates are sexy."
"If I was someone cheesy like Quarterback, or Steffie – or" he shuddered ostentatiously, "wolf-boy, I'd probably make a lame and predictable booty joke."
"But since you're you," she prompted, biting her lip in anticipation.
"I'll take you on an adventure that'll make Blackbeard, Calico Jack, and Captain Kidd combined look like boy scouts."
Elena smile grew as her heart beat in anticipation. "So, what now?"
"While you were doing corvid research, I stumbled onto another funny little article. Apparently, there's an urban legend surrounding this hospital," he smirked.
"When did you do this research?" Elena asked, aghast, her eyes widening. "You were driving the whole time!"
"When you were on the phone with Witchy," Damon explained, bristling at the implication that his superhuman multi-tasking skills were anywhere less than stellar. "And for the record – vampire! I could drive, read, and probably command a bird army all at the same time without so much as blinking an eye. My reflexes are exceptional."
Elena rolled her eyes, grinning at his rarely bruised ego and her obvious effect on him. Damon may have some deep-seated insecurities and self-worth issues, but outwardly, he absolutely oozed confidence. "I just meant that it's dangerous, Damon."
"I thought you liked a little danger?" he teased. "Or is that only true when it comes with leather, a ship, and a bird perched on his shoulder?"
"A forest road is fine," she winked. "Now tell me about this urban legend."
"Legend has it that there was a young prophetess – an Oracle – that lived in this town in the nineteen fifties, by the name of Carlie Olsen. She was probably just a witch, truth be told, but she was rumored to have the gift of foresight. Anyway, her lover left for some business in greater Toronto in October and she was filled with all these horrifying images, predicting Hurricane Hazel – though she didn't realize what it was at the time, because any premonitions come in the form of riddles, especially to novice witches, as I'm sure Bon-Bon told you," Damon explained, watching his crow peck at something on the ground with a curious gaze, before turning his attention back to Elena.
Emma, meanwhile, sat perched on Elena's shoulder, while its human stroked its soft feathers, listening to Damon's story.
"She apparently saw tidal waves as big as skyscrapers and winds strong enough to rip continents apart heading toward the city in her visions and ran to warn anyone she could. She'd always had prophetic dreams, apparently, so she took these signs very seriously."
"Were her family witches?" Elena asked.
"Possibly. There was some allusion to them being thought strange, which in the fifties could have meant literally anything diverting from the straight and narrow path of complete and total conformity. But sure, gathering herbs and chanting would definitely fall under the definition," he pondered for a moment, before launching into his story again. "Anyway, when the townsfolk refused to listen, they found her suddenly surrounded by crows. She was seen talking to them, laughing with them, dancing with them."
"So, they thought she'd gone crazy," Elena concluded sadly.
"They did, and they locked her away. When the hurricane hit the city days later, it was some of the worst devastation Toronto had ever seen. Legend has it, however, that her lover was able to survive with the aid of a crow, who led him down the safest paths to avoid the worst of the flooding."
"They were her familiars," she breathed. "So, you could have several." Then her eyes visibly brightened. "Will you?"
"Thinking about it," Damon grinned, mentally summoning his crow to him and letting him sit on his shoulder, where he eyed Emma curiously. "Instead of choosing between a raven and a crow, maybe I'll get both this time, and teach them to get along. Having both their strengths can help me go a long way."
Elena smiled at Emma affectionately, a little overwhelmed by the near immediate attachment she had to the avian. "What ever happened to Carlie?"
"She died – under mysterious circumstances, apparently – which could really mean anything. My guess is that a witch hunter got her," he replied with a touch of sadness. "She revealed herself. So now all these hopeful lovers sneak into the abandoned hospital and leave statues of crows at an altar that someone made for her, hoping to keep their paramour safe."
"That a guiding crow appears when needed," Elena finished, then allowed a teasing smile to twist her lips. "Damon, are you saying you want to break into the hospital and leave some a crow statue behind so Carlie would send her familiar to watch over everyone you love?"
Damon scoffed, removing a leaf that fell into Elena's hair. "No, silly. We're going to break into the hospital and terrify the locals," he replied with a mischievous grin that only seemed to grow in size.
Since the break-ins typically happened after sunset, Damon and Elena spent the rest of the day training and bonding with their familiars.
Once the crimson hues of the sunset disappeared beyond the horizon, however, the two vampires and their corvids stole into the house, using all the stealth offered by their supernatural prowess. When the first batch of hopeful adolescents noisily broke through the hospitals entrance, it was showtime.
"Amateurs," whispered Damon to Elena, as a smirk caressed his handsome face and he urged his familiar to take flight, followed swiftly by Elena's launch of Emma.
They waited until the candles at the altar were lit, maximally elongating the incoming shadows.
As the two birds' shadows gave light to their actual appearance, horrified screams warning of Carlie's return filled the night, lost to the echoes of Elena and Damon's joyful laughter.
"Emma" goes out to all my OUAT fans! ;) Obligatory reference to pirates not only because I love them, but also because Emma's in love with one, too. Also, Damon would make an awesome pirate! :D
Damon and Elena's prank is inspired by "no, silly – to sit in the back, and throw popcorn at hipsters!" :D
Elena's twirl is inspired by the super-adorable one she did in "Bloodlines."
There seem to be a few competing schools of thought in the TVD fandom community about what blood-sharing actually does, but I've always found the idea of it allowing the vampire to see into the essence/feelings of the other romantic. The added bonus in this story is that this ability kind of grows over time with the same partner.
Giuseppe Salvatore was the absolute worst – and when this was revealed in S7, I found it disturbing on several levels. I feel like it's something the show should have dealt with – because you don't just drop a bombshell like that for shock value and walk away.
I covered this briefly in Serendipity, but I feel like since Damon's healing journey is such a big part of this story, it absolutely had to be addressed here, too. I really feel like Giuseppe (and to a smaller extent, Lily) is the biggest source of Damon's then reluctance to love himself. Everything else kind of built on that.
In general, I suppose it really bothered me that Damon possibly ended the show hating himself. I feel like after his redemption arc was more or less complete in the mid-seasons, it was time to focus on his healing and self-love journey, instead of rehashing the tired good/bad brother dynamic. When a show takes great pains to take shots at a character's self-esteem, it's important for the show to take responsibility and repair it – not just kind of leave him hanging. So, here we are. :D Let's do what TVD didn't, and help Damon learn to love himself!
Damon revealed in S5 that Elena had a psych textbook and was taking a philosophy class. I'm going to have a lot of fun with that info. :D (Probably more so with the philosophy, 'cause that's' my jam! Well, one of them. :D Ethics philosophy here and metaphysics in TW.) I also imagine she probably took a bio class, since she's planning to become a doctor.
Nature is one of the most – if not THE most – prestigious scientific journals ever. Ever. An aspiring medical scientist/doctor would absolutely be interested in reading that. They have an enormously high standard of quality for their accepted papers.
On to considerably happier news, I finished Serendipity! Sorry that it took a while. It can sometimes be difficult for me to write the last chapter. There may be an epilogue forthcoming eventually, but I marked it as "complete" for now, anyway, because it more or less is, either way. For those unfamiliar, it's an AU in which Amara makes a different choice and, through serendipitous circumstances, falls for Stefan's sexy older brother (I'm sure you can guess who he's based on), significantly changing the course of her universe (so no doppelgängers) – with massive ripple effects. Features elemental time witches with a new magic system! :D Damon and Elena are both witches in the story. It makes sense in universe, I promise. :D
Scarlett2112 once asked how they would know which birds were the hybrids, so that started the deep-dive of research. But then I realized that compulsion is probably akin to clairsentience – an emotional power – and it would make more sense for them to just feel different. So, you get the best of both worlds! :D
If anyone's curious to read more about these odd corvid hybrids, the University of New Mexico has the paper on their website. There are also a few blogs.
I'm still trying to think of a good name for Damon's familiar(s), but I'm open to suggestions! Just as a note, I'm staying away from Gothic Romantics in this case. :D (i.e., anything related to the works of Poe, Bronte, Wollstonecraft-Shelley, Baudelaire, and the like.)
While the corvid hybrid stuff is true, I made up the hospital's urban legend, though Hurricane Hazel was real and absolutely devastating for the region. Carlie's story is inspired by the tragic figure of Cassandra from The Iliad and its surrounding plays, whose predictions were ignored to the detriment of her and all those around her.
Big hugs to fandom friends, old and new. Thanks for the support – especially for listening to me talk about planned plot points – to Kriz03, scarlett2112, and Florencia7.
I'd be absolutely delighted to hear some feedback, so please leave a review! :D