#Honestly i feel like it works best if he burned his bridge in thunder several times over

[bonefall]

the cats of the park is just frostpaw finally getting some therapy

tbh tho I feel like them being separate from clan life would help her immensely. They’re not so wrapped up in this culture of battle so they have a new and refreshing perspective (and also frost doesn’t have to worry about ulterior motives because they are STAYING AWAY from THAT trainwreck that is the clans)

RE: Nothing in BB!ASC is set in stone until the arc is done BUT

One excellent thing ASC has done with the Park cats that is commendable, is that they're treated as legitimate. Not inferior or malicious. They're just another culture that Frostpaw is going to learn from. The bar is UNDERGROUND but we've finally hopped over it.

So I'd want to keep and acknowledge that.

I think I might have an interesting idea for Frostpaw's journey. Also, side note... I'm thinking BB!ASC will rename every book because these titles are actually awful, im sorry. So I'd call this one ASC: The Source of the River

Gonna jot these down;

So, to begin with, Frostpaw calls the human. While being heavily sedated, she has her first vision of Riverstar.

FROSTPAW DOES NOT HAVE A SPECIAL CONNECTION TO STARCLAN.

She NEVER would. Screw that. Instead-- learning to connect to this vision of Riverstar, to her ancestors and their wisdom, is a SKILL she would learn.

Frame the journey less as Riverstar's Side Quest and more as Frostpaw chasing the Revelation she had while anesthetized.

So when she wakes up, she's thinking about how incomprehensibly VAST Riverstar was. She can't even imagine how there's enough space in the world to contain such a being.

Even the Lake itself... the lake is just a droplet, being suckled like a kit on the teat of the Southern Inlet river

For a second, her troubles seemed like a small flea on the nose of a great, cosmic being. But as she reconnects with the mortal plane after her dream, the flea becomes an infestation. She doesn't know where to begin, or how she can save her Clan.

She thinks back to Riverstar. The river that feeds the Lake. Was that what he was trying to tell her? That she has to follow it to the source?

STOP 1: RIVER WARD

The BB!Tribe is massively overhauled. The Tribe of Rushing Water defines themselves as three Wards (Cave, Mountain, River), connected by living on the same stretch of river.

From them, she learns about connections. They are simply able to call upon each other for all they need, there's no need to "appoint" someone to manage everything.

Families and friends hold each other accountable, networking and negotiating constantly. When the group must act as one, it casts stones.

Their Stoneteller is a religious leader, but all cats connect with their ancestors by personally interpreting omens, even without needing to go see him.

(Contrast to BB!Clans, whose Clerics are the KEEPERS of holy knowledge, and it is a sin to interpret StarClan's will on your own)

Yet, there are downsides. She can see ostracised cats who skirt at the edges of the Ward, especially the descendants of a particular group (called Flicks) that she learns once tried to invade the River Ward.

Though they welcome travellers and have a positive view of Clan cats as "family," she learns that they freeze out those who break taboo. Even for smaller offenses-- social faux pas and personal disputes have caused rifts within the Ward.

And the personal omen interpretation means that two cats can try and justify their feelings with religious commands, leveraging any "soothsayer" (particularly religious cats) connections they have like a social pissing match, unless they're both willing to get dragged to Stoneteller.

From all this, Frostpaw learns that she CAN connect to Riverstar and her ancestors, even if she can't speak to them... and that she must LISTEN. Not allow herself to twist her ancestor's words.

And all the Wards are connected, by the source of a river. Suddenly she answers her question.

"How could the world be big enough to contain a being like Riverstar?" Because water isn't all in one place. It's everywhere. It pools where it can and flows where it cannot.

And yet-- a single people is connected by its water. Three wards, one River. Five Clans, one Lake... three siblings, one belly.

Her heart aches thinking about Curlfeather.

She thinks of when quarreling Tribemates are brought to Stoneteller to arbitrate, and be taught the truth. Brought up the river, to its source at the waterfall.

That has to be it! The source, the BEGINNING.

Stop 2 would be WarriorClan as she heads south, but I'm not sure what they'd teach her yet lmao. Monkeystar says "Hi! Do you want to learn how to play a kazoo"

STOP 3... I'd want to rename the Park Cats. Maybe the New Park cats.

(evil brain: "Neopark. Make terrible petsite joke. Be reincarnated as a lotus flower)

There would also be a BIG recap of Ancient Park culture, and the River Kingdom. Frostpaw knows they had KINGS.

And a lot of aspects that modern Clan cats have-- ceremonial sparring, mentors and apprentices, the Law of the Deputy... those came out of the River Kingdom, before its collapse in the Code Era.

But these cats are NOTHING like the glorious tales of a Kingdom warrior. In fact... this is THE park!

THE park that was destroyed, which King Arc-of-Park lead his people away from. How could it have been ruined if it's still here?

(Reality: the Park was shrunk and landscaped. It was destroyed in that time to the perspective of cats. Maybe she'll have some visions of the past through meditation...)

But the survivors, and those who chose not to follow their King... they remained. And they continue to thrive.

Like canon, have them teach her the ability to meditate. Unlike Tribe cats, meditation is about SIGNS, not OMENS. Omens are physical. Signs are psychic.

(Also i like Bee so im probably gonna keep him as Frosty's yoga coach)

She sees Riverstar a few times, has details of Curlfeather's scheme revealed to her in enough chunks to piece together,

but is eventually bowled over when her best, most productive meditation yet... results in a black shadow.

He has a shining pearlstone adorning his head, and deep, wet pools for eyes. Very few other features can be made out, besides his paw, which is shockingly normal compared to his wraith-like body.

Somehow, Frostpaw understands she is looking at a Patron. But she doesn't know who he is until he tells her, he is King Arc-of-Park.

Though remembered, he is not invoked often. The details of his appearance are lost. All that remains of him is his paw-- carried on in a few expressions and the -paw suffix. The one which Frostpaw herself currently bears.

Since Riverstar, his beloved son, so rarely speaks in straightforward terms, he has come to give Frostpaw her answers.

But before she speaks, trembling with desire for finally FINALLY getting the truth, almost frozen by the sheer volume of things she needs to know, he stops and tells her,

"You have earned the truth, Frostpaw. Be not afraid to ask for what you are owed-- but we only have time for three questions, and I shall ask three in turn."

Question 1: "What did you need me to learn?"

"Many things. How to find your own answers. The perspective of the thousand eyes you've met. The wisdom that only a pilgrimage can bestow. I, too, was no leader before I brought my people up the river, and now you too must save RiverClan. Have you learned what we sought to teach?"

She feels unsure... "I don't think I can know if I have, until I go home."

Even though he has no mouth, she can hear his smile, "That is a yes, child."

Question 2: "What am I learning about RiverClan and its history, if these New Park cats are nothing like my Kingdom ancestors?"

He hums, "You have come to the source of the river, and are vexxed to not find the water that is already swirling downstream? No cat stands in the same river twice, for it is not the same river, and they are not the same cat. Are my people gone, Frostpaw, or do they live on?"

Stunned, her jaw hangs open ever so slightly. She thought she knew the answer right away, but his simple question becomes a riddle on her tongue.

He tells her not to worry. She does not need to answer his questions immediately, as they're running out of time. Ask your last.

Question 3: "...did my mom love me?"

IMMEDIATE, "she did. Child of my distant blood, she loved you like a king loves his prince. Ferociously, ambitiously... selfishly."

He cradles her face in his one, massive, silk-soft paw, like he's reaching out of the shadows, across time itself. His last question, "She put you in a terrible position, didn't she?"

A lifetime's worth of love and agony bubbles out of the kid, "SHE DID. She DID and I never did ANYTHING to deserve this, I did everything she told me, and I just wanted to make her happy, and... and i miss my mom."

When she returns from her trance, she's crying.

But her companions are here to help her unpack all of what she just learned.

Will probably end up letting her recruit a little DND party lmao... maybe one cat from each pit stop. Heartstar shouldn't be the only girlie who's allowed to get expansion packs.

Make a little found family here that Frostpaw returns home with.

RE: NOT. CONFIRMED YET. NONE of this is BB canon yet. Just thoughts I need to get down.

[elidelochans]

I think this is the right way to do it... Brave Enough by Lindsey Sterling for Jude and Cardan

Here ya go hun! enjoy and I’m too tired to think up a title so let’s just call it...

Brave Enough

Jude strolled into the apartment, an odd sort of smile plastered on her face. She moved with a slight bounce jumping into the microfiber couch. Grabbing a handful of popcorn from the bowl sitting on the coffee table. Tossing each piece in her mouth. She was acting differently. Happier than usual. Honeyed colored eyes were ablaze. She looked like she said something to say and given her actions, it was good news.  Cardan glanced up from his book, watching her with curiosity at first. Until his gaze fell on his lips. Watching how her deep crimson lips moved as she chewed. Followed by her pink tongue sweeping over her top and bottom of her mouth. Swallowing thickly his throat bobbed and Cardan felt his heart hammered at her beaming smile. He wouldn't, he couldn’t let her know that her very presence around him brighten his day. Instead, he looked at her out of the corner of his eyes. Acting as if she disturbed him.

“What’s with the face Duarte? Make some kids cry?” Cardan teased, flipping another page in his book, “And get your popcorn.”

“I would, but why when there’s a perfectly good bowl here?” Cardan huffed out a response. Sometimes she couldn’t believe they’ve lived together for two years when she acted this way. Like Jude owned everything including him. In a way she did. But that was his secret., “I didn’t make anyone cry either,” she clipped.

“Then...are you going to tell me? Or are we going to play guessing games all day?”

It was this moment her excitement turned nervousness. As if she was nervous about how he’d react to whatever she’d say. The only thing he could think of was that she would be moving out. Panic started to fill him at the thought. He didn’t want to go a day without food stealing, messy roommate, the intoxicating scent of blackcurrants that was so undeniably Jude. Cardan couldn’t imagine missing drunken take out nights and trashy tv, then passing out on the sofa with her. There was nothing worse than her moving out. The pang in his chest hit him harder than he cared to admit. Least of all her. Yeah, it was their as prominent as the sun shining through the windows of their lofty condo. Or as real as Jude and Cardan. Jude moving out was something he wasn’t ready for. Being honest with himself. He wasn’t sure if he’ would ever be ready.

“I have a date. On Saturday,” Jude confessed.

Cardan sat upright, closing his book and blinking at her, opening and closing his mouth several times. Oh. This was worse.

“With who?” he questioned sitting the book down.

 He wasn’t paying attention, focusing on Jude, the book fell to the ground hitting his foot. Cardan swallowed the pain. It didn’t matter. The throbbing pain was nothing compared to his insides twisting in agony. His pulse quickening. It fell like someone took the very air from his lungs.

“Locke Liriope.”

Oh, mother above. This was only getting worse. Locke was once Cardan’s best friend and old roommate. Until he found him in bed with his then-girlfriend. Cardan moved out, finding Jude. In the beginning, Jude stressed him out and infuriated him every day. 

Clothes everywhere, Dishes stacked, wet towels on the bathroom floor. And she always forgot about the laundry in the washing machine. He spent the better part of the first months playing maid and arguing with her. He wasn’t sure when it changed. When she started getting better at it and treating Cardan like a roommate instead. They still had their squabbles over chores, tv, bills, books, and who’s cooking next. He fell into a domesticated rhythm with her. Before he knew it, like a thief in the night, Jude had captured his heart. Now she isn’t even aware of the death grip she has on it. 

How that very name squeezed blackened his heart. Cardan could feel each beat slowing as Locke’s name off her lips reverberated in his mind. Jude was pulling him down like an anchor in the sea. If only he could tell her how he felt. To summon up some form of bravery and say those three little words. They worked so hard on being friends. That it was best to keep the thought to himself. What they had now, this beautiful friendship, he was too scared to lose it. And now. Now it was too late.

Jude clicked her tongue, standing from the sofa, “Cool. I at least expected you to say something witty if not congratulations. I’m happy for you. Silence honestly-”

“You can’t date him. He’s a cheating asshole,” His voice turned venomous as he spat out the words. Cardan stood towering over Jude.

She scoffed resting her hands on her hips, tilting her head as she glared at him, “ You have a say in this why?”

 A burning flame into those honeyed eyes. Good. let her be filled with fury and rage. Cardan ran his fingers through the thick, inky strands trailing down to rub the nape of his neck while shrugging nonchalantly in the process. His mind and heart working as one, for once in his miserable existence. Both shouting at him to tell her. He wasn’t good at listening. Never was.

“You don’t want to know,” is the only reply he gave and it made him want to drag his palm over his face for the stupidity of those words.

Jude worked her jaw, folding her arms tightly across her chest. Her face remained expressionless, “What?” she stood there facing him. The air between them thickening with tension like a dense fog. Jude pinched the bridge of her nose, “Let me get this straight. You didn’t ask me to not go on a date. You told me,” she seethed, tone rising and filling with anger at each word, “ When I asked you why. You said I don’t want to know. Are you jealous?”

Yes

Cardan scoffed in disbelief, “I’m not jealous Jude. Out of all the people in the world, Locke is the one I won’t be jealous of.”

“Right,” She responded, clicking her tongue. A cold flame in her eyes, “Well if you have no reason then I won’t be around Saturday night,” She turned to leave.

Cardan grabbed her wrist. She turned around to face him holding his gaze. His heart thundering wildly in his chest. Wanting to tell her she deserves so much more than a date with that cheating bastard. Maybe a date with him. The words fumbled over his tongue. He hated feeling so damn cowardly about this. At least he could tell her about NIcasia. 

“Okay wait. You remember I said my ex cheated on me.”

“Yeah. With your roommate what does that have to do with anything?” she snapped, once again glaring at in his direction.

“He let out a breath, “Locke was my roommate. They were seeing each other behind my back for three months. I found them in my bed.” Jude wants to wrap her arms around him. Take away the hurt that lingered in his tone. 

Eyes black as night searched hers, holding a different emotion that made Jude’s stomach flip. Gingerly, he cupped her face, trailing a thumb along the edges of her cheekbone. Neither was sure when they moved closer, breaths mingling. The fog of tension slowly disperses around them. Slowly Cardan drifted his gaze to her full red lips, pink tongue sweeping over them. Jude fluttered her eyes close, tilting her head. Cardan pressed his lips to hers. It was soft, warm, and far too quick. Like a breeze in summer.

“Please don’t go on this date Jude,” she could hear the brokenness in him. The remainder of a pain long past, the implication of her going on a date with someone would break his heart in two. 

Cardan wasn’t brave enough to tell her the words he longed to say. Not yet. He hoped with his confession and a touch of his lips that she knew.

*********************************************************************

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[imagine-loki]

Return

TITLE: Return CHAPTER NO./ONE SHOT: Chapter Six AUTHOR: theterrifyingtermite ORIGINAL IMAGINE: Imagine that, at the end of Endgame, Loki comes back. Only one problem: this isn’t your Loki. RATING: T NOTES/WARNINGS: Nothing too dramatic here. Four more to go!

Chapter Six:

I’m sorry, he had whispered once to her, suddenly, and with a misery she had not heard in weeks.

She had paused mid step, pulling him back when he tried to move away from her and led him off to the side of bridge, out of the way of other travelers.

What on Asgard did he mean?

There was hesitation in his posture as he leaned against the railing, reluctant in his tone.

Sorry because she was hidden away. Tucked out of the way, like a forbidden fruit incapable of being brought forth into the light. Like she meant nothing more to him than some private escape, or a fantasy-

He was always more dramatic the more melancholic he felt.

Lifting a hand, she worked her fingers through his hair, hoping her smile was comforting.

She knew she was more than a castaway toy. In time, they would know what to do about it and how to change it.

Until then…

She wrapped her arms around his waist, feeling the automatic rise of his own to return the embrace.

Until then, they could have this peace.

___

They were sitting at her table.

She and the God of Thunder.

“Hi, I’m Thor. Doctor Strange told me about you and explained everything,” he had said immediately after the door had opened. “Thank you,” was also blithely offered as he swept past her, setting down the large axe that had been dangling from his belt and hanging the hammer on a hook concurrently.

Her brow had furrowed. “I’m not sure he would be the best source,” she had muttered, following him as he meandered down the hallway. “What are you doing here?”

Thor had merely exclaimed, “Ah, here it is!” as he turned a corner and found her kitchen. “Light! And chairs! Precisely what we need.

“Oh, where are my manners?” He had pulled out a chair, waved a hand theatrically towards it as she trailed him into the room. “Do sit down. Do you need to put your feet up? Can I get you anything?”

Reeling, she had dropped into the offered seat, and then had watched as he went digging through her cabinets, chirping things such as “cups!” and “fizzy water!” until he was satisfied and had returned to the table.

He had set down three glasses – “Not sure which one is your favorite! Don’t people have favorites?” – and several of the afore-mentioned bottles – “Do you ever mix kinds for different flavors?” – before dropping into a chair across from her, folding his arms, and beaming at her.

And thus, they were sitting at her table.

She and the God of Wonder, blunder, hunger? her mind supplied rather unhelpfully, as she could do little else but blink at him in a mixture of bemusement and, if she were honest, annoyance, as he procured a package of cookies he had whisked out of nowhere.

“I have to say, I’m not sure I understand everything, and I was honestly overly excited and not listening entirely, but I am so happy to finally meet you.”

He was like a puppy.

A bouncing, energetic, full-blooded Golden Retriever.

Meanwhile, all she wanted to do was play the Snapping Turtle in the face of his unbridled enthusiasm.

Maybe it was the look on her face.

Maybe it was the fact that she had yet to really answer him.

Several more seconds of awkward silence, and the bubble of cheer that Thor had brought with him deflated rapidly.

“Don’t you have anything to say?” was the question, offered in a much lower tone as he drooped in his seat.

Did she?

Oh, there were so many things she had wanted to say. Things of the past; things that had haunted Loki every step he took. She had always wanted to take Thor and shake him into sense.

And yet, staring into the eyes of an elder, grieving brother, she could sense he had been doing what she had for the past five months.

Grieving.

Coping.

Though for him, it had been over five years.

Sighing, she reached out across the table, a hesitant smile quirking up her mouth as Thor’s face brightened immediately once more.

He quickly latched onto her hand, thumbing the back of it over and over and over again in a gentle, sweeping motion.

Watching his movements, feeling his grip tight and unyielding, she finally, really looked at him.

“Hi,” she breathed.

“Hi,” he grinned back.

___

But what if you just told him? She had asked him one day, as they sat in front of a fountain, eating ice cream.

Well, she had been eating hers, cup quickly emptying while her sober companion had been brooding instead of partaking, leaving his to puddle in the fading summer light.

A shrug. An incoherent mumble.

Loki, she had half-sung his name, nudging his shoulder with her own. If he was actually honest for once, why wouldn’t Thor forgive him? Why wouldn’t he understand?

But, no, it was far too complicated for that, apparently.

There was too much to get past.

He never would.

Never.

She had stared straight ahead at the dancing water, scraping her bowl clean of any chocolate-peanut butter remnants.

Silence. Then:

Would he not?

Setting aside her trash, and removing his from his hand, she had tucked herself under his arm as it wound absently around her shoulders. Well, he wouldn’t know unless he tried, would he?

There had been a sigh, and then his head had tilted to rest against her own. If he did, it would mean the end of the way things were. Things would have to change. They couldn’t stay the same.

Everything would have to come into the light or nothing at all.

There had been an opportunity for her to be hurt; to be angry that it seemed he wanted to hide her and keep her tucked away, out of sight.

But she knew it was because he was safe here. Things would change, but if it meant he was no longer hiding, then, well…

Still, she had persisted in return to his bemoaning, wouldn’t it be worth it? It meant no longer having to hide. To be whom he was.

Because, she had added after a quiet moment, reaching up to turn his face gently until he was looking her in the eye, he was worth loving just as he was.

___

They had talked the rest of the morning and all afternoon.

She had shared what she could; pouring everything Loki had told her out to Thor.

At first, she had a keen sense of betrayal, but she tamped down on that.

All she could do was tell him of her Loki.

Whether or not it applied to the one who had fallen into their universe was up to him.

They weren’t the same man.

Even if she wanted them to be.

In turn, Thor told her stories of Loki as a child, filling in the blanks of his perspective when one had been something her Loki had told her.

They laughed.

She cried.

Thor denied that he did, even if he sniffled once or twice and rubbed at his face.

In the end, she found herself eased into a pleasant state of forgiveness. Thor was willing to recognize where he had gone wrong, and she was already well aware of Loki’s own failings in communication.

It wasn’t difficult to see the depth of Thor’s hurt, and the pain his past judgments now caused him.

He had asked her of her pregnancy; quizzed her on things of which he was unsure, stared; eyes wide when she recounted the earlier months. Glowered, brows drawn as she hunched her shoulders and told him of the first few meetings with Loki.

But, as she made sure to point out, it had been drastically different after the brothers had spoken with each other.

Plus, she didn’t honestly think Loki would ever really hurt her. Panicking after a traumatic experience was only natural. She had come to realize the last time that he had been checking up on her – not the baby, but her.

As far as apologies went, it wasn’t all that great.

As far as all was concerned, she would take what she could get.

Cheered once more, Thor promised to come and visit her when he could, had made her promise to keep him updated through, surprisingly, e-mail.

When he admitted he had needed one to make accounts for video games, she laughed harder than she had since the Blip, the child wiggling in response.

When he asked rather sheepishly if he could rub her stomach before he left, she tried to roll her eyes.

Instead, she found herself nearly melting as he instantly dropped to a knee after her assent, placing a hand on the center of her stomach. He whispered for a moment in an otherworldly language, delight flashing across his face as he felt the infant kick.

His family.

As she was now, apparently.

Then there came an announcement that it was time for him to leave. She looped her arm through his proffered one as they made their way outside once more, Thor promising to look after her as best as he could.

“Make no mistake,” was what he finished with, turning back to face her – smile fading in brightness to something a touch more melancholic, “if you need anything at all, I will do whatever I can in his stead. I know it is not the same, but…” A shrug. “Please let me know. And if I see Loki again, I will try to get him to come check in on you more often. I believe in his heart he is a good man.”

A nod, and a smile. “I know.”

Waving, she watched as Thor spun his axe around, one more toothy grin flashing her way.

Definitelyagoldenretriever.

Gasping, she shielded her eyes at the explosion of light as the Bifrost opened up once more and swept him back to the place from where he had come.

Come to think about it, he never did say.

Not that it was any of her business.

Suddenly feeling oddly bereft and utterly alone, she crossed her arms tightly over the swell of her stomach, glowered briefly at the intricate design burned into her grass, and went back inside.

She was not going to start feeling sorry for herself now.

The rest of the evening passed by much more quietly.

Too quietly, almost.

Before the blustery entrance of her child’s Uncle! that had suddenly struck her, she had never noticed how quiet it was before.

Music, then, and she would carry on.

Five months and four days left.

She could make it.

She would.

___

What do you do when I’m not here? he had mused one night, flashing a teasing smile to her.

Twilight was approaching; the glow of the sun had long since faded.

A hand passed over her arm resting on the table between them.

Fingers entwined with her own.

Miss you, she had dimpled in response, earning a rare peal of laughter.

[mutantsrisingrpg]

Congratulations SARA! You’ve been accepted as HYPERION.

From start to finish, your application truly captivated me, Sara! I loved every bit of Gerrard- sorry, Bermudez’s (since we’re not friends and all) story, because you truly made him your own and brought him to life. It felt as if he could be his own stand-alone character, a protagonist of his own show or movie or something, and I am eager to tune in! He brings such a unique element that I can’t wait to see shared on the dash.

Welcome to Mutants Rising! Please read the checklist and submit your account within 24 hours.

Out of Character Information:

NAME/ALIAS: sara

PRONOUNS: she/her

AGE: 18+

TIMEZONE & ACTIVITY LEVEL: gmt – active every 2 days-ish? about ¾ days a week

In Character Information:

DESIRED ROLE: hyperion

GENDER/PRONOUNS: cis-male, he/him

DETAILS & ANALYSIS:

La Tormenta – His ring name couldn’t be more accurate to the person that he is. Unpredictable, dangerous, destructive. Growing up, he had learned to fear people outside of his family for most of his childhood. When this fear came true, it was replaced with anger and hatred. They were the things that fuelled him and became a large part of who he was. An angry, hateful boy in unimaginable pain, but the pain kept him alive and it made him grow. With pain came power for him, and after he left the place that hurt him so much, there was no getting rid of it. It became deep rooted in him. He was always angry and always looking for something to hate, and most of all he was out of control. A storm destroying anything in his path. After being taken in by the Jem Family bruiser, however, he learned more about who he was than he ever had before. His mentor taught him how to control those overwhelming feelings, and with that control he became the most powerful version of himself. Inflicting pain was somewhat fun for him, especially when he was getting paid to do it. He’s learned the ways of words and business. He’s particularly savvy when it comes to recruiting fighters and seeking information. He controls the storm, letting it out when he wants and onto whom he wishes. He controls the underground, and he controls his fighters. Sometimes his abilities can get away from him, but his fighters fear his power sometimes, and he loves how that feels. With a silver-tongue and an eye for business, being a bruiser for the Jem Family really is his happy place. Even so, the man endured horrors over his lifetime and he still holds a lot of pain and trauma. The doctors call it PTSD, but he’s sure he’ll get over it. He can do anything. Or so he tells himself. Trust is still hard for him. His smart mouth and cocky attitude make it easy for him to push people away, especially those that might even care. He’s married to the business, he tells himself. And he likes it… he tells himself.

BIO:

Tw; torture, murder

Chaos was part of him. Chaos was always by his side, haunting his memories and influencing his dreams. He seemed to be running first, running so fast in the beginning, adrenaline in his veins and blood in his ears. They were running from their life, from their homes. No, not home anymore. They were running to their new home, a place full of glamour and life. It offered so much more than their previous home. His parents dreamed of jobs, and friends, and a life they had always wanted for their son. But they were always running from something. From their home first, then from the people that wanted to send them back there. America wasn’t all smiles and open arms like they had thought. America was full of hate and death. Rather here than home. It was years of chaos, school was dangerous, so lessons were at home; neighbours could report them, so they kept our heads down; the law was always behind them, so they ran as fast as they could. One day, they didn’t run fast enough. He remembered his screams, his mother’s cries, his father’s pleas as each one was taken into strong hands, too strong for his feeble mother and his ageing father, but not too strong for the power he held. The power he didn’t know he had. He knew something was always different about him, but he needed something special to pull it out of him. He needed fear, and he needed anger. And in this moment, he had never felt those emotions so strongly, and it burst out of him in a storm of fury. The city went dark. His fingertips buzzed. His parents looked at him like they had no idea who he was. The lifeless bodies on the floor were still hot with electricity. He felt his own body fall, weak in the aftermath of his own outburst, and darkness consumed him, too.

He awoke to white. Just white. Walls, sheets, clothes, lights. White-hot rage. White knuckles. Where are my parents? Where am I? What’s happening? None of his questions made it out of his mind, but they were shortly answered. Your parents are gone. You’re in a government facility. You are going to be tested and prodded and cut open and tortured for our own benefit and pleasure. Yes, he learned that all too quickly. Fear, he knew. Anger, he knew. Hate, he learned. Ten years in this place, and his uncontainable amount of hate was all he had to show for it. That, and several hundred scars. After a while in his lonely rubber cell, the days blurred together and the torturous experiments became a mundane chore. He was thankful for the pain, as it was the only thing that kept him strong. He wondered if it was the only thing keeping him alive. Then he felt it, building in him like a storm again. Thunder was crashing in his mind and soon his body would do the damage. The echo of chaos was swirling in him once again, and again, the city went dark. He saw his opportunity, and he ran. He ran like he always remembered running. Ten years of practicing his powers, learning his way around the facility, building up enough power to take it all down. Ten years and he was finally free. With nowhere to go.

It seemed like he never stopped running. Another enemy behind him, but how many enemies were ahead? He learned not to trust anyone, to keep his head down and deter anyone he met from wanting to know more. He became bitter and hateful, and it worked. For months, he remained lost. Living on scraps he stole and sleeping under bridges seemed like the best it would get. Should have just let them kill me, he thought. But, he kept running, just like his parents taught him. He ran from one city to the next, never in the same place for too long. Until he stumbled across a community in Chicago; the first group of people he ever felt like he belonged to. The Jem Family. Their hate for humans and their experiments were as deep-routed as his, and they knew as their eyes traced his scar-littered body and the tremble of trauma in his fingers that he belonged there. He still refused to ever trust anyone, but the one person that came close was the ‘bruiser’ of the Jem Family, who turned him into somewhat of a protégé. He fought for years in that underground. La Tormenta, they called him. The Storm. Unpredictable and powerful and electric. He learned a lot during his time in the facility, but his mentor taught him something he had never been shown before; control. Chaos was enough to cause damage, but controlled chaos meant causing whatever damage you wanted. He liked that. For years, he was the undefeated champion of the underground, earning a room and a place in the gang when he was ready in return.

And when it came for his mentor to retire, Gerrard was more than ready to take up to role. He knew this was his place in the world. He knew he no longer had to run.

EXPANDED CONNECTIONS:

Kiara was certainly a challenge for Gerrard. It wasn’t often he was faced with a challenge, but his ego did love the chase of one and the victory of completing it. He had yet to complete this one, however. Kiara was slippery, and she was strong, and he knew that she would keep away from him as long as she wanted to. It angered him,a nd frustrated him, and yet still he could never pull away. It was a strange obsession of his, though he would never admit it was for any reason other than to recruit her. It wasn’t her he wanted, just her power. Knowing the Kings Collective had someone as powerful as she and yet the Jem Family couldn’t even get their hands on her was… annoying? No, exciting. The thought of pursuing her and turning her to them was exciting. He feels like a lion trying to catch the fastest gazelle there is. Plenty of others to go around that would be easier to catch, but nothing compared to the ultimate prize. He couldn’t deny that she enticed him, so much so that the thought of her ate at him almost daily. He would get her, one way or another.

EXTRA: This section is completely optional.

I don’t have any edits or anything ~yet~ but I have a few headcannons!

-        He prefers that people call him by his last name as it feels far more business-y. his first name is too friendly, and he doesn’t do friends

-        He’s a lil bit of a hound-dog if you know what I mean

-        His body is quite literally covered in scars and marks from his facility days, and some even from his fighting days

-        He has lighting-shaped burn scared on his fingertips from his power use

-        Diagnosed PTSD but believes he’s better than that psychological bullshit so rarely takes his meds and then gets triggered by things like drill noises, white rooms etc.

-        Has amazing control over his powers until certain instances when he gets too emotional then all hell breaks loose

-        La Tormenta is his ring name meaning the storm, it’s also his ‘bruiser’ name for those who have heard of him

-        His parents are alive, they got deported back to their country (Guatemala), but he hasn’t sought them out and doesn’t intend to. He’s pretty much pushed them to the back of his mind

-        Fluent in Spanish and English

-        He’s not very academically smart. He was homeschooled until fourteen and then went to the facility so he does struggle with things like academia and reading

-        Huge chain smoker, honestly his lungs aren’t okay

-        Sexually very fluid but honestly will just sleep with anyone that shows interest

ANYTHING ELSE: nope!

[edream93]

I’m Hooked On All These Feelings (Harry of Auradon AU) Part 9

Hey everyone! Sorry that I haven’t updated since October. It was a combination of being stuck and just having a lot of different stuff going on in my life. I’m honestly not 100% satisfied with this chapter but let me know what you all think. This is also posted on on AO3 or FF.net. Here’s the link for Part 1 , Part 2 , Part 3, Part 4, Part 5,  Part 6 ,  Part 7, and Part 8 of the story so far.

TRIGGER WARNING: There are some abusive elements in this chapter. Nothing too detailed but if you’re uncomfortable with that but still want a basic summary so that you can continue on with the story, just message me or shoot me an ask.

She was laughing at her.

She. Was. Laughing. At. Her.

She was laughing at her.

(Why was she laughing at her? Didn’t she care? Didn’t she knew what it did to have someone who was so integrated into your soul to laugh at you?)

The mocking laughter followed the half-fae as she slipped down the wharf, arms frantically pinwheeling as if the air would become solid, providing something that would halt her slippery path.

Disbelief quickly turned into anger once she was able to grab a railing along the side of the wharf, keeping her out of the shark infested waters. The laughing that had followed her suddenly turned into worried shouts colored with concern but that still didn’t cool her fiery ire.

No one was supposed to be laughing at her.

She wasn’t supposed to be laughing at her.

“You give her too much freedom,” her mother had mentioned offhandedly once or maybe a hundred times before. “She doesn’t know her place. The hierarchy of life. That she is untouchable only because she is yours.”

And Uma was Mal’s, claimed from the very first time they met.

Mal swung herself silently back onto the wharf, just behind Uma’s frantic form searching over the side of the wharf, ready to jump into the shark infested waters. When Uma’s voice was tinged with worry, with fear, Mal preened at Uma’s concern (“For me. Only for me,” she thought.) before reaching out and tapping the teal haired girl on the shoulder.

The look of relief on Uma’s face was addicting and on this wharf surrounded by the dregs of the Isle, Mal found it too precious to share with anyone else. So she poured a bucket of shrimp on her best friend and laughed at her as she had just been laughed at.

Fair is fair after all.

By the end of the day, everyone had heard of Uma’s new nickname either through the spreading gossip or by the smell alone.

“Shrimpy,” everyone, even Ursula, called her. Because “Uma” was something that Mal wanted to hoard all to herself, in name...and in person.

Uma was Mal’s.

It was never said but everyone knew it.

A week after the incident at the wharf, Mal watched as the Gaston twins shoved Uma to the ground, doing it again when she tried to get up. They laughed as mud and other Isle filth covered the girl, mingling in with the shrimpy scent that still lingered. They taunted her with crude and horrible words, punctuated every so often with their fists.

“Seriously, Mal? Again?” Jay sighed from the wooden crate he sat on with a practiced tone of boredom, despite the tension in his body. He tossed a knife he had pocketed earlier off of one of Shan Yu’s men into the air, catching it’s hilt it with little effort. “Why let Dumb and Dumber mess with your claim?”

Mal rolled her eyes. She thought he would get it. That he would understand the need to keep what was his close and under control. After all, though he denied having anything to do with it, there was a reason why Cruella’s sniveling little runt never got anything more than a little rough housing at school from anyone other than herself or Jay after the thief had seen a beating taken too far nearly kill the boy.

“Because she needs to be reminded of how things are run so she doesn’t forget her place,” Mal casually leaned against the crate. Somewhere deep inside her she purred that her Uma bit back each scream and groan she was inflicted.

“I still don’t get it,” Jay mumbled irritatedly. “Wasn’t that the hole point of dumping shrimp on her? She’s weak. Why not just move on and forget about her?”

She fumed. “You don’t need to get it,” Mal crossed her arms. If he didn’t get it, then it wasn’t her job to explain the rules of the game, the hierarchy of the Isle that was her birthright as Maleficent’s heir, how a part deep deep within her craved both for Uma’s affection and pain.

Jay let out  frustrated sigh, glancing over as one of the Gaston twins, shoved the small teal hair girl into the side of the building, a loud crack heard even from their distance.

“They’re going to break her,” Jay tossed the knife deftly back and forth between his hands. A nervous tick, Mal noticed.

“Get rid of them,” she ordered and for once, Jay didn’t fight her. He merely hopped down from the crate on quick silent feet, scooped up several large pieces of rocks, and tossed them with easy aim at the twins. The two boy’s thick necks swiveled towards his direction, scowling as he gave them a one finger salute.

Mal didn’t even watch as Jay took off laughing as the Gaston twins forgot their prey, chasing after the quick footed thief and his taunts. Instead, she made her way towards what was hers until she was crouching in front of the crumbled semi-conscious form of her favorite plaything.

Uma’s left eye and cheek was swollen and angry looking, her bottom lip split, and if the shallow breathing indicated anything, her ribs may have also been bruised as well.

Despite the beating, despite the taunts and cruel names, her dark brown eyes looked at Mal fiercely, never wavering.

“J-just...kill me.”

“Don’t worry,” Mal said taking Uma’s chin in her hand, her face softening. “That isn’t what I want at all. You’re mine after all. No one will take you from my side. No one,” she promised just as the other girl fell unconscious.

  ---

“Do not give me that greedy little look of yours,” Maleficent closed her eyes exasperatedly, pinching the bridge of her nose. She had to remind herself that her tadpole of a daughter was just a limo ride away from getting her off this damn Isle. She couldn’t kill her...yet... “I have already told you, Mal. You cannot bring your little pet with you to Auradon.”

“Then I guess I’m just not going.”

The entire room went silent, and if it wasn’t for the fact that there was no magic on the Isle, Mal would have sworn that the crack of thunder that shook the decrepit remains of the Bargain Castle was her mother’s doing.

“Mal,” her mother purred with so much sweetness in her voice that the hairs on the back of Mal’s neck stood to attention at the hidden danger.

The Mistress of Darkness pushed herself from the makeshift throne she had regally sprawled herself on, sweeping across the room, all patch worked cloak and squeaking floor boards towards her only spawn. Mal held her breath, jaw clenched as her mother’s twig like fingers grasped bruisingly her jaw. Jay, Evie, Carlos, and their parents were long gone, off to go pack and plunder and cause some last minute mischief before the royal limo arrived for them.

It was just Mal and her mother.

No one was there to witness the dark fairy’s hand move from her daughter’s jaw down to her neck with inhuman speed and strength. Mal choked, tears already beginning to burn against her glowing eyes, chipped black nails digging futilely into her mother’s unrelenting grip.

“Now you listen up, naughty girl of mine,” Maleficent smiled cruelly, bringing Mal close to her face. “Everything you have is because of me. You live because, at the moment, I wish it so.” A pale bony finger traced down Mal’s cheek, a poor counterfeit of affection. “Not one little tangled purple hair on your hornless head has been touched by the filthy vermin that scurry around this Isle because of me.”

Without warning, she dropped Mal with a push, turning around as if she couldn’t bare the sight of the girl struggling to fill her lungs with air.

“I don’t do it out of love, but as a reminder. Do not cross me, girl. There are worse things than death, and I am one of them.”

Mal glared at her mother’s back. Outlined by the dim light that managed to get through the dust coated windows, Maleficent looked like shadows breathed with life and the essence of all the nightmares that plagued Mal every nightmare.

(Scratch that. Her mother made her nightmares look like blissful dreams.)

“Bring your pet and its...toy,” Maleficent finally conceded

Mal bit the inside of her cheek as she got up to her feet. Before the smirk could grow on her face and she could sneak out of the castle, Maleficent called out to her.

“Remember, heir of mine,” she sighed over her shoulder, as if she found the task of talking to her own flesh and blood tedious and beneath her. “If you fail in getting me the wand, you are replaceable, as tiresome as that would be to cultivate a new heir.” Her glowing green eyes connected with Mal’s. “Don’t forget that, my dear.”

Mal’s teeth ground against themselves but she didn’t say anything else, knowing that she was dismissed. She slipped out of her mother’s castle, tugging the collar of her jacket up high to hide blooming hand shaped bruise on her neck. Keeping to the shadows, she took alleys and cut through nearly abandoned buildings until the smell of rotten fish, rum, and seaweed hit her like a wall.

Ignoring the leering gazes of the drunken pirates, Mal plowed through anyone who was in her way as she stalked through the Isle’s usual scowling crowd. She didn’t even pause when she came to the entrance of a building that looked like it was one weak wind of being blown away. Instead, she pushed through the set of swinging doors. The rowdy noise of the shady establishment instantly silenced at her grand entrance. All eyes were on Mal.

The sounds of pans and canisters dropping on the floor along with Uma’s curses and Gil’s bumbling apologies were heard from the beyond the kitchen doors before the object of Mal’s search came stomping out, scowl set deep on her lips as she tossed a tray of undoubtedly half rotten food in front of a customer.

Mal smirked internally when Uma freezed in her presence, catching the minute way the other girl seemed to shrink at the sight of the half-fae. Mal preened at her attention.

“Pack your things, Shrimpy. We’re heading to Auradon to steal a wand.” Her green eyes narrowed at Gil’s much larger form standing dutifully as always behind Uma. “Your idiot too, I guess,” she snorted before leaving, not even waiting for a response.

Uma would come. Afterall, she was Mal’s. And no one would be able to take her from Mal’s side. No one…

...except for a young sailor with eyes as deep as the sea.

---

“I hope you understand the difficult position recent circumstances have put us in.”

Mal tilted her head to the side. Her face scrunched up in confusion as she looked at Fairy Godmother. “I-I don’t understand, ma’am,” she frowned, worrying her bottom lip.

Fairy Godmother cleared her throat. “I am referring to the disappearances of Uma and Gil and their apparent connection to Harry Jones’s unfortunate magical induced visit to the school’s infirmary. We have still yet to find them and have no way of knowing whether they’ve attempted to go back to the Isle or not. All we have to go on is the evidence from Harry’s room when he was found and Prince Ben remembering you offering him a cookie,” the headmistress said pulling out a plastic bag with a half eaten cookie in it. “A cookie that we found, upon further inspection, to be laced with a love potion.”

“I- We had nothing to do with that!” Mal exclaimed, leaning forward in her seat. “I mean- I mean…” she paused,hands covering her face before a choked sob escaped her lips as she brought her legs up to her chest. Her hands moved from her face to clutching her hair tightly in trembling fists.

Fairy Godmother gasped, startled by the girl’s sudden tears.

“She was my best friend. Uma was my best friend and she...she...lied to me!”

“Oh dear heart,” Fairy Godmother got from her seat, moving around her desk to place a calming hand on Mal’s shoulder. She was startled when Mal suddenly clutched onto her, sobs growing stronger. For a moment, the woman didn’t know what to do, seconds seeming to drag before she put a hesitant but reassuring hand on top of the girl’s purple head before her maternal instincts took over and began stroking Mal’s head soothingly.

After a few moments, Mal’s sobbing began to settle down a bit tas she clutched onto the older fairy’s powder blue suit. “I had told Uma-,” she sniffed. “I had told her that I thought Prince Ben was cute. I mean, he’s so kind and-and good!” Mal laughed wetly, pulling away slightly to wipe at her nose with the back of her sleeve. “Ben’s...so, so good. There’s no one like him on the Isle. I couldn’t help but fall for him. Uma saw that. S-she said I should make cookies and give them to Ben. That she would help. I-I get so f-flustered around Ben sometimes that she said it would be a good idea to have an icebreaker. We made the cookies together but I didn’t know she put a love spell on them. I would never do that to Prince Ben. Never. I want- I want to be good. I-”

“Shh-shh, dear heart,” Fairy Godmother pulled a handkerchief from her pocket, wiping the remainder of Mal’s tears. “Obviously Uma and Gil have deceived us all. I’m so sorry you had to go through something like that. To have put your trust in the wrong person.”

Mal nods, giving the woman a shaky smile. “Thank you.”

Fairy Godmother spent a few more minutes doting on the girl before letting her leave the office. Mal gives the woman a wave and a small smile as she leaves before turning back into the hallway where Evie, Jay, and Carlos are waiting for her.

Her smile melts away into a sneer once the doors are closed and it’s only the four of them in the hall.

“Idiot old fairy,” Mal spits before tossing Jay a used menthol stick that he had swiped from one of the theatre kids that had trouble crying on cue.

Mal didn’t even look to see if the others were following her as she stomped through the halls of Auradon, hands twitching at her side, green sparks dancing dangerously at her fingertips at the thought of Uma and what she would do once she got her hands on her.

Her mother had been right. Uma had never understood the hierarchy of life and her place below even the very bottom in it. 

But that was Mal’s fault, she acknowledged. She had been too soft. Had bruised Ursula’s spawn but never really broken her. It was a mistake that she would be sure to never make again.

After all, there are worse things than death, and Mal would make sure that for Uma and her little sailor, she would be one of them.

[blficarchive]

✨ ABO Fic Rec ✨

Hi yall! This is my first fic rec post it’s a good way for me to keep all the fics I’ve read and liked together in an organized way! I’m actually really excited and I hope at least someone likes this because these are some of my favorites! If anyone has any recommendations or suggestions feel free to message me! :’)

~ Cold Little Heart by seducedbycurls

Summary:

Louis is a soft omega with an abusive past and an alpha child

A few months after getting a divorce, Louis meets Harry, an ex-military alpha wolf that offers him something -odd.

In exchange for teaching him how to cook, Harry will babysit his son, Abraham

Louis really could use the help.

~ Love is like this; not a heartbeat, but a moan by angelichl

Summary:

“He hates this, more than anything in the world he hates this. His title, his rank, his DNA. Unchangeable. Fated.

And then there’s Harry, born to be unobjectively superior to Louis and all other O’s. Unlike other A’s, Harry doesn’t wear his alpha-ness very well. He’s clumsy with it, like walking around in a pair of shoes a size too big. His life is defined by uncertainty and tentativeness, and those are definitely not qualities alphas should have.

Sometimes, when Louis ponders it for too long, he thinks that maybe Harry resents being an A just as much as Louis resents being an O.”

In which Harry loves Louis, but Louis has been cold to him ever since he presented as an omega at age fifteen.

Eight years later, Louis approaches Harry with a request, and who is Harry to deny him?

~ Just My Style by Anonymous

Sunmary:

Harry is sick, and the only thing that might help him is the pheromones from his mate–problem is, he hasn’t got a mate.

Louis’ just been disowned, and taking part in a medical study where he has to cuddle with some strange alpha seems to be his only option for earning a bit of cash.

The hippies and Omega Rights campaigners are busy changing the world–but all Harry wants is a chance to live.

~ Gentle Autumn Rain by alex4968

Summary:

Louis Tomlinson moved to London with a big heart and a big dream. Harry Styles moved to London, fresh out of the police academy, with the hopes of helping as many people as he could in his eyes. When a deranged alpha forces their paths to cross, their ideas of what is meant to be will never be the same.

~ Kiss me on the Mouth and Set me Free (but please don’t bite) by seducedbycurls

Summary:

Harry is the CEO of Flora Corp, Louis is his new secretary.

“…Louis wanted him so badly. Wanted Harry to pick him up, bite him, and break him. Make Louis his, make Louis cry, make Louis a beautiful, plump, pregnant omega…”

~ I’m On the Hunt Now (I’m After You) by AFangirlFantasy

Summary:

Omegas haven’t been able to shift into their wolves for two hundred years. That is, until Louis Tomlinson changes everything. 

Or…an AU where Alpha Harry and Omega Louis have a lot more than falling in love to deal with after The Mating Ceremony.

~ If I don’t have you (there’ll be nothing left) by SadaVeniren

Summary: 

“What is his problem?” Louis demanded as he stalked around Niall and Ed’s kitchen. They were gonna have a pow-wow and figure out what was going on with Harry.

“Maybe he can’t pop a knot?” Niall suggested.

“Ew,” Liam said.

“Doubtful,” Louis said. “He seemed perfectly fine up until his friend pulled him off of me. Also I may have called him a knothead earlier in the night and he didn’t make a single comment to me about it.”

AKA Louis thought after meeting Harry at a party everything would fall into place. If only life worked out that nicely.

~ Something to Prove by trysomecats

Summary: 

Louis is the first and only omega to work at Red Valley Medical Center. Despite being more than qualified, he still faces prejudice for his career choice everyday. From patients refusing his treatment to condescending alpha doctors intervening with his work, practicing medicine in Boston is more challenging than Louis had ever thought it would be.

~ where the lights are beautiful by twoshipsdrifting

Summary: 

Harry wasn’t wrong about that, not in a general sense. Lots of omegas did seek out rich alphas and betas, hoping or planning to go into heat at the right time. Plenty of omegas saw this as their duty, especially if their families weren’t well off. Worse, Louis couldn’t honestly say he’d never thought about it. If that had been his life, his goal, Louis would feel pretty good about himself now. As it is…Louis feels like shit.

.:. .:. .:.

Or the accidental bonding a/b/o fic.

~ Breathe For Me by trysomecats

Summary: 

“Harry Styles?” A voice called out, and Harry blinked in shock as he was assaulted by a sweet, luscious scent. There was an omega standing in the doorway, and his looks certainly matched his smell.

Or, Harry is an alpha with a severe phobia of needles, and Louis is the cute omega phlebotomist who needs to get a blood sample from him.

~ Do You Like My Sweater? by kiwikero 

Summary: 

“Look, for a Sadie Hawkins dance the omegas are supposed to invite the alphas instead of the other way around.”

Niall and Liam shared a look. “That… sounds like the sort of thing you would usually be all over, Lou,” Liam said, face pinched in confusion. Niall nodded his agreement.

“Yeah, if omegas were hosting it,” Louis replied sourly. “It’s one thing if we decide that we’re going to ask the alphas for a change. It’s insulting that they think we need their permission.”

When Harry’s alpha fraternity decides to host a Sadie Hawkins dance, outspoken omega Louis has a thing or two to say about it.

~ Mark my word (we gon’ be alright) by harioandlouigi

Summary: 

“He’s always known that there would come a time when Harry would bond with some beautiful, quiet omega, and they would have lots of curly-haired pups and live happily ever after.

Knowing it and living it are two very different things, though. Watching the object of your affection desperately search for a mate and completely disregard you as an option is all sorts of painful, but it is what it is, and Louis is just going to have to learn to live with that.”

Or, an A/B/O AU featuring an oblivious Harry as the pack leader, a pining Louis as his second-in-command, and an entourage of friends and family who are a little too good at keeping their mouths shut.

~ Like Candy In My Veins by littlelouishiccups

Summary: 

“Um…” Harry said slowly after a moment. “Okay. That’s… this is… Let me get this straight.” He lifted up a hand and swallowed. “You told your family that you have a boyfriend… and my name was the first one you thought of?”

“Harry Potter was on TV, alright? It wasn’t that much of a stretch.” Louis pinched the bridge of his nose. He couldn’t believe he was explaining himself to Harry fucking Styles. He couldn’t believe he was stooping this low. “Forget it. I’m sorry I even thought about bringing you into this.”

Harry snorted. “What? Did you want me to pretend to be your boyfriend or something?” (Basically the A/B/O, enemies to lovers, fake relationship, Christmas AU that nobody asked for.)

~ roll like thunder, burn like stars by hilourry

Summary:

In a world where the hierarchy of society is omegas and they get to pick their alphas. Omega Louis really wants Professor Harry Styles as his alpha.

~ You’ll Hear Me Calling for You by pinky_heaven19

Summary:

“I don’t know, I don’t know you,” Harry said with a shrug, knowing his replies were dumb but not able to think of anything better to say. “You don’t know me either, so I don’t know why you’re acting like this,” he said, slouching on his seat.

“Oh, but I do know you,” Louis replied, raising his eyebrows in a gesture of disdain.

His attitude made Harry stare at him in confusion. Had they met before and he didn’t remember? Was that why Louis was mad?

“You do?”

“I know the likes of you,” Louis said with a shrug of his shoulder.

“The likes of me? Excuse me?” Harry was offended and confused.

“Alpha males who enter cock first in any room and think people should bow to them or some shit like that,” Louis answered bitterly.

OR the one where Harry is an Alpha and Louis has a problem with it - until he doesn’t.

~ friends don’t kiss me like you do by larrysoulmates

Summary:

Omega Louis is a teacher at a primary school. He gets a student teacher, an alpha named Harry, to observe his class. Louis thinks they are just friends, but they are much more.

~ As deep as the sky by swallowsmateforlife

Summary:

A passed-out omega on the bathroom floor isn’t exactly what Harry had in mind when he thought about taking a cute boy home. The idea of leaving Louis there, vulnerable and unresponsive, weighs guiltily at Harry’s conscience. Turns out it’s the best decision he’ll ever make.

~ Swim In The Smoke by whoknows

Summary:

“What about this, Captain?” Liam asks, nudging the boy kneeling between their feet with the toe of his boot. The boy hisses and swipes at him, slurring out something unintelligible around the makeshift gag Niall had to stuff in his mouth. He misses by a mile and tries again, just as ineffectively.

Harry looks down at him, at the way the sun streams over his face and shoulders, at the way the gag stretches his mouth, lips pink and chapped. He’s lithe and pretty, smudged all over with dirt. They had found him tied up below deck, mostly unconscious, next to a barrel full of gold. He’s clearly a prisoner, but there’s something familiar about him, something that niggles at Harry’s brain. Something he can’t quite put his finger on.

“Put him in my cabin,” Harry decides, turning back to deal with the rest of the loot. The boys screams out jumbled curse words at Harry’s back, muffled by the gag, and Harry can’t understand any of it.

~ Going Nowhere Alone by SS98

Summary:

Nothing can save you from the night, and if it can then it was born there.

* * * * *

There’s Harry, Edward and Marcel. Harry serves as pack leader to the last remaining house of werewolves. Edward, his brother, finds joy in sex and banter with strangers. Marcel plays along for as long as he can before morals corrupt his act.

Louis romanticises life so it doesn’t seem as shallow to him. Being Omega isn’t a joyride but three Alphas are determined to change that.

[redlemonz]

Day #26

Slept in for a bit today after marathoning that new Marvel show last night and finishing it. Certainly the only sort of marathon I could sadly participate in and accomplish. Nonetheless, it was a superb (ba-dum-tsh) show anyway, and especially really great when it came to enlightening me with some fictional false hope for my own life. I wasn't use to the fact that I was awake into such late hours of the night without her presence either, because it's the only usual time I would generally be. The loneliness burned stronger within me as a result.. I can't help but always feel so incomplete. I woke up to the sound of my phone vibrating, as my brother in law was ringing me to ask if I could come over to hang out with the nieces because they have some stuff to attend to, and he's still recovering from a recent surgical operation so is unable to actually be involved in many activities at all. Of course I was happy to drive over and spend time with the cute little ones, and well, I have nothing else to do anyway. I've already disbanded myself away from my friends after all, and haven't really heard from people. A part of me was still reluctant to go over though, because I didn't feel as stable during this late morning - it's one of those days where I miss her so damn much, more so than usual, that I couldn't help but withdraw a stream of tears which melded into the waters pouring out from the shower yet again. I keep thinking about how unfair and silly this all is, that we shouldn't even be apart when it comes down to the wire, that it's so easy to make this work now - but that's not my decision to make in the end. The damage has already been done in her eyes and is irreversible. Honestly speaking, I actually broke down quite a bit this morning, internally and externally, so I was a bit afraid as to the atmosphere my presence among my nieces would offer. But no - of course I'd temporarily shove all that into a separate corner of my head, even if my heart still bleeds, because I still gotta fulfil my duties to be the best uncle ever. Especially because I may not be able to fulfil my dream to be the best father I can some day. And so I did - I got riddled with hugs, cuddles and kisses from the younger ones which made it all pretty worthwhile. As nap time arose for the two little ones, I tweaked the definition of fun for the seven year old, as I spent nearly a couple hours teaching her some basic mathematics instead. Why in the hell would I voluntarily propose to even do that? Because I know she has the capability and interest to actually learn, and I'm not gonna waste it by poisoning her mind with Pokémon all the time (even though I've probably done it enough). She's smart, yet humble, and I want to help guide her from the sidelines into being the best her she can. So I'm not ashamed to admit that I actually enjoyed the feeling of teaching her the usefulness of decimals, fractions and percentages as they would apply in real life situations - especially when it comes down to knowing whether you're getting your fair share of cake and pizza. Day 26 - Holding my own hand Thunder. Another wonderful afternoon filled with the raging echoes of the skies, that soothe my soul and resonates a sense of balance within me. It's my only real friend that understands me during these troubling times, and it's ironically quite pleasant for it to come visiting two weekends in a row now, in the absence of my best friend being with me anymore. Reality knocked me down even harder than usual today actually, as on my way back home I had to take a detour and pick up some medicine from a specific pharmacy in a certain area. The familiarity of the streets and route sunk me, as on literally any other occasion I'm use to driving in this area, It would mean visiting her or picking her up. Knowing that her house was right there just brought back all the memories, which even though initially resulted in a smile, also felt somewhat tarnished by my current circumstances and ability to ruin that timeline from continuing. From the roads, the shops, and the best Thai takeaways to the nearby basin at which we'd walk bbt together, and the park in which she'd introduce me to my very first flying fox experience (yes, I didn't have the same sort of childhood experiences gosh) under the stars at night, it all started hitting me. I relived all the occasions in which I had spent and even unofficially lived several days at a time in that house with her, and it now just felt like shit knowing that it'll never be the same again. I've been cast out of that life of happiness I had, and her gate will permanently remain shut for me now. I miss it all so much, and I keep imploring to wake up from this damned nightmare that I've brought upon myself. I do have to admit (again) that I'm so fucking sick of myself, especially the constant whining and self-pitying that I know I don't deserve, but I can't help or control any of it. It's the most sane part of my insanity that keeps me going, and provides me with the visibility to eventually cross that bridge. I'm still waiting for the shock to wear off too, which is kind of even more troubling and frightening, considering it's now 26 days later. This all regularly just feels like one massive mistake or misunderstanding that shouldn't have ended the way it did, and I keep hating it and myself more and more each day, knowing that I led it to this very conclusion. In the spirit of punishing myself further, I've decided to rewatch one of my favourite analytical films, Ruby Sparks, which I know I've mentioned before. It's satisfying within this thunderous weather to receive another encore in this on-going barrage of internal pain, as I can gain a decent glimpse of understanding and reflection upon the sort of evil that I am. The unrealistic happy ending of this damned movie where he is blessed with another, undeserving chance after all his fuck ups will truly hurt me even more - and I want it to, which is why I march into this world with full knowledge of the suffering I'll be deservingly dishing out to myself, because I despise me. Moments after hating myself through rewatching that movie (probably isn't worth the details any longer), I walked outside in an attempt to view the stars, though it was a bit of a cloudier night. I thought about all the moments in which we'd laid upon the beaches and parks as we would gaze at the beautiful wonders which were beyond our reach. I remember affirming with myself during each of those heavenly moments that I was the luckiest man alive, as I was graced with the most beautiful star of them all, right there next to me, shimmering as bright as ever. So as I shivered and was on the verge of creating another hypothermic memory in my present day, I looked out into that night sky to relive and feel some sort of connection with her. Don't ask me what that necessarily means if it's weird or confusing - I can do some of the strangest and most random shit sometimes, and attempt to accordingly justify that it's got some sort of additional meaning, even if it's just a plain greyish sky right now. If anything, the sky tonight is just reminiscent of myself with its basic, undecorated and boring display on hand. It's simply ugly, has nothing to offer the world, and is certainly not worth waiting around to see it ever change for, even if it constantly attempt to shine. The light beyond it is so ravenous to take centre stage, but is ultimately shielded by the overwhelming dominance of the dark grey clouds. I wish that my soul could merge with this darkness of this night, and be purged from this sinister torment that corrupts it. The broken remains continue to annihilate me, and the fragments continue to sharply stab away at my mind and heart. I've already reached the point where I've whole heartedly (ha) invited in the emptiness, because I don't care anymore. Though even stIll, I channeled the inspirational light which she's granted me that remains, and managed to cumulate a little bit of faith from behind the darkest clouds of my soul. Even though I'm not sure what that word means any longer, as I'm of the living, breathing hypocrites who denounces it through his general actions and mistrust in others on a daily basis. In my desperation my hands joined together for the first time since I can ever recall, and with my eyes shut, I selfishly begged to be forgiven for all my sins - past, present and for the 'mistakes' yet to happen. I begged for another chance at redemption, so that I can emerge as the person I wish to be - for her, for others, and for myself, and sealed my amen with a single teardrop which landed against the rough ground on which I knelt. I can't bear to admit that this was an act of prayer, because it wasn't. I have no right to utilise that word in this or any regard, when all I've ever done is uncharitably taken and never given thanks in return. I'm not worth listening to, or worth taking another chance on, or worth anything whatsoever anymore. I've already betrayed my faith in God, just as I betrayed my faith in her.