#a prequel fic where they accept and take him in in the first place

[obiwan]

Hi! I just started watching the Star Wars prequels and I want to read some obikin fanfictions but I don't know where to start so if you have any recommendations for me I could really asappreciated.

Have a good day/night!

Hii! I keep saying I'm going to do this because I have so many messages like this - and what I usually try to do is leave the most "famous" ones out of reclists, because most likely everyone has read them, but they were also the first ones I've read. So I will try to do a combination of both new and old fics which I consider "classics". Also a reminder that I have already posted this this & this before. And oh boy this got long.

✰(Explicit, Complete) When the Abyss Stares Back at You  by skyl_tales

Pausing the holovid, Mace looked from Anakin to Obi-Wan. "This holovid was taken on planet Revoran two days ago."   In the holovid, the golden-eyed Anakin looked at something just out of frame. There was something distinctly hungry and possessive about that gaze. It made a shiver run up Obi-Wan's spine--because he recognized that look. He'd seen Anakin look that way at Senator Amidala.

But it wasn't Senator Amidala who stepped into the camera's view. It wasn't Senator Amidala the Sith yanked closer and kissed.

It was Obi-Wan.  [Obi-Wan and Anakin are sent to investigate the sighting of a Sith Anakin, who appears to be in a relationship with an older version of Obi-Wan.]

This is one of my favourite Obikin fics, and if you enjoy time travel shenanigans chances are you will enjoy this too. skyl_tales wrote some of my favourite fics for this fandom, so if you enjoy this, I suggest you check their other work as well!

✰(Explicit, Complete) If I only knew by wanderlove

Newly knighted Obi-Wan Kenobi and his padawan, Anakin Skywalker, have been sent to Ryloth on a simple diplomatic envoy. While there, an unsettling incident causes Obi-Wan to look at Anakin in a new light and re-evaluate…everything.

The Galaxy will never be the same.

aka: "come for the obikin, stay for the tzai and deep emotional discussions that dismantle every single misunderstanding in the prequels."

Beautiful story!!!! This is honestly one of the most wholesome and "fix-it/what-if" kind of canon obikin fics I've ever read. I really really recommend reading this if you're just getting into Obikin and the SW-verse in general.

✰(Explicit, Complete) Moonlight Serenade by Lemon (@renlyslittlerose)

“Glad you came,” the man said. He pushed away from the lamppost and approached Anakin, his hand held out for him to take. “I realized I never properly introduced myself. I’m Major Kenobi, but you can call me Obi-Wan.”

Anakin took his hand and shook it, their touch lingering for just a little longer than was normally acceptable. It felt like holding on to fire. “Flying Officer Skywalker. But most call me Anakin.”

An accident in 1944 over the fields of France puts an end to Anakin’s flying career. Discharged and sent back to Canada, Anakin must confront the ghosts of his past and find a new path forward.

This is a WWII AU - so beware of that in the first place, but I have always enjoyed historical AUs, and this is very beautifully done. It spans over a long time (my favourite) and does it so well.

✰(Explicit, Complete) To Eden by Unfortunate17

Accused of masterminding the Jedi Temple bombing, Obi-Wan is expelled from the Order.

Anakin is left to pick up the pieces.

This fic. THIS FIC!!!! I don't have anything to say about this - read this fic (in fact read everything written by this author - they have a bodyswap fic called Gray Matter) I really enjoy their characterization of both Obi-Wan and Anakin and the story telling is amazing. Truly love them.

✰(Teen, Complete) Don't be Afraid. by spqr

Tainted by your encounter with the Sith, you are, Obi-Wan imagines Master Yoda saying. Fix you, we cannot. To the AgriCorps, you shall return.

“Padawan Kenobi,” Yoda says, after a moment. “Complete your training, Master Skywalker will.”

Another reverse AU! I realise this is one of those 'either you love it or hate it' tropes, but I do love it, so I include it in my recs. I enjoy imagining the scenarios of Jedi Master Anakin and Padawan Kenobi, so if you think that's something you would also enjoy, give this a chance!

✰(Explicit, Complete) Fearless and the Negotiator by @zimriya

Anakin Skywalker is a superhero. He spends his nights roaming the streets of Coruscant alongside his superhero partner—a man called the Negotiator whom he has never seen without a mask, and yet whom he loves desperately all the same. By day, Anakin works an uneventful nine-to-five at Jedi Inc., doing his best to remember that he cannot murder his coworkers—even if they are called Obi-Wan Kenobi and are the literal worst.

A superhero AU!!! I love his au because it's so well done and so well thought out (the details in this!!!) and I love enjoying Obi-Wan in white spandex. Like that's my bread and butter right there. Either way, if you enjoy marvel-esque superheroes and Obi-Wan and Anakin is the usual idiots they are, give it a go <3

✰(Explicit, Complete) if you love me, let it remain unnamed by @tennessoui

Obi-Wan Kenobi is grappling with his failure to protect his padawan from Dooku's blade. As the galaxy around them plunges into civil war, he overcorrects and refuses to allow Anakin's Knighting ceremony in order to keep him by his side where he will be safe.

His padawan is less than pleased.

Only trying to help, the Force overcorrects Obi-Wan's overcorrection and pulls them into an alternate universe where they run into a different version of Anakin Skywalker altogether.

But Obi-Wan Kenobi is also grappling with new, sudden, and insistent feelings for his padawan. He overcorrects by following the older version of Anakin into bed.

His padawan is less than pleased.

The Force….lets them figure this one out on their own.

OBIWAN GETS TAG TEAMED. OBIWAN GETS DOUB- [gunshot] Look, this fic is hot but beyond that, I loooove time travel shenanigans, and Anakin being pissed off at a future version of himself is so delicious.

✰(Explicit, Complete) Lex Talionis by @intermundia

The ancient Galactic Republic is dying slowly—an ugly death of corruption, sprawl, and decay—with the sin of slavery hanging over its every triumph. The beleaguered Jedi Knights are too few to adequately patrol and police the entire Republic, and are faced with complacency and greed at every turn. Born into a crumbling and stagnant galaxy, Obi-Wan Kenobi and Anakin Skywalker are faced with the greatest challenge of all: themselves.

Obi-Wan likes rules and control. When the galaxy around him stops playing by the rules, what is a Jedi to do? Anakin needs rules and restraint. When the galaxy around him conspires to set him loose, what is his Master to do? Falling slowly or falling fast, falling through lust or falling through wrath—it all leads to delusion and moral decay. What can be born from the ashes?

Or, how Obi-Wan and Anakin fell to the dark side, obtained their revenge, and saved the galaxy in the process.

An insane canon-divergence AU, this is so intricate and could truly be a movie of its own lol. It features (eventually) sith! Obi-Wan and sith! Anakin, so beware of that, but I don't want to spoil that story. Also that I would never rec any story that has a sad ending :)

✰(Explicit,A/B/O, Complete) i shouldn't cry (but i love it) by blahzarry

Obi-Wan knew alphas that liked to be taken existed. He knew it was possible. But not once in his life had he felt even tempted to try it.

...It's exactly what it says on the tin. Once again one of those: either you will love it or hate it kind of tropes I think, omegaverse is what it is. If you're familiar with it and the idea of an Alpha Obi-Wan growing to enjoy submission sounds like up your alley (it is mine,) then by all means!

✰(Teen, Complete) that mouth of yours looks like it gets you into trouble by @tennessoui

Obi-Wan Kenobi inhales a powder that compels him to tell the truth, the whole truth and nothing but the truth. Good thing Obi-Wan doesn't have any secrets.

or,

by god, Obi-Wan Kenobi is forced to talk about his feelings. It's, on the whole, regrettable for everyone involved. Or it would be once everyone stops laughing about it.

Fairytale tropes! I've always loved truth serum/truth spell trope where one party is obliged to tell the truth. Add one repressed Obi-Wan Kenobi into the mix? Perfection. I looooove this fic so much, it's wholesome and touching at the same time.

✰(Explicit, Complete) The Bottom of the Ninth by @ragnarlothcat

"No baseball pitcher would be worth a darn without a catcher who could handle the hot fastball." - Casey Stengel

Obi-Wan Kenobi is the veteran catcher of the Coruscant Jedi, a talented baseball team that have been down on their luck. The addition of rookie pitcher Anakin Skywalker might be a sign all that's about to change.

Especially for Obi-Wan.

Lmao anyone who knows me a *little* bit knows that I have an obsession with sports aus. This is no exception. Granted I know *nothing* about baseball, but this was a perfect balance of actually explaining the sport without getting too heavily into details and making it a perfect obikin story. WE 👏 NEED 👏 MORE 👏 SPOTS 👏 AUS 👏

✰(Teen, Complete) the sound of your voice (helps me find peace) by izazov

It was a promise to Qui-Gon Jinn that had allowed Anakin Skywalker into Obi-Wan Kenobi's life. But it was Obi-Wan Kenobi who had allowed Anakin Skywalker into his heart.

OR (more accurately):

Five times Anakin had to ask for a story. And one time Obi-Wan offered it freely.

Ahhh this author, this fic. It's so beautifully written, canon compliant au, and it just hurts (in the most beautiful, gut wrenching way). It's beautifully melancholic, I always love their works even if they leave me with a pang in my chest.

✰(Explicit, Complete) Conceal Me What I Am by @himboskywalker

Separatist Propaganda is turning the Republic against the Jedi Order and the Senate sees no choice but to join in a political alliance to fight dissent on a unified front.An alliance is proposed through an arranged marriage,between a Jedi Knight and Republic Senator. Anakin Skywalker and Obi-Wan Kenobi are chosen as representatives of the political union by Darth Sidious, meant to bring ruin to the marriage and the public's support of the Jedi,for Obi-Wan Kenobi is not the Beta he claims. But even Sidious does not know of the secret Anakin Skywalker keeps, that he is not the Alpha the galaxy believes him to be.

Another omegaverse fic!! This time with omega Anakin and alpha Obi-Wan in disguise. I read this fic eons ago (read: when I first got into the fandom) but it always stuck with me, because I love sneaky stuff like this - also it's plot driven! It's an au but within the same universe, so again, if you don't have anything against omegaverse, give it a read.

✰(Teen, Complete) we should run after each other (and be with one another) by Resacon1990

Even though he’s still full of anger and rage, he pushes it all aside to force a smile and squeeze Anakin’s shoulders.

“No, Anakin,” he says quietly, “I could never blame you for his death.”

It’s the first time Obi-Wan ever lies to Anakin.

or

Five times Obi-Wan lied to Anakin, and the one time he told the truth.

Another 5+1 fic!! I love this fic, also semi canon compliant, and very much gut wrenching. I love this kind of story telling where we get to see the span of their lives throughout 5+1 thingies. This is a beautiful story <3

✰(Explicit, Complete) Swear On It by dirkygoodness

Anakin lets his feet take him a good ways from camp before he actually stops, breathing fast from the memory of his dream.

He squeezes his eyes shut tight against it and holds his breath for a moment, trying to get himself under control. Tonight it doesn’t seem to be working, though, because the images of people he knows and loves hurt and bloody and dead just won’t get out of his mind.

YOOO - this is one of the first fics I've read in this fandom and oh my god. It's kind of PWP - but the characterization, the feeling, the EMOTION. It's all there. It's a two parter - read them both, it's so good, it's one of those fics where I read it and I was like. Oh yeah this happened in canon.

✰(Explicit, Complete) Bare grace misery by @thedunesea

Anakin let out a pained sound. “I failed my men, I failed you, and now… and now this. Could you, Obi-Wan? Could you come from this humiliation?” His voice broke, and then he was weeping, hot tears streaming down his face even as he kept stroking himself, his sobs of shame intermingling with his whimpers of pleasure. The mixture was so unbelievably erotic Obi-Wan felt his head spin.

Or: Anakin gets poisoned, and the antidote that saves his life has some uncomfortable side effects.

Ahhh, gorgeous fic! Have to say the only version of Dom!Obi-Wan I enjoy is Gentle!Dom Obi-Wan and this fic does it justice! It's such a nice read - I love some self shaming Anakin and Gentle! Obi-Wan guiding him through those feelings.

✰(Explicit, WIP) toss overboard what is too heavy to carry by @tennessoui

In the aftermath of the Clone Wars, Palpatine dead and untold tragedy averted, the Republic struggles to heal and rebuild itself.

Anakin Skywalker and Obi-Wan Kenobi attempt to do the same with their own relationship, riddled as it has become with betrayal, distrust, and hurt. It's not going too well. Desperate and unwilling to accept that maybe their friendship is ruined, Anakin finds a counselor they can talk to, one that specializes in healing "teams."

Or, as the counselor would probably put it, married couples, which they are decidedly not. Not that she knows that though. And not that they know that she thinks they're in a romantic relationship either. What a silly assumption to make. It's not like they're more intimate than lovers or anything.

I know I recced this before, and I'm usually against that but lol. This fic, this fic truly holds such a special place in my mind, it fits in SO WELL with the headcanons I have of Obi-Wan and Anakin, the little questionnaires they answer in the end of each chapter - the EVERYTHING. I'm not even exaggerating this fic is what's keeping me tethered to the obikin fandom atm. I really get a bit stupid when Kit's fics are involved, she is probably the author who got me hooked on obikin, so I would suggest checking out her work in general. I could rec anything and everything from her.

✰(Explicit, Complete) You can call me baby (You can call me love) by @lilredghost

Four times Anakin calls Obi-Wan an old man, plus one time he realizes how much it bothers him.

I love Sub!Obi-Wan who loved being called baby and who is also a bit insecure and this is why this fic is here sue me.

✰(Mature, Complete) Fringe believers and hopeless wanderers by iiscos

A Jedi falls in love with a kind, but poor mechanic aboard the luxurious, ill-fated R.S.C. Terranova.

A Star Wars/Titanic AU

A titanic AU!!! I love this so much, (it does have a happy ending) and the premise is so intriguing, (as someone who has never seen titanic) I love this fic greatly)

Look - this is OF COURSE not a comprehensive list. I tried to compile somewhat of a combo of new and old fics, of course of the ones I've loved. Please do check out the author's other fics if you like their fic you've read! That's a sure way to discover more fic you'll most likely enjoy. Hope you like this, I wish I could do more, but it takes up more time than you can imagine, so, until next time!!!

[on-a-lucky-tide]

Hi hi hi I just ran into you and NikPrice and it makes me!!! wild!!!

You mentioned your hc for Price and I was wondering if there’s a place to read it? The little snippets you’ve offered have made me curious

More wild for Nikprice! Woop!

So, my headcanon is pretty heavy. It's part of the long work I'm writing called 'Skin and Bones'. It's a working title, and it's about John working through the trauma of his internalised homophobia, and allowing himself to have something good in his life. Accepting the idea that his hands aren't so dirty, he's not so broken and irredeemable, that he doesn't deserve a shot at happiness.

A lot of the short fics I write are exercising specific headcanons or characterisations or responses to see if I like them, to see if they work, for the long fic.

I'm writing the scene at the moment where he drives Nik away, says some really fucking cruel things, because he's scared, and frustrated, and angry. And Nik's heart kinda shatters... It's hard to write, and I'm getting through it because I know what the ending is.

The first few chapters are time jumps, and then there's meeting and getting to know Nikolai, falling in love with him, and then shoving that shit right down because Price isn't allowed it.

Anyway, uh... The start of the fic? To be honest, I might end up separating the early parts into its own prequel if it gets long enough. Smashing out 100k novellas on shit I'm obsessed with appears to be a pattern, and I put way, way too much of myself into these things but here we go.

cw: homophobia, evidence of physical abuse of a child, conversation about religion-based conversion therapy.

Liverpool, UK, 9th July 1999, 1800hrs

John watched the water droplets as they fell from his hair onto his school trousers, his face never lifting as voices rose and fell around him. Drip, drip. The dark spots that spread through the grey polyester on his lap formed an irregular pattern that he traced as his mind whirred mutely, numb.

“It's a sickness of the mind, it can be cured,” the vicar said, his hands clutching a brimmed mug of tea that read ‘No 1 Mum’ in a six year olds wonky handwriting. John’s little sister, the artist of the piece, played happily with her Barbie dolls in the corner of the room. She was none the wiser as to what had happened upstairs less than an hour before in her leftover bath water. John was glad. It was better that way.

“What…” John's mother started, but hesitated, like she was making sure she really wanted what she was asking for next, “what do we need to do?” She couldn't take her eyes off John. She hadn't since he'd entered the room, like she was worried he might mince off to find that boy again should her attention waver. In the car on the drive home, she had been hysterical, her hands white knuckled on the steering wheel - “ungrateful boy, all we’ve done for you, how could you do this to us? What will your gran say? Oh, her poor heart, you just wait til your father gets home” - each word like a knife through his chest. Her voice shook in the place of her hands now, which were tightly clasped in her lap. John wasn't sure what was worse; her look, or his father’s disregard.

David Price hadn't looked at him once since the bathroom. Not even a glance. John didn't need to see his face to know what he was thinking though. He had felt that just fine in the hand that had fisted his hair as it had pushed his head under the water and then the second that had backhanded him so hard across the jaw his vision had spun. His father had never hit him before. Maybe a slipper and a clip round the ear’ole when he was younger. But not like that. John knew even then that it had knocked something loose in him, that he would never be the same.

David stared through the net curtains into the street outside, his shoulders squared, his back as straight as if he stood on a parade square. He had invalided out, but there were some habits that never left. His back stood as a barricade between himself and the disappointment of a son hunched on the sofa behind him.

Drip, drip.

“School finishes in two weeks. There are programmes… youth camps that John can attend to help him… heal.” The vicar sipped his tea with a loud slurp. Milk, three sugars. John had made it for him. He sounded strange, John thought. He wasn't from Liverpool, but somewhere down south. Way south. Like Kent maybe. He was too proper. That's probably why his parents had called him in. Posh people, people with money and education, they knew things, had connections. They could fix John.

John felt insignificantly small and he gathered his hands into his lap. He was broken and the posh vicar would fix him for his parents.

A camp didn't sound so bad; it would be like the cadet camps he went on. Mud, climbing, running, stories around the campfire and whispered conversations in sleeping bags while the NCOs supervising them had a beer. John could do that if it made his family happy. He could make this right.

The drips were slowing down.

“These camps,” his father didn't look away from the window as he spoke in a slow, deliberate way, ��they’ll be disciplined, strict? None of this… namby-pamby shit.”

John’s mother frowned. “David! Language.”

“They're highly ordered. Every hour of the day is occupied with activities. I assure you. It's not a quick fix though. It may take years, regular visits with a therapist, to rid John of this addiction. There is an expense, of course…”

'We head to Springfield now here on BBC2 as Homer tries his hand at some vigilante justice.' John looked up at the TV and watched the stylised number two flicker and bounce, before it cut to the intro sequence. It sounded distant, like he was listening through a wall and trying to catch the words. His sister dumped her dolls and grabbed her juice box. “Bart!”

“Doesn't matter,” David said, finally leaving the window. Every muscle in John’s wiry, fourteen year old frame seized. The world came flooding back in and then narrowed in on the huge, rough hand that grabbed his chin. “No son o’ mine’ll end up a fag. We’ll get you fixed up, Johno. No cost spared. Whatever this is, wherever this has come from, we’ll get it gone. Even if I ‘ave t’ beat it out of you meself.”

“Yessir,” John replied, his voice small and strangled in the back of his throat. His chest felt tight, his eyes prickled. He knew if he cried his father would be disgusted, and so he swallowed the tears. He could fix this. He would fix this. He could be better: the best. Whatever it took.

[melodyonthewireless]

MelodyOnTheWireless, masterlist of works...

Main series...

This series currently consists of my main WIP, A Match Made in Hell and the first spinoff/ prequel flashback of my main OCs life before she fell and found herself in Hell, Modern Day Broadcasting. This will be updated as the series expands.

Links to these two works individually below with their summaries/ descriptions...

After being suddenly and unceremoniously taken from the land of the living, many years too soon, she finds herself thrown in at the deep end as she awakens in Hell. Trouble finding her much like it did in her early life, before she started seeking it out herself.

She had no regrets, but many secrets to keep. She struggles to accept the hospitality offered to her as she finds herself meeting the residents of a hotel, ran by the princess of Hell herself and dedicated to her naïve dream of rehabilitating sinners and allowing them to rise. She knew she fell for a reason, in death she begins to find what she never felt in life, but struggles to open up in fear that she will be rejected if her new friends truly knew her. Doubting she could ever be redeemed, knowing she wouldn't want to be, she begins to carve herself a place in Pentagram City, and in the heart of an unexpecting demon who makes her feel accepted for everything she is and understood in ways she thought was impossible. Who knew Hell could be so homely?

But Hell is Hell, and life after death is far from straightforward and challenge free here.

This is a slow burn Alastor x OC fic where the main OC is a strong match for Alastor, a witch, avenging femme fatale type who can be both brutal and soft, she is witty, guarded and very observant. Alastor has his soft moments but his competition and intrigue with the witch leads to him forming a soft spot for her. Her lore heavily features and original content and plot points are planned, this is a long fic. More spinoffs will be added over time to the series.

Modern Day Broadcasting

This is the first spinoff and is a flashback to when Sybil was alive. It currently serves as a hint into future chapters as although it is set when she was alive, it feeds into the main fic just before a future chapter and is a nice tease and a bit of a hint as to what is to come, but has no big spoilers. It is set within the timeline of the main fic and sees Sybil sat in the library of the Hazbin Hotel reminiscing over a treasured memory with her sister, Clemmy, when she joined Sybil for work experience and saw her sister work on her radio comedy. It is cute fluff and a little sad if you know the main fic.

Memento Mori

This is a complete mini fic of just six chapters and is a crossover between Hazbin Hotel and the Dead by Daylight game universe. I wrote this for a Halloween writers event and it was a joy to write! The lore and setting of the game and the series really fit well and created a unique storytelling opportunity. It is Alastor x Sable Ward and is plot with a smut ending.

Alastor finds himself in The Entity's realm and bound by new chains of servitude that he is as unwilling, as ever, to accept. With no idea how he got there, he grapples with his fate, testing the entity and incurring violent physical and mental tortures as it works to bend him to its will, as so many have been before, clinging desperately to his plan for escape as he teeters on the edge of madness.

In Hell he had a choice, he could only ever blame himself for the deal that landed the fist pair of manacles around his wrists. After all, the system of dealing in souls had benefited him far greater than it had worked to his detriment, he could respect it, even. But The Entity is not a force driven by deals, nor does it give, but only take. Beyond the fog there are no other distributions of power, only The Entity... and it hungers!

Hope you enjoy! And as always, thank you.

[clanwarrior-tumbly]

Hello! I just wanna say your writing is amazing, and I absolutely adore your tmc stories and writing overall it's so good!!!! I was wondering if I could get a continuation of the Adam x gn reader where they found him alongside Thatcher (maybe they drive him to somewhere safe like an inn/motel and care for him. Whether it be cuddling, reassurance, allowing him to vent. Bcuz they just don't mind him being an alternate. Regardless of what he is they care for him and want the best.) I need my boy to feel okay :(

Aw thanks! I'm surprised ya'll wanted continuations for not just one of my Adam fics, but TWO of them. It makes me happy though!

For this one, I imagine Reader finding out how truly difficult helping Adam is gonna be when he starts acting more like an Alternate, but it's a fight they refuse to give up on.

So enjoy <3

Read the first part/prequel here

..........

"Well..here we are. I told the lady we're staying several nights, but my credit card should cover it."

Opening the door to the motel room, you pocketed the key before heading inside to check things out, tossing some bags onto the table.

Adam, in the meantime, stood there awkwardly in the hallway. But after you called his name, he snapped out of his trance and entered--

Only to bump his head on the top of the doorframe and wince in pain, rubbing the spot where it hurt as he scowled at nothing specific.

After everything that's happened tonight, he forgot that his painful metamorphosis and splintering of bones made him a few inches taller...not that he considered it a plus in any way, shape, or form.

If the circumstances were different, he'd probably brag about it to everyone.

Fortunately you didn't notice his mishap, as you were making sure there weren't any TVs or mirrors in the room. Not just for your own safety, but also for Adam's sanity, too.

He couldn't stand seeing his reflection in anything; even the van's rearview mirror made him freak out when he accidentally looked at it, screeching uncontrollably and screwing up the radio's signal until you finally figured out what was wrong and covered it up.

That's the first and only time you nearly crashed the van, thank goodness.

The rest of the drive was uneventful until you found this rundown motel somewhere on the outskirts of Werksha County, deciding it's the safest place to lay low until you both figured out what to do next.

Of all things, you never expected one of your closest friends to be an Alternate--not one who recently killed him and stole his identity, but one who didn't even know what he was until this very night.

Apparently, the "Intruder" revealed that he had replaced his real counterpart at only 4 years old, his mom having been dead this entire time...and deciding that now was the time for him to 'awaken".

Though given how he was crying, screaming, and begging for death when you and Thatcher found him, it's obvious he didn't take that news very well and didn't want to be anything like them.

He lived as a human for so long..he was convinced that he is one and refused to accept his reality.

You couldn't bring yourself to hate him for something he had no control over, nor were you going to ever treat him like one of those monsters.

They were heartless and evil...and while Adam himself acted that way for the past several weeks, pushing away everyone who cared about him, you realized he regretted it deeply. Surely Alternates don't feel things like that.

Eventually you'll have to tell Sarah and Evelin the truth, and also find out where BPS goes from here.

But none of that was important right now.

Taking care of him was.

"Alright. Everything looks good...shit, even the beds look pretty decent. I'm surprised."

Blinking, Adam looked to see you plop down onto one of the beds, laying on your back. "You gotta come over here, man. I promise it's comfier than it looks."

After a bit of silence, you heard some shuffling noises and glanced at him as he limped over to the other bed. He sat down and shrugged off your BPS jacket, using it like a blanket before he curled up on the mattress, resting his head on the pillow and tucking his lanky limbs close to his chest.

In a way, he almost acted like a cat...which was kinda cute.

"Yeah I'm pretty tired, too. You need anything, Adam?" You asked.

All you got was a shake of his head in response, his eyes already closed.

'Right..we both need some sleep. I know he definitely does. We'll figure out some game plan in the morning, then..' You took off your shoes, leaving them on the floor before getting under the sheets and turning off the lamp light.

"Well..goodnight."

He mumbled something, but you assumed was also "goodnight" and eventually fell fast asleep..

Until your short-lived dream turned into a nightmare.

You found yourself standing alone in a dark void, hearing the muffled screams of your friend that sounded so close...and yet so far away. But no matter what, you couldn't find him anywhere, even as you ran and called out his name.

If anything, it felt like you were moving even further away.

Then you were halted by a figure descending from the sky--being that same mysterious angel statue you saw back in the van, except its face was covered by a black square. Its movements, however, were quite lively as it spoke to you in the same voice that claimed itself to be your "intuition".

It whispered that you could not save the "Mandela Prophet" from his destiny, even though what he did tonight was unexpected--implying that he was supposed to harm you.

But it vowed that his "disguise" will eventually shed itself..and when it does you won't be safe anymore.

You refused to believe it, instead asking what it wanted from you.

Its response?

"I want you to open your eyes"

Suddenly you woke up, heart pounding a mile a minute as you looked around the dark motel room. It took a moment to realize you were out of that horrible dream.

But then you ceased all movements as you noticed the time on the alarm clock displayed 3:33 AM in red neon....before seeing a skeletal figure sitting on the edge of your bed, uncomfortably close.

It stared down at you with white pupils rolling around in its eyes, its mouth hung open--stretching to biologically impossible proportions as it spoke in whispers you couldn't decipher, despite its mouth not moving at all.

"A-Adam? That you?"

You bravely turned on the lamp light, rubbing your eyes to see that it was indeed your friend watching over you. His mouth was back in its normal place...although you did see it wide open for a split second after light filled the room before he closed it immediately.

It did give you a mini heart attack, forgetting he was capable of something like that, though you tried acting like you never saw it at all.

"S-Sorry..I didn't mean to wake you up." He apologized, clearing his throat. "I...couldn't sleep. Fuck, how can I?"

"It's alright. I don't think I can either." Sighing, you sat up and smiled reassuringly at him. "We've been through a lot of shit tonight, and-"

"You need to kill me."

Your smile faded as you stared at him, confused when he shoved one of his pillows against your torso. It had stuffing torn out of it, the case covered in blood and saliva.

"What the--?!" You blinked, looking down in horror. "Adam, is this your bl-?!!"

"I tried it and it didn't fucking work...s-so I need you to do it for me. Please." He begged. "I've tried everything else!!"

'Is he...asking me to smother him..? Was he...actually screaming earlier?' Your heart sunk into your stomach at the realization he tried killing himself while you were sleeping, but you shook your head.

"Adam we're not having this conversation again. I can't do that to you, okay? It's not going to work, and even if it did...I just...I can't. If you think I'm okay with straight-up murdering you-"

"Just do it, [y/n]...I-I don't care how long it takes. I don't want to be your burden anymore. I just...I want this to END!!!" He panicked, growing frustrated that you weren't taking the pillow as he now kneeled in front of you, hands trembling. "I'm one of those sick fucks that took your family away! So get revenge! KILL ME!!!"

"But you're not." Your gaze softened, resting your hands over his own. "You didn't kill them. You're my friend-"

"How can you see THIS as a friend-d-d?!!" He wailed, tearing himself away from you as coarse static began to overlay his voice. "This "friend" hurt so many people...Jonah...a-and Evelin...and it's going to hurt you too if you don't stop me!! PLEASE JUST FUCKING END MY SUFFERING-G-G!!!

You desperately tried to calm him down, afraid that someone in the neighboring rooms would hear all of his screaming and howling.

But he didn't stop.

"Shhh! Adam-! Adam, please just-!!"

"STOP IT!! DON'T CALL ME THAT!!! THAT'S NOT MY NAME!! IT WAS NEVER MY NAME!! I lied to you...I DECIEVED you, and you were too stupid to realize it.."

"...h-huh?" You froze, bewildered as his face suddenly became devoid of all emotion, staring dead at your confused expression.

"You stopped that cop from putting a bullet in my head." Tears began streaming down his bony cheeks, his jaw going slack as he spoke. "You're so selfish. You're a coward. Don't you see how horrible you are..keeping me around?! You think I can be saved?! You're only making me SUFFER, [y/n], and it's all your fault!"

You were shocked at the things he was saying to you, wondering if the last of his humanity had finally slipped away...and this is all that remained now.

"A-Adam, please stop-"

"PLEASE STOP! PLEASE STOP! PLEASE STOP! PLEASE STOP!" He began to mimic your voice to near-perfection, hearing hysterical laughter coming from him despite his expression not matching it at all.

You could tell from his eyes alone that he wasn't in total control over himself. He wasn't doing this on purpose.

It was those Alternate instincts trying to override him, attempting to submit you to the symptoms of M.A.D.

Begging him to be quiet was no longer working. You had to try something else...something that would catch him off-guard.

And you finally figured it out.

Taking the pillow, you tossed it aside before gently pulling Adam into your arms, once again being careful not to crush any of his fragile bones. Almost immediately his laughter stopped, his whole body seizing up.

Without the jacket you've previously given him, you could feel how extremely skinny he was, his vertebrae almost poking through his flesh. But it didn't stop you from wrapping your arm around his back, petting his hair soothingly with your other hand.

"...what are you doing-g?" He asked, his voice muffled by your shoulder. "Don't touch me! I-I'm...I will....!"

"You'll what?"

"......."

From the way his entire form gradually went slack in your arms, you realized he was (somewhat) back to his old self, and smiled. "See? You're not hurting me now, and you didn't before. I still trust you, Adam."

He didn't do anything for a few long moments, but just when you were about to let him go, he suddenly hugged you back and fully buried his face into your shoulder, sobbing.

"I'm so sorry, I-I didn't mean to...! I'm sorry, I'm sorry..!!"

"It's okay. I know you didn't mean any of it." You consoled, allowing him to pull you closer to him. As much as he tried, he could barely crush you..considering he had little strength left. "It's okay, we're both okay."

He just shook his head, still devastated that he tried giving you M.A.D and couldn't stop himself. "Th-This is why I wanted you to leave me..b-before I say stupid shit like that and hurt you...."

"C'mon, you've said a lot of "stupid shit" over the years. It's gonna take more than that to drive me away." As you rubbed his bare back, you could feel him nuzzling into your shirt more, desperate for warmth that his own body no longer provided him.

"I-It's so cold. I'm scared, [y/n]...I'm scared of myself." He choked. "None of this feels...real."

"I know. I...can't even imagine what's been going through your head tonight. But you're still my friend, and nothing's gonna change that. Not even this, alright?"

After a few moments of silence he nodded, sniffling. "I'm sorry for putting all of this on you. But....if you have to kill me-"

"Adam."

"R-Right, right...I'm sorry. I won't bring it up again.."

"....we'll figure out something else, okay? And I'll be here for you. Just like always."

Although Adam didn't verbally respond to that, he let go of you and laid down beside you, indicating he wanted to at least attempt to sleep. You were surprised that he didn't just return to his own bed, but you weren't going to be a dick and kick him off.

So you gave him most of the sheets and blankets, knowing he needed them far more than you did. He only mumbled a small "thank you" before turning his back to you, now tucked under the blanket.

You got under the covers as well, switching off the light again, but you heard him still crying softly into the pillow and groaning in pain, clearly trying to hide it from you.

It hurts that you couldn't take away his pain.

The one thing you could do, however, was comfort him..now knowing he wasn't going to push you away like he did before. So you gently put your arm around him, closing some of the space between you two while not being too constricting.

And while he didn't stop crying right away, he eventually quieted down and fell asleep with one less worry on his mind.

You hoped it wasn't too weird--just something to reassure him that you're gonna be right here when he awakened.

It did the trick.

You weren't going to leave him.

Not anytime soon.

[paimonial-rage]

follow the wind ii- kazuha

ship: kazuha x reader

synopsis: in which he finally relents

notes: sequel to follow the wind i; please read the prequel before this fic

Hey First!

It’s been a while! I’m not sure if you remember me, but I’m the one that visited with Kazu that one time, Tomo! I was the one that suggested to auntie that she start roasting her seaweed as a snack. Kazu told me you have a penchant for glaring, but man, I thought you were going to burn a hole through me when we first met! I was so sure you hated me that I really didn’t expect you to cry the day we left! Oh, I mean, that something would “fly into your eye” the exact moment we headed out.

Before you start worrying, Kazu is alright. While the Vision Hunt Decree caught us all by surprise, we both have found places to shelter us for the time being. Kazu has been worried about you two, though he’s trying his best not to show it. I kept telling him to visit, but he doesn’t want to put you both at risk.

Speaking of which, can I be honest with you a bit? Back on that trip I first met you on the night Kazu turned in early, you mentioned you didn’t think he cared much about you. That he still saw you as an annoying kid that attended his family’s dojo. I think deep down you know that isn’t true. Kazu may keep his distance (which I told him is stupid), but he cares about you more than you’ll ever know. Everyone in his life comes and goes, but he keeps returning to you. Just think a bit about what that means, okay?

Anyway, how has it been in the city? I’ve heard there’s been much unrest. A few people even lost their lives trying to protect their visions. Are you able to get food? The Tenryou Commission thugs aren’t making things difficult for you two, right? If things get too bad, visit the Yashiro Commission. Give them my name and they’ll take care of you both.

Now you must be wondering why I’ve written you. Well, I may have challenged someone to a foolish duel. If things go south, I will need you to do something for me. If I lose, Kazuha will be in danger. He will be deep within enemy territory. I need someone to lead him out. However, if you help me, you and your mother will be put in danger as well. If that’s too much of a risk, burn this letter now. If not, here’s what I need you to do…

—-

The severed blade clattered to the stone floor of Tenshukaku as the dimming vision of his dear friend rolled to a stop a few feet away. He was too late. The duel was over and the divine punishment was dutifully executed. He should feel fine with it. This is what Tomo wanted. One does not question where the wind leads, but accepts its will with grace. And yet… why did it feel so wrong?

His body reacted before his mind did, and before he knew it, he was fleeing with his friend’s dull vision in hand. Rain whipped through his hair as he raced down the hills surrounding Inazuma City. He had no clue what exactly he was doing or where he was going, though in the back of his mind, he was thankful for the archon’s blessing of an anemo vision. The Shogunate soldiers were at least twenty paces behind him, and if he kept it up, it wouldn’t be long until he was in the clear.

At least that’s what he thought until the thundering boom of the taiko drums reverberated from behind. Each strike was like a heartbeat counting down to his demise. And only to solidify that premonition was the sight of quickly gathering soldiers at the entrance of the city. But when he leapt over the water wheel in an attempt to change course, something rammed him and backwards he fell into the water.

Panic overtook him when arms pulled him under the walkway. His flailing and desperation to reach for his sword only made the culprit’s grip tighter. It was only when the soft shushing over the howling of the wind met his ears. Then came his name once, then twice. The familiarity within it willed his muscles to still before his mind could, and the grip holding him relaxed. But just as he began to calm, another emotion took its place.

He spun around in your grasp to clamp his hands around your shoulders. Your eyes widened in shock at the abruptness of his movements and you looked different than usual, but he couldn’t bring himself to care about those things.

“First, why– what in the world are you doing here!?” He hissed. “How did you even– do you realize how dangerous this is!?”

He couldn’t blame you for simply gaping at him for a few moments. Never before had he snapped at you like this, but it didn’t take you long to push him back, hands shaking in fury.

“Do you!?” You growled back, your hands gripping his collar tightly. “Why did you come back here? Who cares if your friend made some stupid duel before the Shogun, don’t you realize how dangerous Inazuma City is right now? Do you want to be killed too, Kazuha!?”

Your voice cracked as your last sentence left your lips. You turned away, gritting your teeth. So you knew. You knew what happened to Tomo.

“You’re so stupid, the both of you.”

He reached out to you before he could stop himself and drew you close. You were always such a crybaby. You were the only person that would shed tears over someone you only met once.

“I’m sorry,” he replied.

Though you stiffened at his admittance, you soon melted against him as a sob tore itself from your lips. How many times did he do this to you, he wondered. Made you cry? All you ever wanted was to keep the things and people you loved safe, but he couldn’t do that for you. How hard you tried chasing after him, but he refused to let you stay by his side. It was a wonder why you kept trying even after all of these years.

“Did you see where he went? Scope the area!”

You both froze at the sound of voices and footsteps overhead. Pressed against each other, you both didn’t even dare so as to breathe until they left.

You pulled back and clasped your hands over his shoulders.

“You must stay here, okay? Only leave when night falls. Head to the beach outside of Kondo Village. Someone will be waiting for you there.”

He frowned.

“What do you–”

Then he finally noticed it. It wasn’t the reflection of the water, your hair was dyed white. And your clothes. Were they the set of his your mother always kept on hand? But you pulled back before he could think anymore.

“Remember, Kondo Village tonight. They’ll keep you safe.”

With each word, you backed out a step into the opening. But his hand took yours.

“What are you talking about!? You can’t. It’s dangerous.”

But you smiled.

“It’ll be okay. Tomo planned this out. I’ll be fine.”

He shook his head.

“No, I can’t. I can’t let you–”

But you pulled your hand from his.

“No. I will do this for you. You can’t stop me.”

Your fiery eyes pierced through him, freezing him still. He hated them in that moment. You were right. Your heart was set. If he stopped you now, he would dishonor your resolve. He’d ruin any last shred of loyalty you had for him. But…

He looked away, gritting his teeth at the bitter distaste upon his tongue. How long had he tried stopping you from following in his footsteps? How long had he tried to keep you safe? You were the only thing in his life that stayed the same. You were the only thing he could come home to. But the control he had over you held no longer. You were to be risking your life for him whether he wanted you to or not.

Whether he may lose two friends within a single day or not.

He didn’t want to say it.

“Be safe.”

But he had to.

“Please.”

Guilt crawled in his chest at the way your eyes blown wide toward his willingness to relent. How many times did he say no to you that you had it set in your mind his answer would be the same? But the expression that took hold next wasn’t resentment, nor bitterness as he expected. No, for what seemed like the first time in his life, you were smiling.

He saw it in your eyes—the relief, the joy, the giddiness. For the first time in your life, he accepted you to stand at his side. For the first time in your life, he let you be his equal. He wasn’t rejecting you, but relying on you to keep him safe. And your heart couldn’t take it. He always knew it. You loved him so much.

So he couldn’t stop it, not when you stepped close, not when you wrapped your arms around his neck, not when you kissed him so sweetly. You couldn’t get enough, and neither could he. But you both knew you couldn’t delay any longer. So when you finally pulled back and rested your forehead against his, you hugged him close.

“Be safe, okay? I’ll see you again, I promise.”

And then you pulled away and ran off, for the first time, from him.

—

[[Previous Chapter]] | [[Accompanying Character Analysis]]

[beevean]

Isaac/Hector, Hector/Mathias and Sonic/Amy for the ship asks? :>

Triple feature? Alright :)

Isaactor:

• when or if I started shipping it.

After reading both mangas. I went from "huh, they don't interact as much as I thought" (game only), to "ohhh Isaac absolutely had a crush, it's canon" (MF manga), to "so you two were banging, weren't you" (PtR) like, have you seen the way they look at each other while fighting. man

• my thoughts:

I think they could have been good friends, even boyfriends, had they met anywhere but in Dracula's castle. The problem is that Dracula's castle was the only place that could accept them.

At first their differences drew them to each other: Isaac brought Hector out of his shell and acted as his senpai, Hector restrained Isaac from getting into serious trouble (not all the time lol). They'd banter and flirt and grow closer to each other, believing that only they could understand each other like no one else would.

But then, as they grew older, those same differences drew them apart. Hector became proud if not a touch arrogant. Isaac became too unsympathetic. Isaac also lashed out in pain over being the unfavorite one, while Hector felt alienated for his rebellious thoughts. And eventually, they realized... that they never truly connected after all. They just thought they did because they had no one else.

anyway i love the divorsties <3

• What makes me happy about them:

Imagining them when they were younger and full of hope :'D

• What makes me sad about them:

Imagining them when their relationship is nearly destroyed but they aren't divorced yet and they're forced to live with each other and futilely look for companionship and understanding :'D

Also, two prequels, and neither of them had scenes where we could see what their actual relationship was like >:( bruh >:(

• things done in art/fic that annoys me:

Ukefying Hector and semefying Isaac. Again, no, you're missing the point. Just because Isaac is more sexually charged it doesn't mean he's suddenly a god of sex. (I also personally disagree with the take that the dude whored his ass around the castle and was already experienced by the time he jumped on hector, because bro, when you live with mr. pretty silver hair, your standards are going to be raised to the stratosphere :P)

• things I look for in art/fic:

That sweet sweet tragedy of a friendship cut down in its prime 💖

• Who I’d be comfortable them ending up with, if not each other: 

Hector with Rosaly lol. Isaac... I don't think he's ready for a relationship in general. although i still have a soft spot for isaavor

• My happily ever after for them:

I like to imagine that Hector secretly fantasized about running away from the castle with Isaac and them settling down in a cottage away from human society, just surviving on their on in complete freedom. That would be the perfect ending for them. But it wasn't meant to be :)

• what is their favorite non-sexual activity?

Sparring and racing on top of their Innocent Devils! I like thinking of all the ways they'd goof off lmao

Mactor:

• when or if I started shipping it.

I... honestly don't remember. Very recently. A month ago?

• my thoughts:

My thought process could be summed up as "what if Hecula but without the horrific abuse?"

Yeah, literally impossible with the main guy. So I had to resort to "Dracula but when he was more or less a decent human being" :'D

I just like the Lord/knight aesthetic they have. I like the idea of Hector willingly swearing loyalty to Mathias, Dracula's humanity, the part of him that Hector always appreciated; and I like the idea of Mathias being so taken away by Hector's mental strength (which he sorely lacks) and swearing to be a better Lord for him than Dracula.

• What makes me happy about them:

The Parallels™ and the small height difference

Hector is already sweet to his beloveds, Mathias also comes off as someone who is so so tender with the few people he cares about, and that's how you get a recipe for tooth-rotting fluff and devotion <3

• What makes me sad about them:

Their relationship is doomed to be fleeting because they'd have to return to their respective time period, and Mathias will eventually become Dracula and hurt Hector and love him in a twisted way.

The whole idea, in general, is that they have a short story, but it matters to both of them. It definitely matters to Hector, who will carry the memories for the rest of his life. With Mathias... he'll forget, in part. But for that short time, it was a comfort.

• things done in art/fic that annoys me:

Nothing. It doesn't exist.

• things I look for in art/fic:

Nothing. While Hecula could theoretically exist if people stopped being cowards, I am well aware that Mactor is extremely niche 😂

Well, except when @the-crow-binary writes short excepts, and they always write them to be either adorable and with terrible flirting game, or so supportive of each other no matter what they just went through <3

• Who I’d be comfortable them ending up with, if not each other:

Guess who for Hector, lmao.

Mathias... well, I would say Elisabetha or Leon, but we know how that ends :^) 

• My happily ever after for them:

*cries in Mathias is doomed to become Dracula*

The best ending would be for Hector to go to Mathias' time period, befriend Elisabetha and Leon so that mathias can endulge in the threesomes he always wanted, and maybe stop the Draculification process lol. <- even better if this is post-CoD Hector who already went through the whole revenge process

• what is their favorite non-sexual activity?

Discussing about alchemy :) their brands of alchemy is very different lol, but they could learn from each other.

Sonamy:

• when or if I started shipping it.

At the ripe old age of 8 years old, because with me, it's either rarepairs or the most basic ships possible :'D

• my thoughts:

They cute lol. Honestly, it's just that. They cute. They're good friends, Amy has mellowed out a little from her "SONIC MARRY ME" days (I don't like when her crush is completely erased, but the 2000s were hard times), and Sonic appreciates her a lot and trusts her even when he doesn't understand her reasons. They're both very friendly and optimistic, but they express it in different ways, with Amy being far more extroverted and emotional than Sonic: sometimes they clash, other times they complement each other.

• What makes me happy about them:

The closeness :) Again, in recent portrayals they have chiller vibes, what I would expect from old friends.

• What makes me sad about them:

The 2000s. And that one scene of Sonic pushing Amy's face away in Generations. And the ship wars.

• things done in art/fic that annoys me:

Depicting Sonic as overly schmaltzy and romantic, all kissy kissy and huggy huggy lol. Sonic isn't like that. He's very introverted and more subtle in his affection.

I'm happy that I never encountered a Sonamy fic where Shadow is bashed in the same way Amy is bashed in Sonadow fics or Sonic is bashed in Shadamy fics, but I'm sure they exist and I hate it on principle.

• things I look for in art/fic:

I don't really look for fanfics anymore, sadly. Very few people see their dynamic like I do lol.

My favorite type of fanart is of the "sharing an umbrella" vibe, just the two enjoying each other's company :>

• Who I’d be comfortable them ending up with, if not each other: 

Me, a Sonknuxamy believer: :)

• My happily ever after for them:

I'd love for them to travel together and have fun all over the world <3

• what is their favorite non-sexual activity?

What they already do in canon lol. Go on adventures! Although Sonic could also humor Amy and go on "dates"

[onedaughterofman]

YET ANOTHER FUN FACTS POST

The title comes from Ghost's "Dance Macabre" song. This references not only the whole "Copia and his lover always danced with each other" but also how Nihil and Sister's relationship started in the lore (during the Dance Macabre video).

When Mary says "you can't rely on a man's loyalty" that's a wink to my "Mary Goore used to date young Papa Nihil" fic.

Primo's garden is based on Minerva's gardens in Salerno, Italy. I've been there once and it was beautiful!

The Codex Gigas is a real book, stored in Sweden's National Library (I'm not sure if it's open to the public eye now). And yes, ten whole pages are still missing. One of the biggest particularities of the book is a big portrait of Satan. Some people believe it is, indeed, cursed.

The Antichrist prophecy written here is based not only on the lyrics of "Prime Mover", but also on the song "Prophet's song" by Queen (probably one of my fav songs).

It is mentioned the crows were "incredibly loud" the night Goore was born. This is a small wink to @calitmediondell idea of Mary as Eric Draven and @ghestie93 The Crow! AU Mary Goore fanfic.

In the song "Under the Spell", Mary sings: "They kept me for ages in prison called earth, wearing the mark of the devil since my rebirth" and " The dark era's rising, you've been forewarned. I was born to this world to take it by storm. Unleashed from the pit, straight out of hell, behold my return". That's what gave me the idea of them being the original Antichrist.

The whole Copia vs Goore is an allegory of "natural born monsters" vs "man made monsters". Yes, a natural born Antichrist is scary, but one created by men actions seemed way scarier to me. Copia wasn't born to become the Antichrist, even if Imperator tried her best to make him the prophecy boy. Copia was given all the potential to become it, he only needed a little push.

The Goore vs Ghoulettes part is inspired on the short story "The Night Face-Up" by Julio Cortázar. He's one of my favorite writers and you should check his work if you can!

Mary getting buried under a cross is a "Mary on a Cross" word-play. It was fun in my head.

Copia's underground safe-place is based on the entrance of Hell written in the Divine Comedy. I thought it was fitting to make Copia feel "safe and at home" in a place like that. Specially since Prequelle's cover shows the Hellmouth (or jaws of Hell).

When Copia and Reader first met, it is mentioned he was staring a ta painting of an Ouroboros, a snake or dragon biting it's own tail. This creature reflects an eternal cycle, something that's the core of this story. Everything is cyclical. Copia's story starts with Nihil and Imperator dancing in "Dance Macabre" (which lead to Sister dating him and then getting pregnant), continues with Copia and Reader also meeting in a party and ends with them dancing their own "Dance Macabre".

Reader talking to Copia doesn't mean they have regained sentience. They are trapped on a memory loop, repeating past scenes like a broken record. Copia is the one who moves on, by accepting his destiny. He lost his religion, casted away all other deities to hail himself as God.

The rain finally falls this chapter. During all the previous parts, it was threatening to fall, but never did. In a way, symbolizes Copia's self discovery journey coming to an end.

The night I wrote the part where Copia is talking to the Ghoulette about wanting to become Satan, I dreamed was getting choked to death by a demon while someone was yelling at me in a very deep, booming voice. Woke up gasping for air and shaking. I think Satan didn't like that part too much.

You, forever (Chapter X: Dance Macabre)

Pairing: Papa Emeritus IV x g/n reader Summary: The Clergy takes something from Copia, but he refuses to let go. Warnings/tags: descriptions of corpses, death, blood and violence. Biblical references and Satanism. Angst. Around 8K words.

A/N: The end is here. I want to dedicate this chapter to King Satan. None of this would have been possible without Him.

PREV CHAPTER HERE

"The fifth angel sounded, and I saw a star fall from heaven unto the earth. To him was given the key of the bottomless pit. He opened it and there arose smoke and the sun and the air were darkened. There came out of the smoke locusts upon the earth."

Breathe.

The sky remains calm. Ominous gray clouds obscure the firmament, rendering it black. Copia’s eyes gradually lift from the old, decayed remains of marble tiles and rubble on the floor, examining the area until they inevitably fall on you.

Breathe again.

Copia’s heart jumps inside his ribcage, stopping scarcely for a moment before resuming a measured, heavy pace. His organ throbs and whines painfully, beating slowly. The sensation it’s terribly burdensome, as if his heart alone weighed more than his entire body. Mouth agape, he battles to inhale but even if the air enters his lungs, there’s no substance in it.

The entire world has come to an abrupt stop. No birds or cicadas dare to sing, not even the wind whistles in his ears. Copia is unsure if he’s still alive and breathing, or if he has ceased existing too. His fingers twitch, not quite moving, but desperately yearning to reach out.

You are standing in front of him. As beautiful as the last day he saw you, laying in bed and sleeping soundly. Copia remembers that morning previous to his trip, before the word crumbled at his feet. He recalls your tousled hair in the pillows, the way the dim light fell on your exposed body and how the sheets and blankets swirled around your figure. Copia remembers the little smile on your tender lips, the way your eyelashes fluttered when you acknowledged his departure.

That morning, the sky was equally dark as today, rain threatening to fall at any given moment. Now, even if the air is humid and saturated with dew, Copia fears no storm. The ground could break into a thousand pieces, turning into nothing but fire and lava, and he would nevertheless try to reach out, to hold you even if dread and guilt anchor his feet.

Suffocating as it is, Copia is sure he’d rather experience forever this solid weight his heart carries than to lose you again. It would be a hungry beast to feed, a dreary peace coated in blood and sacrifice. But worth it, so worth it. 

 It’s been months, years, an eternity since he saw you standing for the last time…And now, now Copia’s right hand lifts, fingers shaking and yearning to take yours. Yet, he doesn’t dare to. His feet are glued to the ground.

Frozen in place, Copia can only stare at the way Goore’s hands hold your waist and wrist, firm grip restraining you in place. There’s a black blindfold obstructing your vision, and the hair falls on your forehead in a way he’s convinced you must hate.

Yes, you used to despise that. His memories may have faded now, to the point he’s no longer certain what is reality and what a dream, barely a product of his imagination and mind tricks. Copia no longer remembers his past, the days and nights have become a blurry, mushed mess in his jaded brain. However, he’s sure of this. 

If it’s about you, then he naturally knows it. He feels it in his guts, in his heart.

In front of him, you remain both hauntingly beautiful and sinister, much like the phantasmagorical version of you he has kept alive all this time inside his mind.

“For you,” Goore announces, definitely shattering the deep silence. The tree tops move with the wind, practically in slow motion. “Right back from the bottomless pit.”

One step, then another. Copia’s legs vacillate, weakening at the sight of you oscillating limply in Goore’s arms. Your hand moves by degrees, in a very artificial and articulated way, almost as if there were invisible strings holding you together by the joints. He breathes through his teeth, raw air freezing his insides.

And yet, he moves. There’s no strength, no soul behind his flesh, only muscle memory keeping him upward. Copia’s hand extends again, fingers narrowly brushing the hair on your forehead before something hastily strikes at his face.

The effort to move out of the way makes his heart race. At least, now he’s sure he’s alive. Goore’s laugh pierces the silence, demolishing it into a thousand pieces as a low growl dies in your throat.

Copia swallows, but there’s no saliva in his mouth. His tongue is dry, and something wet is scurrying down his cheek. The realization hits him like a train.

It’s blood. He’s bleeding, from a shallow cut on his forehead.

Oh, impious father, why must he keep suffering? Hasn’t he given enough? Hasn’t he sacrificed everything, everyone in this spiteful earthly realm? He only wanted one thing, and that was to live with you, to love you. Was it too much? Was it so greedy of him, to desire your love?

Is he so wicked, so cursed that not even Satan himself would grant him his one, true desire?

It’s hard to accept it, to face the truth. You have attacked him, mercilessly tried to claw his eyes out of his face. Copia could cry, but his throat is closed and his soul is tired, empty. His lip merely quivers, before he regains control.

Behind his back, he perceives the muffled growling of the Ghouls. The tails are flickering and wiping the air, in a visible demonstration of their uneasiness. Copia gestures for them to calm down, but the growl persists, only becoming a dull rumble he chooses to ignore.

Mary’s chuckles are completely different. This time, their hands nudge you away, making you trip on a pile of debris. Your body doesn’t hit the ground, only because they grip both of your wrists before the fall, keeping your nails away from their face.

“Careful,” Mary advises, blowing a few strands of hair out of their eyes. “Their wrath knows no difference between a friend and a foe.”

“What have you done to them?”

As much as his soul hurts, there is no anger reflected in his voice. Copia is terribly numb, too exhausted to even consider devoting his energy on someone like Goore. If he’s about to plumber to the ground and allow nature to consume him to the very core, then he wants to use his last vital force to hug you and be with you under the moonlight.

“Me? I opened the pit that kept their soul trapped in the underworld. Just like you asked me to.”

“This is not…” Copia begins, but the words taste bitter, like poison. He debates whether or not to say them, pondering if it’s better to spit them out and release them to contaminate the ground or swallow them and hope to die from their venom. “This is not… the person I used to know.”

No. You, the one he fell for, would have never hurt him. You were kind, lovely, so full of warmth. Copia detects bits of you in the creature he has in front of his eyes, notes the resemblance, but there are also striking differences. It feels as if he is looking at you through a thick, colored glass or a distorted mirror. 

You’re the same and yet, you’re a stranger. He can’t overlook the way his muscles spam and tremble when he takes a step back, head shaking. Oh, how afraid he is, how strongly the anguish tears into his throat. He’s terrified, frightened of you and of himself, of the things he has done and the blood on his hands and clothes.

The fear in his small pupils is evident. Goore sees it even in the gloomy night, smells it permeating the air. Their lips stretch again, a wide grin on their face. “Man, don’t be like that,” they say, fingers digging into your cheeks. A growl escapes through your teeth, but you remain in place. 

When Copia doesn’t move, Mary continues. “You heard that? He doesn’t want you anymore,” they mock, turning your head in the other’s direction. Only a low gasp exits his lips. “You can’t rely on a man’s loyalty, believe me. Been there, done that.”

Finally, his words elicit a reaction. “That’s not…!” Copia complains. To ever think about leaving you or, Lord forbid, you discarding him makes his blood burn, then freeze. You can’t. He loves you. He needs you. You have promised to stay together eternally, to rot and burn forever united. “You must have made a mistake. Something is wrong, I know it!”

Rejoicing in Copia’s internal turmoil, Goore merely huffs in response. Their eyes are wide open, pupils blown inside the light irises. The gaze is intense, malevolent even. If there’s a spawn of the deepest circles of Hell on earth, then it’s Goore.

Maybe it’s not Death the one who didn’t want them. Maybe even Satan preferred to keep them far away.

“Well, you made me speed up the process way too much. Human resurrection is not as simple as one might think.” A long pause. Mary’s fingers uncurl from your wrists, pushing you away. Your legs tremble and give up, barely regaining your footing before reaching the ground. “Why, though? Death doesn’t take everything away, only the soul. The flesh and bones remain, just like the memories stored in the brain. If you give them a little push, a spark of life, they start moving like flesh puppets.”

Yes, that sounds right. Most of Goore’s projects were just flesh puppets made to satisfy whatever selfish desire they had. It quickly became a boring hobby, a stale one. Mary wanted more. So, they got more. “But yours? This one has a vigorous, tortured soul. That’s why it’s fucked up. I told you to only bring the body back.”

“You’d say it’d work.”

“It works. They need some adaptation time to reconnect the soul, body and memories.” Or so, Mary hopes. All their past projects were incomplete, way too complicated to be allowed inside the Ministry. You’re different, a masterpiece, a beautiful creation. “If you still want them, here they are. Hell, I’ll make them behave for you.”

A deep breath is all it takes. When Goore concentrates, it’s almost as if the cords holding you in place suddenly tensed up. Like a puppet with no visible strings, your back straightens and both feet get planted firmly on the dirt. A twitch of their fingers makes you twirl and dance round and round under the ghastly moonlight.

It’s awful.

“See? Are they not more beautiful now?"

No. It's terribly awful. Copia stares, eyes wide open, air frozen in his throat. His guts hurt, and he feels about to puke. “Stop!” he yells, moving forward. His fingers touch you for the first time, and there’s a spark there. He feels shivers down his spine, the bile rising to his mouth. 

Oh, Satan, if he’s been a good servant, then he only pleads one thing: let this be a nightmare. Copia is suddenly small, so scared, both happy to finally hold you but terrified of this reality. He has you back, but something is terribly wrong, he can tell. The realization of what he has done, how he has turned you into this, condemned you to this monstrosity, hits like a train. He could cry, sob and wail for days to come. 

But he doesn't. “Just leave them and go. We are done here.”

“As you wish,” Mary says, starting to walk. They stop before crossing the old Ministry’s gate, head tilted to one side making the long bangs fall on their eyes. “If you put them back in places they used to like, their memories will come back quicker and maybe they’ll regain some of their humanity. Don’t remove the blindfold yet, the resurrected don’t like it. There’s a reason why Nihil had to wear those stupid sunglasses during the rituals.”

“Maybe, you say?” The leather gloves make a loud noise over the silence when he clenches his fists tight, knuckles turning pale under the cold material. “I sacrificed everything I ever had to the Old One, and all you can give me is a maybe?”

Under his breath, Papa Emeritus IV curses. Why? Why is this happening to him? He was chosen. He’s Papa now. 

 It’s not fair. Life has never been fair to him. Maybe Imperator was right all this time. If you want something, you don’t ask for it, you don’t pray and hope to get it.

No. You conquer, you destroy, you take it by force. That’s how she lived, no fear, no guilt, no shame. And Satan liked it, Copia is sure. He rejoiced in the suffering she caused, fed off the atrocities and sacrifices she offered. Satan is a cruel mouth to feed in the Ministry, a curse that weighs on top of all of them, all the time.

In this world, either you bleed, or others do it. There’s no magical benediction, no way to free the soul from curses. They are all slaves to someone. Perhaps Terzo was also right. There should be no God, and no Satan.

There should be only men, only himself. 

Blown pupils burning holes on Papa’s face, Goore speaks up one last time.  “What can I say? Suffering for the Lord is not an easy thing.”

Copia allows himself to fall to his knees when Mary crosses the gates and disappears into the darkness. Behind his back, the ghouls mutter between each other, words in a language he can’t recognize. If they are laughing or mocking him, he doesn’t care.

In his arms, now on the ground next to him, your body twitches. Copia takes hold of your wrists, pulls them until your head comes to rest on his chest. The tickle of your hair on his cheek reminds him of old, better times. It’s a bitter comfort, a loving touch to his starved skin. 

“Amore, it’s okay,” he whispers over your hair. “You’re home now. I’m here with you.”

There’s no reply. Holding you closer, Copia lets his eyelids fall as he slowly rocks his body back and forth, humming an old song. When your skin begins to retain part of his heat, he feels a smile forming on his lips. The humming grows louder, melody vibrating in his vocal cords. 

Oh, how happy he is. Copia’s mouth opens to let out a joyful chuckle, but only sobs come out of it. The tears fall on your hair, clinging to the strands like dew drops.

“It was commanded to them that they should hurt only those men which have not the seal of God in their foreheads. In those days shall men seek death, and shall not find it; and shall desire to die, and death shall flee from them.”

In the abbey, although now run down by the passage of time and the unforgiving fire, there is a garden.

Long time ago, Papa Emeritus I took it as his job to build an educational area where Siblings could study and research herbs and plants used to treat diseases or to create deadly poisons. The exotic species were guarded by gargoyles and surrounded with beautiful painted tiles, a gift he received from a Bishop resident in northern Italy.

When Papa Emeritus I died, the maintenance of the garden fell on the Siblings. Shortly after, diverse rumors began to be spread, whispered in a hushed voice on the hallways. Some Siblings were convinced the soul of the old Papa was still roaming around, carefully tending to the plants and haunting anybody who dared to disrupt the peaceful and educational nature of the garden.

If the rumors are true, Copia doesn’t know it. The whole yard is nothing but a burned, withering mountain of weeds and dry leaves. There’s no ghost tormenting him, not heavy weight pounding down his shoulders and no promises of revenge coming from Primo.

It’s almost disappointing. Sitting under a tree, Copia wishes Primo could be here. The old man used to be the least bothersome of them all, and also the one who dedicated himself to the church the most. If only he could be near, willing to impart his wisdom for a bit of time, he’d be grateful.

Some kind of ancient rite, a special herb conjunction or even a spell could help him sleep for a whole night, without falling prey to the terrible horrors of his dreams. Copia endures the way his eyelids weigh down, desperate to offer some relief to his weary eyes. His sight is blurry, sclera bloodshot.

Copia is tired, so tired all the time.

There’s no respite for his old soul. He can’t rest, for as long as your situation remains uncertain. Copia knows deep in his heart that you must ache so badly. Still, on long days and eternal nights, he merely wishes to hold onto your body and wrap his arms around you, whispering sweet nothings into your skin. If love could heal and relieve any ailment, if it could become a vital motor of life, then you would live perpetually in peace.

What a selfish idea. And yet, love is such a selfish, cruel thing to impose on others. The crushing weight of it, the brutal nature of desire and hope… Copia is aware of how abrasive his longing is, of how much his love will follow you like a restless shadow. He recognizes, deep down, that he is constantly asking so much. He’s begging for things no one else ever gave him, for him was not even worth the idea of it.

And you didn’t care about it. You never minded his flaws or his ugliness. Instead, you embraced every little detail with the tenderness of a lover.

Love: brutal, wonderful, cruel and tender, both a blessing and a curse. Since that first moment you asked for a dance, he hasn’t experienced peace.

There’s no peace for you either. He understands how being trapped in this existence must hurt you. Still, when the idea of ending it enters his mind, he feels repulsed. No matter how much his hands hover over your neck, wishing to squeeze it until you stop moving, he doesn’t.

No, you must stay by him, love him beyond death. You will come back to him, forever his. During interminable nights, you two will dance under the moonlight and eternal sky. The flames of his desire and adoration will burn as bright as the stars, but not as much as your gaze when your eyes meet his.

You’re his fate. Copia will do anything to make sure no one will ever touch you again. Nothing will happen. Not anymore. He’s not weak, he has found strength and power hidden deep within his guts.

Copia died, the same day he lost you, and now he’s been reborn. Just like Christ.

A whole new figure.

A whole new person.

You’re a whole new person too. Two lovers, different than they used to be but still reaching out to each other, swimming eternally in damnation.

And damned, that you are. In the dark, the earth trembles and crumbles. A deep pit, no bottom to be seen, opens its mouth to devour you whole.

Falling. You are falling away from the light, the warmth. Consumed by the shadows and the cold, your fingers reach for the sky, for whatever vestige of light that your eyes can see.

It’s useless. Heaven has darkened, and wisps of smoke curl around your body, engulfing every inch. It’s freezing, everywhere. The frigid air burns in your lungs, bites at the exposed skin of your cheeks rendering it numb. Gradually, all your muscles become numb, rigid.

Stiff, falling into nothingness, you try to focus on the last ray of sunshine in the distance. Through tear coated lashes, your pupils stare until the smoke completely obscures your vision.

Something wet is on your face. Maybe it’s tears, blood. Or maybe it has begun to rain.

Descending, you close your eyes. There’s nothing to observe anymore. No sound, either. Deep in silence, you wish something would save you. What’s happening? Where’s Copia? Why isn’t he here, with you, holding your hand?

Is this… the end? Just like that? It’s not like falling asleep. No, it’s like drowning in liquid darkness, thick fluid filling your mouth and nose and permeating your lungs.

It burns, so hard. The pain doesn’t feel right. It’s not raw, real pain. No, it’s more like a vague memory, as if you were merely remembering past sensations.

Death, won’t you spare me over until another year?

Someone hauls you out of the dark pond. A frozen hand on your own. Moving your fingers, yanking your wrist. Someone is handling you, pulling, holding. A hand, long fingers, cold skin. Someone is there. Something is there.

Then…

Light, air, it’s too little, too much. Your eyes are open, but you can’t see. There’s dirt on them, something coating them. Blind, you reach out. Your ears ring, loud, so loud. It hurts, and this time the pain is right, raw, pure, vivid. You wish you could go back to where you were before, comfortably numb, lost away.

Who…

Who are you?

Everything is overly bright, too loud. There are voices, too many of them, screaming until your ears ring. Pressing on them doesn’t help. Your nails dig in your scalp, and now there’s warm, fresh blood dripping down your forehead too.

What happened?

Where are you?

Who are you?

Memory broken into pieces, shattered beyond recognition, you try to move but your body doesn’t respond. The voices keep screaming. Or maybe that’s just you. 

“The sixth angel sounded, and I heard a voice from the four horns of the golden altar which is before God, saying to the sixth angel which had the trumpet, “Loose the four angels which are bound in the great river Euphrates”. And the four angels were loosed, which were prepared to slay the third part of men. By these three was the third part of men killed, by the fire, and by the smoke, and by the brimstone, which issued out of their mouths.”

“Have you ever heard of the Codex Gigas, my girl?”

The Nameless Ghoulette stands still, long fingernails going over the edge of the desk. Copia perceives the body heat radiating from her, senses the strong outburst of intense energy that she releases.

“It’s an old tale,” she responds, clicking her tongue. “But humans like to change stories as they please, so I wouldn't know much.”

Slowly, Copia nods. The myths around Codex Gigas, known as “The Devil’s bible”, are various. “Legend says it was written during the 13th century in a Benedictine monastery in Bohemia, by a condemned monk seeking absolution. He admitted having committed numerous sins, including fornication, gluttony, envy and bestiality.”

“A spicy one,” she adds, a smile on her face. The gesture is partially obscured by the black mask, but there’s an unmistakable gleam in her pupils.

The amusement she provides is contagious. Copia allows himself to let out a few hollow chuckles, too. “That’s not what the Abbot thought. They sentenced the monk to be walled up alive, but before the punishment was completed he begged for mercy,” he explains. “They ordered him to make a book that would include all the world’s knowledge, and to do it in a single night.”

The task was impossible. In the secret underground library, Copia’s eyes absentmindedly examine the pages on top of the desk. The manuscript is ancient, faded by the inclemency of time. Next to him, the Ghoulette’s fingers continue drawing lines on the desk, nails following the swirling pattern of wood. “The monk made a deal with Satan. He surrendered his soul in exchange for the book.”

“Our Father is too kind. What use would He have for an old human soul?”

Kindness. If Copia ever had to describe Satan in a way, he’d never employ that word. Kindness is a human emotion, a trace of something He could never comprehend. Much like the infernal creature next to him, the Old One might behave and speak like a human, present himself as he wishes, but he’d never understand the whole spectrum of human emotions.

No, Satan isn’t kind or cruel. Copia used to believe he knew so much about the Lord, about the principles and history of their religion. Maybe a part of him, that intrinsic mortal part of himself, was so afraid of the unknown he clung to whatever could offer him respite. The idea of being watched over, guided, protected by Him…

That idea made Copia feel safe, wanted, needed. Now…

Now he no longer experiences such stupid feelings. “I don’t believe Satan asked for an old soul either,” he carries on, sucking in a deep breath. “I think he wanted the book to be written, shared between humans.”

“He took it as a personal project, then? Was He giving a message to humans?”

The silence in the room is profound when Copia nods, pupils observing the flickering flames of a torch. It’s cold between these walls, incredibly so. Deep in the underground tunnels, he barely remembers the sensation of the sun on his skin, the warmth coming from it.

As cold and dark as it is, Copia would rather spend most of his time there than to adventure to the upper levels, where you are kept under the watchful eye of the Nameless Ghouls. He left some of them caring for you, being unable to face the task himself without his stomach churning and hands trembling.

No, it was too hard, extremely nerve-racking. He’s a coward. Copia knows it, and yet…

Yet he’s only human, weak and flawed. No one could blame him, though. Even the Ghouls appear uneasy to spend time in your presence, flickering their tails and baring their teeth when you make a sudden move. It makes them tense, to be in front of someone who resembles a human but it’s anything but it.

An insistent tapping on the desk plumbers Copia back to the present. “It has all the world’s knowledge, from above and below. It’s a treasure to many, a curse to even more people.”

Everything has a price; Copia has learnt it long ago. Wherever that book went, chaos and blood followed. “The manuscript is now at the National Library of Sweden in Stockholm,” he continues, waving a hand and staring back at the walls. “But it’s not complete. Ten whole pages are missing, and no one knows what they say.”

From the corner of his eyes, Copia manages to catch a glimpse of the fleeting glint on the infernal creature’s eyes. The opaque glass does nothing to hide it. She’s interested in his story, probably more interested than any other ghoul would be.

It’s not a surprise. Ghoulettes are, after all, more ambitious, smarter and unruly.

The words are measured when he speaks up again. “No one but Sister Imperator and me,” he declares, moving the stack of papers closer to the demon. Her fangs glisten under the golden light when her mouth opens, a grin on the lips. “These are the missing pages. They were hidden under the Ministry, behind a secret passage. I don’t know how they came to be here, or who brought them, but whoever that was is now gone and forgotten.”

Gradually, the Ghoulette steps closer. Copia senses the faint whistle of her breathing under the mask, and endures the unmistakable heat of her body. She smells like burnt wood and smoke, a mix of sweet briar and incense coating her clothes. The sharp nails trace the pages, written in neat calligraphy. All the letters are the same size and style, still clear over the yellowish paper.

Copia’s hand darts out to prevent her from tearing the thin paper, but he halts before making contact. Ghoulettes are scarier and more dangerous than their male counterparts. They don’t react well to any aggression.

No. In general, Ghoulettes don’t react well to any man. Since the beginning of the times, they have chosen to aid women. During centuries, only priestesses were able to summon and strike a deal with Nameless Ghoulettes. It was a major surprise when pathetic, poor little Cardinal Copia was the one who without precedence managed to summon not one, but three.

Imperator was immensely proud. She bragged about it to Nihil for days. "I told you my boy is special," she said. "He's the one we were searching for, Papa."

Contrary to his own fears, the creature doesn’t shred it. The pages crack under the soft pressure, but remain intact. “What are they about?” she asks.

“How to summon Satan, the coming of the Antichrist…”

“Beware of the storms that gather in the sky,” the text said. “For the thunder will bloom and the birds will caw. Listen to the moonlit star, the one who exclaims: ‘I see no day, only the cold night that will fall, summoned by your own hand.’”

The story matches that one The Clergy used to repeat. A secretive nun, carrying the old man’s bastard child. Copia heard it a thousand times, without completely understanding all the implications of it. To many, it was just an old scary tale to tell in the dark, some wishful thinking.

And yet…

The crows were incredibly loud the night Goore was born, their file said.

“The Earth will shake and break, and death all around will rise, lifting old hopes from shallow, troubled graves. The estranged son will return, unleashed from the bottomless pit.”

Everything matches. The first time Copia read it; he didn’t pay much attention to it. Now, after everything he has gone through, after studying Goore’s old files and witnessing the raw nature of their power…

Now Copia’s eyes are wide open. Why would Satan choose someone like Goore as The One? He can’t grasp it. Goore is everything The Clergy feared and despised, everything himself tried to avoid. He was devoted, a believer… He gave up everything for this cause, for the Ghost project and the church.

Goore never had to give up anything. Goore only took and brought devastation. But...

“Straight out of Hell, the Antichrist will walk the earth.”

Maybe Copia never truly understood his own Lord. For all one knows, he is and has always been wholly Fatherless, alone.

And perhaps that’s the way it should be.

There is something else in the pages, something no one should ever witness. It’s dangerous in the wrong hands, revolutionary in good ones. And his, his are meant to hold these pages. “The last pages are the more interesting ones. They share the forbidden, necessary knowledge to become Him.”

In a swift movement, the Ghoulette’s nails press harder. Copia looks at her, notes the way her fangs are bared and her pupils are blown behind the opaque glass. “Become Him, you say?”

“Did you know Satan is a given name? Much like Emeritus, it’s only a title. It means adversary,” a pause. “The Satan we serve had this power bestowed upon, at the beginning of the times. But you know how it is with empires. They must fall, one day.”

“That’s a risky thing to affirm, especially to a servant.”

“I always thought Ghoulettes had a bit more independence, but I might be mistaken.”

The Ghoulette thinks, for long seconds. There is a loud rumble coming from her throat. “You are crazy,” she says, at last. “Completely mad, absolutely unhinged. Yet, now I see why my sisters heed your call. You have His fire. I’m curious.”

It’s time. He’s been pondering over it a lot, wondering what his next steps should be. To find himself suddenly lost, no Imperator or Saltarian to tell him what to do and no Dark Father to ask for guidance, Copia has been severely lost. Now, he’s seen the light.

With you back at his side, he can do anything. Even if you don’t completely come back as you were, he can march straight to Hell and recover whatever vestige of your soul might be still lost there.

It all makes sense now. He’s the number one, you’re his number two, and there’s so much work to do. “Are you and your sisters in the mood for some hunting? I think we have to send one last gift to our Father. As a farewell, si?”

“You know us well, Papa.” The Ghoulette leans in closer, a feral look in her eyes, pupils a slit. “Give us the command.”

In her ears, Papa whispers the words he has long wanted to tell. His white eye glimmers in the gloomy room while issuing the command and, with a click of his tongue, all the nefarious Ghoulettes are set loose on earth, to feast and to conquer.

There can only be one architect of the new world, and that is him. 

“The rest of mankind who were not killed by these plagues still did not repent of the work of their hands; they did not stop worshiping demons, and idols of gold, silver, bronze, stone and wood—idols that cannot see or hear or walk. Nor did they repent of their murders, their magic arts, their sexual immorality or their thefts.”

They pass the old ministries' ruins first. Speeding through the tombstones and the raised roots, they run to the left, then right. The starless sky remains calm, motionless and frozen in time, like the rest of the forest.

The smell of rotten flesh is what gets to them, first. It’s a murky and complex fragrance, a mix of sulfur and old blood, of decay and putrefaction. In the distance, the faint grunts and wails become a dull rumble, barely audible over the raging sound of blood pumping in their veins.

It’s natural to run, pushing vigorously until the burn on their legs makes it painful to continue moving. Wherever their feet touch, the ground trembles and shatters open, bones and remaining tissue filling with the impulse of life. Maggots and flies swamp the place, sticking to their hair and clothes, crawling in the dirt and brimming over the air.

Despite their efforts, the flesh puppets don’t last. It makes sense. Necromancy is a fine art, much like playing guitar. You can’t simply grab an old, broken, forgotten instrument from the trash and make it sing. No, you require time to repair it, tune it and make it feel right underneath your fingertips. Just like that, you can’t take a decayed corpse and infuse vital energy and a soul back into it.

And fuck, you definitely can’t do it while running for your life.

A sudden, loud noise forces Goore to duck, rendering them immobile. Their legs tremble, muscles spamming after all the effort. Heaving for air, they pant as their back hits the trunk of an ancient tree. Not too far off, probably near the remnants of the abandoned chapel, the monsters feast and tear the flesh off the undead, their growls echoing into the night.

The smell is always the worst part. Sniffing the air, Goore detects the distant tinge of blood and rain. It’s odd, the sky is clouded but calm, and rain hasn’t fallen in ages. It’s almost as if it is waiting, waiting for something to come, for the hammer to ultimately fall.

The bittersweet stink of Death follows them through the woods and the cemetery. They continue running, escaping in vain. There’s no way they can outrun beasts from Hell, but the rush from this chase fills their body with a thrill.

Yes.

Goore only feels truly alive when he’s about to die.

The path deep in the shadows calls their name. Mary follows it, heavy combat boots crushing the dead leaves. The smell grows more pungent, distinctive, before the glint of a black mask becomes evident in his side vision.

Oh, there she is.

One of them, at least. The other two are apparently still hiding in the shadows, waiting to pounce and sink their claws and teeth in skin and muscle tissue. Goore’s boots sink into a mix of mud and leaves, fingers reaching up to remove a few branches off their hair.

Is this it, then?

The Ghoulette’s head tilts to one side by degrees, movement blurry and paused. There’s a loud crackling sound coming from her, a deep growl circling around them. Goore stares, and it resembles the feeling of watching a movie that’s slightly corrupted, all missing frames and delayed noises. In the distance, he hears a final wail, and it’s not hard to sense the last one of their flesh puppets has fallen.

Well, it was fun while it lasted, at least.

“Are we delaying this any further, or…?” They ask, voice vaguely coated with mockery. “Are you supposed to deliver a message?”

No one answers. Those round glasses on the visor glint, mask slowly regaining its original position before tilting to the other side. Mary’s skin shivers when something blows air over the exposed skin of his neck and hell, there is the other one.

Right next to them.

The razor sharp claws dig over their leather jacket, making it creak. The strength is not enough to pierce the thick material, but Goore nevertheless feels the bite. From up close, the glint in the creature’s eyes is almost blinding. Her pupils remain nothing but slits, thin and long, inside the irises. He notices it even through the dark glass.

“No message for you,” a voice says. It comes from within the forest.

Silence grows more deafening in the woods. Not even the bugs dare to disturb it. The only sound comes from their wild, beating heart and from the rush of hot blood, so loud in their ears. “I’m a bit disappointed,” their voice is a growl, a low rumble through gritted teeth. “He could at least curse me, at the end.”

“Don’t worry. We’ll curse you enough.”

Everything goes dark. It’s only a few seconds, a blink it’s all it takes. When Mary opens their eyes again, they are staring right into the clouded sky. The tree tops obscure their vision, leaves falling in slow motion before swirling in the wind. The ground is damp under their back, and something wet trickles down their forehead.

Blood. It tastes like blood when they lick their lips to clean it off. A drumming sound fills his ears, rhythmic and rapid. Mary inhales, snatches a shallow breath before enduring the burning cold of the air. The indistinct murmur of the demons comes from their right, words almost unintelligible.

Fuck. They are awake, but soon it will change. These creatures are hungry for blood and despair, insatiable. Goore fears no death, not anymore, yet the pain stabs their nerves right to the core. Once again, their body grows cold, muscles tense and skin too tight.

“Should we play with it first?”

“Papa said to have fun.”

Mary blinks once, then twice. Each time their eyes open, there’s the same gloomy sky and the tree tops. Their head hangs to one side, body completely limp in the hands of the demons. The stench of blood is extremely pungent, and their clothes are completely soaked in it.

Fuck. The world moves around them in a hazy bliss, almost like a dream they can’t completely wake up from. Midnight has passed long hours ago, and now it’s the devil’s time, the hour for them to rise again and bathe in the perverted lust of gore.

If the glimmering fangs and shiny eyes of a demon it’s the last thing they see, that’s okay. They feel no guilt, no shame. Heart hammering in their ribcage, wild adrenaline pumping along the blood, Goore smiles one last time. They only wonder how long it’ll be until they are reborn in morbidity, just like before.

Until then, they’ll remain as nothing but another bloody corpse, forgotten and buried under an upside-down cross.

“The seventh angel sounded his trumpet, and there were loud voices in heaven, which said: “The kingdom of the world has become the kingdom of our Lord and of his Christ, and he shall reign for ever and ever.” And the temple of God was opened in heaven, and there was seen in his temple the ark of his testament: and there were lightning, and voices, and thunderings, and an earthquake, and great hail.”

“Amore, careful there, please.”

This place… Copia recalls it as if it was yesterday. He had been ordained Papa, there was a party in his honor and he felt overwhelmed, shaken. Imperator urged him to prance around and talk to people, something he dreaded. He hid underground, in his sheltered place away from prying ears and judgmental eyes.

You were beautiful, as always, but even more wonderful that night. Copia feels his throat tighten at the remembrance, caresses the memory inside of his mind with barely the tip of his fingers. He doesn’t want to stain it, doesn’t wish for it to shatter under the weight of his actions.

Oh, how ethereal you looked, how soft your voice was when you asked him to dance with you. He recalls the fragrance of your perfume, the softness of your hair on his cheek when he leaned his face on the top of your head. How gentle your embrace was, that time. How grateful he felt to be alive, to be able to experience all the wonder of your love, the tenderness of your touch.

Tonight, among the same walls, Copia feels like crying. If it’s out of happiness from having you back or pure despair for all these past months, he doesn’t know it.

“Lasciate ogne speranza, voi ch'intrate"

“Careful here too, my dear,” Copia guides you through the door, eyes buried on the ancient inscriptions that sit at the top of the old stone. Your hands are stiff, and your body moves practically in slow motion, not quite following the same rhythm you used to have.

It’s okay, he understands how tired you must be, how much your muscles and heart ache. Copia’s fingers scarcely trace over your wrists and back of the hands, supporting you as if you were about to break into a thousand pieces with the slight pressure.

Oh, how careful he is, how attentive. He shushes softly, whispering sweet nothings into the air as he escorts you through the place. The black blindfold blocks your sight, but your head follows the sound of his voice and he can almost picture the adoring look in your pupils, the gentleness of your gaze.

If the blindfold is there to shield you from overstimulation or to protect himself from the hate it might fill your stare, he doesn’t recognize it either.

It doesn’t matter. Copia stops in the middle of the ample room, next to the old fountain. His arms embrace you, and you melt into his hold. Copia’s heart stops, restarts at a measured pace, both heavy and pained. You melt into him, between his arms, as if you have never belonged anywhere else. 

Silently, he accepts it. Stiff and frightened, his breath hitches when your hand raises, slow as if someone was gradually pulling from the strings that hold you together.

When your nails hardly caress one strand of his hair, Copia feels like crying again. No, not crying. Breaking down, sobbing, wailing, screaming into the night. He's tired, so fatigued and wounded, but your touch is so affectionate, lovingly. It feels like a dream. Even if it's nothing but muscle memory, you cling onto him just like you did that night, so many years ago.

The world seemed so small back then. 

Copia allows you to card your fingers through his hair like a young boy tasting love for the first time. To the entire world, he might be the terrible and ruthless Papa Emeritus the IV, a merciless murderer, but not to you. To you, he’s sentimental and vulnerable, nothing but an enamored fool.

Not a single sound breaks the calming silence. Standing in the middle of the room, he looks at you with full attention for the first time in forever. You have become a strange and beautiful companion, skin still ghastly but slowly recovering a glimpse of life. Immobile, your face bears a languid expression and your breathing is so fast your chest rises and falls with a tumultuous respiration.

Copia wants to soothe you, to give you the whole world if you desire so. “I’ll ask you something, just like what you asked that night after I became Papa," he whispers, instead. "Can I be the first person to dance with you, now that you have returned to me? ”

There’s no reply. No verbal, at least. Unhurriedly, your arm lifts up in his direction, extended hand hanging in the air that separates both of you. Copia's mouth remains agape, eyes wide open. If you are a serpent of temptation, the snake offering him the apple of sin, then he’s Eve’s trembling hand blindly reaching for you.

He takes it and knows there’s no turning back. Your hands are cold, but he can’t let go. No, there’s no moment to let go. He’s been calling for you for so long, just like he’d call forever. Copia’s face falls on your shoulders, lips trembling as he presses a light kiss over the soft material of your clothes. He chokes on the whimpers his mouth refuses to let out, eyes closing and brows furrowing. His lids stay pressed tight, lashes coating in tears.

A hand on your waist and another holding your wrist, Copia begins to move slowly. It’s like that first time he danced with you, soon after the release of Prequelle. He was incredibly nervous back then, so scared of you. A part of him feels the same now, nothing but old Cardinal Copia clinging to an unknown Sibling of Sin, wishing for the night to never end. 

The air is frozen inside his lungs when your hand moves to his shoulder. Most of your body is still limp, so Copia holds close, guiding you around the place. Eyes closed, he bears most of your weight, experiencing the renewed ardor of a lover. His breath hitches when your cold lips travel along his cheek in the resemblance of a kiss.

Oh, no. He feels like sobbing again, lower lip quivering as he murmurs on your habits. “You are mine,” he declares, placing another kiss. “You and I are one forever.”

Underground, hiding from a world on fire, Copia has never felt more at peace. He is awake in your coiling spirit, illuminated in blood and fire.

It's natural for his hands to tighten on your body. The dancing becomes faster, flowing on the old marble floor. Copia senses how your fingers slowly curl on his clothes too, feet barely gaining a bit more of traction. He hums a song, the same song you hummed for him that time, the same one he used to sing to you on long nights before sleeping to help you relax, or after interminable nights of loving you under the moonlight.

The melody is carried by the air and resonates on the walls before getting lost in the long halls. There’s no one else there, no ghouls or demons, no Satan or human that could ever interrupt this moment. Forever, he’ll dance with you forever, cling to you forever, be with you forever…

There’s a sting in the way your lips graze over his cheek again, barely brushing his own when his head turns around. The bells chime in the distance, coming from a now forgotten chapel. If this is the last time before the end, he just wants to be with you all night.

Below the surface, locked in a loving embrace and following the faint melody of his humming, you two waltz in circles.

“Copia?" You call. There's something wrong, because the sound seems to be coming from far away, anywhere but your vocal cords. It's too rough, full of static. 

Throat dry, Copia struggles to find his own voice too. The anguish claws at his neck, but it doesn't matter. You don't give him time to answer anyway.

"I think it’s going to rain soon.”

Those words. He remembers them. Those words haunted him for days and night. You told him that, the night you confessed to him how scared you were for his safety, how much you feared for yourself too. Oh, he should have heed your words, should have listened to you. 

No, instead he disregarded your worries, ignored your warning. He won't do that, never again.

"Yes, amore," he mutters, this time. "The wind has changed." 

The silence falls upon both of you, once again. He doesn't mind it. It’s okay. No one will hurt you again. No one will bring you any harm. Copia will make sure of it. There’s no one else who could oppose him or challenge him.

No.

He’s God now.

Outside, the first drops of rain hit the ground. Soon, it hails. 

“The lawless one opposes and exalts himself above every so-called god or object of worship, so that he takes his seat in the temple of God, declaring himself to be God …”

2 Thessalonians 2:3–12

The end.

[siarrawrites]

just thinking of ideas out loud on here, to get it out of my system

i see a lot of deaged!loki ending up on earth with the avengers and that’s very fun, but I’m always left wondering… what happens when he doesn’t grow up?

a lot of stories end with bb!lokes finding his place in the avengers or young avengers and found family, and i guess it’s either assumed that odin makes him mortal as part of the punishment or maybe just thinking he’ll age at the same rate as a human until he hits adulthood idk

but even then!! he’d have made these connections, found a family that loved him on earth, only for them to inevitably pass away after only a small fraction of his lifetime. and if part of his punishment is to be stuck on earth for the rest of his life, then he’s watching the kids die someday too, morgan and cooper and lila, and then their kids, and their kids, and so on and so forth.

and it makes sense if thats entirely the point. that when the avengers first take in kid!loki and accept him, they might think this was done as a chance for loki to grow up right this time, to grow up to appreciate earth. but then they realize that theyre getting older, their kids are getting older. and loki is staying the same.

and that’s when they realize the horrible brilliance of odin’s punishment: for loki to grow up losing anyone he’s close to over, and over, and over again. for the only stable, permanent connections he has to be any asgardians that deign to visit him over the thousands of years his earth friends continue dying in front of him.

what would loki look like growing up like that? i can’t see him being happy or healthy. maybe he would try to make the most of each generation, but imagine a human kid growing up with a new group of friends and family every year, after the old ones pass away over and over. there’s just no way he wouldn’t end up trying to distance himself from the pain by pushing people away, but still feeling drawn to them anyways.

maybe he would find a way to make it work, if inhumanly, by loving them the way people can love generations of pet hamsters, because it hurts too much to see them as anything other than pets. or maybe the cycle would repeat, and he would end up, inevitably, as the villain again, seeing generation after generation make the same mistakes and thinking he might as well rule them like the short lived ants they are.

idk i just think this is fascinating, and it would be interesting to see a fic where the avengers realize this, and have to try to deal with it somehow. have to ask loki to try to hold on to his love for others, knowing what he’s going to go through. maybe asking him to take care of the future generations of their families, in order to try to tie him to something.

either way, angst abounds! no quick fixes in my stuff, he WILL be living on earth for thousands of years, and everyone WILL have to deal with this. except for odin of course, bc since when does odin actually deal with the problems of his own making.

[skittlesfics]

name: the first kiss (just friends prequel) read part one

pairing: Eddie Munson x Reader

word count: 790

summary: sometimes, friends can kiss. Or you think so, at least.

content/warnings: fluff, fem reader, weed smoking

author’s note: This is the (first?) prequel to just friends! I've gotten several requests for it, and was gonna shove a bunch of kisses into one fic, but I don't want to rush the other two just to get them out. Hope you enjoy!

-

You accepted the joint, fingers tingling when they briefly brushed the callouses on Eddie’s fingertips, and flashed the boy a sleepy grin.

You didn’t know the song that was playing from the record player in the corner, but you did know that it wasn’t metal and the bassline was making your brain feel all vibrate-y and heavy.

You held the joint to your lips, the tip slightly spit-slicked where Eddie hadn’t dried his lips before taking a hit. It might have been gross if it were anyone else, but this was Eddie, and so it made your heart beat a little faster and your chest feel a little tighter.

Eddie’s warm hand fell to your bare knee and when you looked up at him, he was leaning back against the wall, head bopping to the music, not even looking at the spot on your leg that his thumb traced so naturally. You pretended like it didn’t burn, forcing yourself to inhale slowly to stave off the tickle in the back of your throat.

You offered the joint back and Eddie took it with his free hand, leaving the other planted firmly on your knee. It was all you could think about as you shakily exhaled, that single point of contact spreading heat across your whole body.

It was a good thing Eddie was high, too. Some friend you were, letting a little touch get to your head when he was just trying to casually share a joint.

He offered it to you again and you waved it away, too awash in sensation to risk going even further.

“Eds, I’m so fucking high.” You admitted as he ashed the joint into the tray he’d stolen from Wayne’s smoking spot outside, a laugh bubbling unbidden from your throat. You covered your mouth to stifle the giggles, but Eddie grinned, scooting closer.

“’s that so?” He asked, his hand leaving your knee to curl around your shoulders, the other hand quickly taking its place so that you never felt the loss.

You nodded, laughing again even though nothing was funny, and Eddie couldn’t help but laugh with you. The sound was rich and smooth, like chocolate and honey and any number of delightful things you couldn’t think of right now.

“I like your laugh.” You said out loud, and then he stopped laughing, dark eyes falling on your face like you had just confessed something. Maybe you had, you couldn’t be sure when he was looking at you that way, all serious and intense.

“How much?” He asked. This time when his hand left your knee, it was to take your chin between thumb and index finger, and you couldn’t complain at that, so you just blinked up at him, unsure what to say. You wondered, vaguely, if you had ever noticed how nice Eddie’s lips were, the plump curve of them looking perfectly kissable with him this close. You wondered if he would let you try. Just to see. Just as friends.

You didn’t realize that you had forgotten to reply until Eddie was tilting your face up, smiling in that way he did when he had an idea that might be a little crazy, but would be worth it in the end.

“I said, ‘how much?’ Huh, princess?” He teased, but there was no heat to it. He was all laughs and thick lashes and soft touches that made you just want to melt into him.

“How much do you want me to?” you managed, still not sure what he wanted from you. You liked his laugh. You liked it a lot, but it wasn’t something you could just… quantify. It was a feeling.

“Enough to want to kiss me?” It was an answer, and a question, and a request all at once. Those brown eyes were on you again all big and wanting and warm, and how could you ever say no? Especially since you had been thinking about it anyway.

Your head was still pounding with the bassline, but it felt almost pleasant as you nodded, tongue darting out to wet your lips as you realized that Eddie was already leaning closer, eyes falling shut as he pulled you into the sweetest kiss.

His lips were just as soft as they looked, and his mouth was as warm as the rest of him. Which was to say that he was molten and you were finally melting into him, sighing into his kiss, wrapping your arms around his neck to keep him close when he pulled away for air. You needn’t have worried, he was right there again, lips finding yours, kissing you until you both were too high and too tired to discuss what this was going to mean.

[calltomuster]

(More) Star Wars Fic Recs

[first fic rec list]

Hello everyone, hope you've been having a lovely week! Here's another list of some fics I've really enjoyed reading or rereading recently. I try to have a mix of things I don't think got enough love, fics from a while ago that deserve to be reread, stuff from writers on Tumblr, and of course, just stuff I think is great.

atmosphere level by softredscrunchie (gen, one-shot, 1k words, Obi-Wan & Satine) Obi-Wan's hurt and sick and annoyed so Satine decides to distract him by arguing passionately that Mandalore is, in fact, flat. Obi-Wan, being the nerd he is, gets more and more wound up as she refuses to back down. This fic is one of the funniest things I've read in a long while, highly recommend if you're having a bad day.

a comedy in four acts by jesuisdeux (gen, one-shot, 4k words, Obi-Wan & Dooku & Yoda) Obi-Wan and Dooku both time-travel from the point of their deaths way back to when Obi-Wan was a young Padawan. Ft. Classic Dooku glowering at a 13 year-old, caring and empathetic Yoda, and Obi-Wan flat out telling a very confused Qui-Gon that he's gonna kill Dooku.

the day begins with burning by @kototyph (gen, one-shot, 6.3k words, Obi-Wan & Anakin) This fic takes place in a world where the Jedi Order finds out about the Tusken massacre and puts Anakin on trial (internally). We start off right as the Council is delivering their verdict, and it's a roller coaster of emotions from start to finish. I like it because it does not shy away from the fact that Anakin murdered a bunch of people and there really need to be consequences for that, but also isn't just Anakin bashing. The relationship between Anakin and Obi-Wan really shines through here.

The Ghosts of Memory by @pandora15 (gen, one-shot, 2.1k words, Obi-Wan & Anakin & Ahsoka) Obi-Wan and Anakin are invited back to Naboo for the ten year anniversary of the battle. I mean, that sounds relatively benign but OOF. So many feelings. So many thoughts of what could have been. Go read this fic!

Anamorphosis by avocadomoon (Obi-Wan/Padmé, one-shot, 33.5k words) Obi-Wan and (a slightly older) Padmé keep in touch after the events on Naboo and keep their eventual marriage out of the public eye. Qui-Gon lives, but the Council still doesn't accept Anakin for training so he and Shmi are taken in by a wonderful benefactor -- Sheev Palpatine. Nothing can go wrong there, right? This is an absolutely fascinating re-imagining of the prequels era. I'm so sad it's only a one-shot, because there's so much to explore here.

on sith holocrons and misunderstandings by billowypants (gen, one-shot, 7.2k words, Obi-Wan & Anakin) As the summary says, "de-aged!Obi-Wan has the same Force bonds as adult Obi-Wan, and he does not react well." Bit of an understatement, that. This fic really makes me feel bad for both Obi-Wan and Anakin. Wrap them up in blankets and give them hugs, please.

In Control by @kckenobi (gen, one-shot, 3.5k words, Obi-Wan & Anakin) I don't normally seek out fics with young Anakin, but I love KCKenobi's stuff so I was like "I'm game" and that was most definitely not a mistake. What a cute fic this is! The basic premise is that Anakin is getting his license to drive/fly a speeder and poor Obi-Wan is dragged along for the ride, literally. Highly recommend.

always gold by @happygiraffe (gen, 4/4 chapters, 10k words, Obi-Wan & Anakin) Obi-Wan hasn't been Master to Anakin for that long before he finds out his cancer is back. Oh man. Let me tell you, I don't cry easily. Really, I don't. But the most recent time I read this fic, I had to set my phone down at the end and ugly-sob for literally ten minutes before I could properly compose myself. It affected me that much. This fic showed me the power of words. My only hope is that one day I will be able to accomplish what @happygiraffe has with this fic!

fill pages with scribbled ink by magneticwave (Obi-Wan/Padmé, one-shot, 9.8k words) If I haven't talked about this fic already on here (and I might have?) then I have committed a crime. It's another Obi-Wan/Padmé fic, which is a ship I've never had a problem with but don't normally seek out, but the ones on this list are so, so good. This fic is told entirely through comm messages, and it's such a brilliant way to tell this story. I cheered the whole way through.

having loved a little while by @giggles-and-freckles (Padmé/Anakin, 1.5k words, Padmé & Ahsoka, Ahsoka & Anakin) Okay genuinely I had a hard time deciding between the four(?) fics @giggles-and-freckles wrote for the Chaos Company Exchange because they all brought me such joy, but this one stands out. Padmé is teaching Ahsoka how to cook in her apartment and they're having a really lovely moment when Anakin bursts in and then has to try and explain his unexpected presence to Ahsoka. This story had me going "awww!" in the beginning and then dying of laughter by the end. So much fun, seriously. I laughed out loud multiple times.

If you like any of these fics, please consider reblogging so they can get more exposure! And if you noticed I missed someone's Tumblr account, or linked the wrong one, please let me know!

[theyreonlynoodlesmike]

It’s Just a Movie: Part 15 (Poly!Lost Boys x reader) fic

<- Previous Chapter Next Chapter ->

Warnings: angst, depression, blood mention

Word Count: 2081

(( This chapter is mainly just exposition cause I actually want to finish this story and not lose mojo for it!! Hope you guys enjoy!! ))

Nightly visits to the boardwalk never seemed to get boring, even if it’s what you had been doing for months. With the boys, your boys, you could never be bored. Time passed like grains of sand in an hourglass, each day slipping out of your fingers and down to the bottom. As the summer months got closer, the less you felt like going home. 

Of course, you had your days, and your phases. Something would happen, usually small, and you’d find yourself reaching for your phone. You had stopped bringing it with you to the boardwalk, finding that you couldn’t take it out on the boardwalk and it wasn’t like you could use it much anyways. And sometimes that was it. You’d remind yourself that you hadn’t brought it with you, that you had no use for it, and that was it. But not always. There were days, days that didn’t start occurring until after you’d been there for over three months, where that realization would encircle your heart like a cruel fist. It’d squeeze, and you would suddenly feel out of place. Wrong. Lost. 

Those moments racked through you, and there was hardly much you could do to stop the aftermath the first time it happened. Sobs would escape your mouth before you could stop them, and the boys had been just as taken aback as you were. They had, unfortunately, seen you cry before. But that had been from their own actions. Your sudden break, sudden sorrow, had been confusing to all of them. Though, of course, there were a couple of them who were more vocal than the others. You were lucky that you hadn’t left the cave yet. You had cried for nearly hours, with the boys trying in various ways to get you to stop until they finally just let you let it out.

When you were finally able to explain, you found that they understood more than you thought they would. It was then that you reminded yourself that they were lost too.

You had been lying in your bed with David besides you. They were taking turns trying to cheer you up before, but there was something about the blonde that comforted you just a tad bit more than the others. Perhaps it was that he wasn’t telling you it was going to get better. Or trying to make you laugh. Or trying to cheer you up at all. He was simply there, smoking in your room no matter if you asked him not to. You were laying your head on his chest, which was silent under your ear. After an hour of silence, David decided to speak.

“We all went through, well, something similar.” He said suddenly, and you lifted your head. Confusion was evident on your face, and you said an audible, 

“Huh?” David blew the smoke towards the ceiling and shook his head, gesturing to you.

“Your- whatever it was. I guess your denial stage is over.” He said, and you sat up. Denial? For some reason, David was the best at flaring your temper, and his words did exactly that. You had been dating all of them for two months at that point, and David knew what anger looked like on your face fairly well by then.

“Denial?” You echoed, and you watched as the blonde took another drag. In the past months that you’d been dating them, you’d learned to read all of them fairly well too, and you could tell David wished he hadn’t said anything. As annoying as he could be, you found that he just liked getting on your nerves. Not getting into actual fights. He sat up as well, but he leaned back against the mountain of pillows that the boys had collected for you.

“Denial. You were telling yourself that this wasn’t really happening. That you weren’t really staying here.” He said, and you couldn’t believe that he had the nerve to bring this up again. You scoffed, shaking your head as you moved away from him. Now, some things made sense. Why he’d dropped the topic so many months before. He knew you couldn’t control it, and he chose to chalk up your reluctance as denial. You couldn’t believe him, and you had half a mind to tell him to get out before he was reaching for your hand. “I’m saying this because we went through it too, y/n. We all had to mourn our old lives.” He said, and you stared at him in a whirlwind of confusion and anger. But there was something about what he’d said that struck you. It never occurred to you that the boys had anything to leave behind. Sure, you had read the prequel script, but there wasn’t anything solid. Anything that had made it to the screen. You shook your head.

“But I’m not- I’m not like you. I’m not a vampire. And I’m not- We don’t know if I’m staying forever.” You said, and he stared at you. You watched the way his eyes changed. How just the tiniest bit of disappointment had crept into them. In the two months since you’d started dating, David had become more affectionate. You weren’t surprised when he reached out to cup your cheek, and you let him. Even if your anger was still brewing. 

“I know.” You could tell that he wanted to say more. Hell, it was rare that he was ever this quiet, and now you almost wished that he would monologue at you. But, whatever he wanted to say, it seemed he had decided you weren’t ready for it yet. Or that he didn’t want the fight that would follow it. Instead, he held out his arms and said, “C’mere.” It was a small command, and you narrowed your eyes at him before you sighed and gave in. You crawled back into his arms, tucking your head under his chin as his arms wrapped around you. Neither of you spoke of the topic anymore, even if his words had caused a new flurry of thoughts inside your head. 

You’d been depressed for a few weeks afterwards. Angry and irritable. And, sometimes, just the tad bit resentful of the four. But, you quickly reminded yourself that this wasn’t their fault, and those feelings dissolved as time moved on and the wound began to heal. There were other moments when the wound would reopen, just as painful and wrenching as the first time that you realized you may be stuck there for good, but those times became fewer and farther in-between until the approaching summer brought on a whole new wave of something else. Excitement. Anxiety. Doubt. 

And the closer it got, the more difficult it became to ignore your situation. It was finally a week in late March that you asked David what he had in mind for when you met Star, and it had taken all of the boys by surprise. It wasn’t that you hadn’t been planning for the summer, but none of them had dared to discuss any plans that involved factoring you into it. And when you asked, you couldn’t help but notice how it had pleased your boyfriends. Even if they did their best to hide it, though some were better than others. It was growing increasingly difficult to pay attention to David’s ideas when Paul kept kissing down your neck, and Marko wasn’t helping either. He was holding your hand, and if you dared to look in his direction then he would take that as an opportunity to lean in and steal a quick press of your lips. And if you didn’t? Well, he would simply nuzzle your cheek instead. Finally, after a glare from David, you had settled to sit in Dwayne’s lap. Even then, the brunette kept squeezing your waist every so often, and you swore that you could feel him smiling, just ever so slightly, into your hair.

By the time June arrived, acceptance was inevitable. It was officially summer, and there you were. Still in sunny Santa Carla. Not that you got to see the sun that often. But you had been in their world for seven months, and your world seemed like a thing of the past. And as your nerves for the upcoming events grew, you could hardly spare a thought for your home. 

There was no clear indicator as to when the Emersons would arrive, and you didn’t have the internet to research. The best you could do once summer arrived was wait. You weren’t the only one that this was proving difficult for, and certain boys seemed ready to pull their hair out when a hint of what was to arrive finally came. Max, no matter how well the boys hid you, had asked if the boys had started seeing anyone. He assured that he hadn’t actually seen you, but he’d said he could rather smell you. Apparently, a feminine scent was hanging off of all of them. The boys did their best to dodge the topic, and dodge mentioning you. The five of you were worrying about how you were going to cover your tracks when you finally caught sight of a curly haired brunette just at the turn of the month. 

The five of you had been on the boardwalk together, going on one of your weekly group dates. Dwayne had his arm around you, even if Paul was trying his best to snatch you out from under him. Your breath had hitched when you saw her. You had to admit. She was gorgeous, even if the sight of her made you feel like you were going to faint. Or throw up. Or both. It was Dwayne that called your name before he asked,

“You okay?” And you quickly looked up at the brunette. You looked ahead, pointing with your eyes, at the barefooted and red lipped girl floating through the crowd. When the others saw her, it sobered any fun that they’d been having. It was time. You’d all been discussing it for literal months, and now it was time to put that plan into action. You reached out for the boy besides you, your hand tangling into Pauls’, and you gave it a hard squeeze. The thought repeated in your mind. It was time. 

You didn’t know if it was anxiety or adrenaline, but the night seemed to pass by in a blur. You remembered David approaching her, the drive back to the cave, and now you were sitting on the couch with the girl, Star, sitting besides you. You felt a similar feeling as to the first time you met the boys. Disbelief. Surprise. A strange feeling that this couldn’t be real, even if the past seven months made it obvious that it was. 

You didn’t expect to get along with her, but it came as a welcome surprise. Stars face had a way of lighting up as she laughed, and it was helped with how much Paul joked with her from his spot on the wall. Both you and Dwayne smiled, Dwayne’s arm wrapped around the back of your seat on the couch. Marko stood besides David’s chair, egging Paul’s joke on further while David sat in his chair, smoked, and laughed at their banter. You were having a good time, even if what was going to happen soon itched at the back of your mind. Even if you knew the events of the future, it was hard to imagine, at least right now, that Star would be alright with betraying them. Even if you had just met, you had to admit that she fit into the group almost a little too well. And you tried to not let jealousy crowd your thoughts, even if it was David's flirting that had gotten her to come to the cave. You reminded yourself that she ended up with Michael. Whatever she thought of your boys now, it'd change the second she saw Michael. If not the second she turned.

When David finally offered her the bottle, you almost felt bad. Almost wanted to stop it. You even went as far as flicking your gaze to David's. But you couldn’t change what needed to be done. Not when she was the one who reeled in Michael. Not when Max was starting to become suspicious. Not when the boys' lives were at stake. That's exactly what David's eyes told you. So, you watched as Star drank the blood.

[blouisparadise]

Here is a list of amazing bottom Louis fics that were posted or completed during the month of January. Between the third month of the Bottom Louis Fic Fest and all the other fics that authors posted throughout the month, it’s clear that this was a great way to start off the year of bottom Louis fics!  Happy reading!

1) Leave It All Here In This Bed | Explicit | 1071 words

One of Louis’s many sleepless nights.

2) Games Are Only Fun If You Win | Explicit | 1554 words

Louis and Harry have a bet. If Louis wins that means he's off laundry duty. If he loses well.

Let's just say Harry won't be complaining.

3) If It Makes You Feel Alive | Explicit | 1691 words

Louis is horny one night on the tour bus so he and Harry fuck while trying not to get caught by the others.

4) Beg Me Silently | Explicit | 2140 words

“So, your boyfriend…is he planning a magic night for you at home?”

Louis snorts. “He’s not, actually. He’s pretty hardworking, you see, so he comes home late.”

“Such a shame.” Harry walks towards Louis, so close that they’re sharing the same space. “You’re so beautiful, Louis. If you were mine, I wouldn’t make you wait for me.”

5) Birthday Wishes | Explicit | 2895 words

Note: This is part 3 of this series.

The one where Harry takes Louis to dinner for his birthday, and gifts him with a vibrating butt plug he wears to the restaurant. Fluffy birthday sex follows.

6) New Year, New Beginnings | Explicit | 3577 words

Note: This is part 4 of this series.

The one where Louis and Harry unexpectedly end up at the same New Year's party. Louis makes Harry jealous, and Harry shows him just how bad of an idea that is.

7) Heaven In These Sheets | Explicit | 3557 words

Bunny Hybrid Louis has it out for his boyfriend’s phone.

8) Pits Of Love | Explicit | 3934 words

Harry smells Louis' sweat for the first time after they've moved in together. His alpha goes a bit wild.

9) First Blow Hits You Cold | Explicit | 3986 words

Louis wears a shirt with a big ass H on it for his livestream, and Harry really, really likes it.

10) Close Your Eyes And Surrender To Me | Explicit | 4209 words

Note: This is the sequel to this fic.

Harry hummed and pressed his lips to Louis’ forehead. “I am very stressed, but I also know you’re stressed and tired too.” He glanced to Louis’ face seeing the confirming nod. “But, if you’re sure you’re up for it.” Harry smirked, waiting for Louis to say it was okay before he laid the boy down on the bed and hovered over him. “I really love this color on you. You look so pretty. Always do.” He spoke quietly, rubbing his hands over Louis’ soft thighs and moving them to his tummy. He then moved his hands up to Louis’ hair. It had been a while since Louis’ last haircut and it was now long enough that he could tie it up in little ponytails and even little braids. Louis currently had two hair clips in his hair. One was gold with little stars on it and the other gold with a moon. “I love your hair princess. Do you feel pretty?” He asked.

11) P Is For | Explicit | 4349 words

Note: The pairing for this fic is Louis/Pedro Pascal.

Louis and Pedro, winter in New York, a coffee machine, and bilingualism.

12) Pull Out Your Heart | Explicit | 5028 words

He wants to apologise, the five letters sit on the tip of his tongue but he does not. It means nothing to either of them.

13) Loving You's the Antidote | Explicit | 5070 words

Note: This fic was written for the Bottom Louis Fic Fest! Check out the full collection here.

Prompt 302: Alpha Harry & Omega Louis are divorced but still spend each other’s heat/rut together because they only really trust each other but things get complicated when Louis (or Harry, author’s choice) spend it with someone else. Cue angst with a happy ending.

14) Sweet Talk With A Hint Of Sin | Explicit | 5095 words

“What the hell are you wearing?” Harry had the nerve to ask, and Louis bristled slightly.

“Well, what the bloody fuck does it look like?” Louis snapped, breaking his seductive demeanor momentarily because he was wearing this ridiculous get-up for Harry. He had thought that this would go over well.

And now that the moment was here, it was going anything but.

Harry’s brain seemingly malfunctioned, completely unbothered by the fact that he was now standing in an actual pool of red wine, or that there might even be broken glass directly next to his feet. He was focused solely on his boy splayed out on their bed. “Are those ears?”

“Yes,” Louis mumbled, reaching up to finger the burnt orange fur of the fox ears. “And a tail,” he said, shifting to lay on his stomach so that his perky ass was on display, showing the way his lube slicked hole had been prepped and was now hugging the impressively sized plug attached to the fox tail.

15) New York's Beauty | Mature | 5274 words

Note: This fic was written for the Bottom Louis Fic Fest! Check out the full collection here.

Prompt 104: AU where Harry is an alpha wolf and Louis is a hybrid kitten. They were roommates. While they were arguing about something stupid, Harry wanted to bend Louis over the kitchen table and knot him right there. He slowly accepted his feelings and extreme desire for Louis, so he started to tease the hybrid until he would beg Harry to fuck him. They fall in love.

Louis needs to feel comfortable with the camera so harry fucks him until he is blushing and calm and gentle.

16) I Went Astray To Make It Okay And He Made It Easy | Not Rated | 5537 words

Note: This is a sequel to #17 on this list.

Harry makes sure to put on his blue truckers hat that has 'if you ain't a fisherman, you ain't shit' printed on it to hold back his hair out of his eyes. He remembers when he came home after buying it and Louis went on for days about much he looked like such a Dad. He made sure to fuck him hard that night and show him that he's a fucking DILF not just a Dad. 

17) You Make My Heart Beat Like The Rain | Explicit | 6611 words

Note: This is the prequel to #16 on this list.

"You're stunning, eh?" Harry whispers, his Canadian accent thick with lust. It usually slips out when he gets horny because he knows it turns Louis on. Harry presses his lips into the curve of his neck. His hot breath makes Louis shiver. He opens his eyes and sees Harry's bigger, tattooed arms wrapped around him, completely engulfing his smaller frame—and, fuck, maybe he is up for it.

Why does his boyfriend have to be such a fucking DILF? He blames it on a twitter thread he read a few weeks ago.

18) Baby, Let Me Love You Goodbye | Explicit | 6837 words

Harry and Louis are going through a divorce after being together for 10 years, so Louis comes over to collect his things, and, well…what’s a little goodbye sex, just one last time?

19) A Place To Call Home | Mature | 8113 words

The thing is, he’s pretty sure he’s found home in a person in his life, someone who’s been essential in everything he’s done since he was seven years old. Through every broken bone, through every breakup, through every failure; through every triumph, personal and professional, and every goal he has scored in his time in Man U, there’s been someone there for it all.

That’s his best mate. Harry. A twenty-two year old with the kindest heart known to man, a slow drawl that is entirely too endearing, with the dreams to open up his own flower shop. A quiet and earnest boy with those he doesn’t know, and open and honest and absolutely lovely with those he loves.

It all hits him, really, the night of their final game of the Premier League. Again, timing is not his forté. They’re gearing up, ready to hit the field for the second half against Liverpool that determines their ranking in the League, when his brain decides to come online (after seventeen years, apparently), and conveniently supply him with the revelation that oh yeah, you’re kind of in love with your best friend.

20) To Love Without Reason | Explicit | 8854 words

Note: This fic was written for the Bottom Louis Fic Fest! Check out the full collection here.

“Come on in, soldier,” Louis pats Harry’s chest and walks away, leaving Harry to follow behind.

Harry stands in the living room, looking around at Louis’ dwelling. Family pictures placed high on a shelf, certificates of Louis’ practice, and other trinkets that make Harry entirely too nostalgic.

“I have to warn you,” Louis says as he puts the kettle on, the water droplets from his hair trickling down the golden skin of his back. “The door jams if you lock it so you'll have to leave it ajar.”

Harry acknowledges with a soft hum, too entranced by Louis’ glistening skin to form a coherent reply.

21) It's A Game We Play In The Sheets | Explicit | 9426 words

Note: This fic was written for the Bottom Louis Fic Fest! Check out the full collection here.

“Louis is… He’s a boy I’ve been talking to.” He bit his lip, grin evident. “After I watched one of his videos during a Harry Reacts a few weeks ago I messaged him and…”

His sentence was cut short by the sound of a timid little “Hi” being whispered into his ears.

Harry closed his eyes for a second, pausing to take in the online presence of the real-life fairy, before he opened them and smiled. “Hey Lou. Ready to play with me?”

22) One Track Mind | Explicit | 9911 words

“You have a lot of friends, huh?”

Harry nods again. “A few.” The muscles of his bicep flex under Louis’ touch, and the alpha looks a bit drunk from the feeling, his eyes blinking slower and lips quirking at the corners. He’s leaning in, his alpha scent surrounding Louis from all sides.

“Mm,” Louis hums, squeezing his fingers tight, just to hear the sharp way Harry inhales. Then, when Harry is least expecting it, Louis returns the earlier sentiment—leaning up on his tiptoes and pressing his weight into Harry for balance, drawing his lips up close to Harry’s ear, and whispering, “Why don’t you go tell them goodnight.”

23) See You When I Get Home | Explicit | 10308 words

"What are you thinking about?" He repeats Louis' question from earlier.

"You." Louis' reply comes out in a moan. It shocks Harry, and his brain scrambles for the right thing to do, the right thing to say. He doesn't even know how to feel, or if he even heard Louis correctly.

"Me?"

24) Floating | Explicit | 10435 words

Note: This fic was written for the Bottom Louis Fic Fest! Check out the full collection here.

The one where Louis has control over water in every form but he doesn't know what to do with it. Harry is here to guide him.

25) I'm At Your Mercy Now (And I'm Ready To Begin) | Teen & Up | 10552 words

Where Louis' soulmark was leaked, Harry keeps his private. They're both famous popstars. Louis is waiting for his soulmate, Harry has a feeling it's him but Louis is completely oblivious.

26) You And I 'Till The Day We Die | Explicit | 10807 words

Note: This fic was written for the Bottom Louis Fic Fest! Check out the full collection here.

Prompt 124: A fic inspired by Groupie Love by Lana Del Rey, where Harry is a Rockstar and Louis is his cute little boyfriend who tries to hide himself in the middle of the crowd. (Preferably set in the 80s)

27) Moonlit Sky Over Gentle Waters | Explicit | 11377 words

Harry left his hometown to sail the seven seas and returns seven years later, yearning for something — or rather, someone — that he isn't sure he can have.

28) Late Night Devil Put Your Hands On Me (And Never, Never, Ever Let Go) | Explicit | 11524 words

Note: This fic was written for the Bottom Louis Fic Fest! Check out the full collection here.

Harry is a demon that feeds off of people’s nightmares. He finds his next meal in Louis’ dreams where he changes and molds them to become scary nightmares. Soon harry learns Louis is a lucid dreamer- he can act on his own in his dreams. They interact in the real world and have sex in the dream world. when the demon catches feelings for louis, he wants to live.

29) If You're Feeling Lonely | Explicit | 12807 words

The guest list is on the desk. Louis runs through it and stops a third of the way down, a familiar name catching his attention.

Harry Styles.

All he needs to do is confirm whether Harry Styles is the same Alpha whose scent left such a memorable impression on his body.

30) Want You To Play With Me | Explicit | 14335 words

"I'm quite not finished with you yet." Harry whispered right on the shell of his ears and squeezed the girth of his cock, making Louis shudder a sloppy puff of air as the tickling sensation ran through his spine, Harry was intoxicating. "Let me play with you a little more, Lou. I promise I'll give you what you want. Be my good boy, hm?" He slowly annunciated every word and licked a warm line on the nape of Louis' neck — Louis curled in his arms at that. Submitting himself a little bit more.

"Always wanna be your good boy." Louis whispered back and enveloped Harry's hand in his.

31) No Good Unless It's Real | Explicit | 17021 words

Note: This fic was written for the Bottom Louis Fic Fest! Check out the full collection here.

Louis is a very busy farmer who’s just trying to make it to his next nap and Harry’s the new hot vet that’s determined to infiltrate every area of his life.

32) Tennis Court | Explicit | 18285 words

Louis and Harry are co-workers and Louis is sure Harry hates him because he always refuses to help him with his heats.

33) Joker Is Wild | Explicit | 18444 words

Note: This fic was written for the Bottom Louis Fic Fest! Check out the full collection here.

Prompt 390: A reality show AU where Louis, Harry, Liam, Zayn and Niall are selected to stay at confined in a luxury mansion for 1 month, where they are required to have explicit, graphic sex at all times, like a porn Big Brother kind of show. Every week there are several different sexual tasks and trials that they must overcome together, which all ends in orgasms for all of them. When the boys all discover Louis is strictly a bottom, and a slutty one at that, they all can’t wait to get their hands on him. Bonus if other hot celebs are there too, like Shawn Mendes, for example. Includes lots of hard gay sex, rimming, blowjobs, gang bangs, ass worshipping (Louis ass, of course) and double penetration.

34) Baby, Let Me Love You Goodbye | Not Rated | 20249 words

Louis almost calls Harry daddy. Cue denial, feelings, and way too much dirty talk.

35) Give So Much (Not Enough) | Mature | 24610 words

Note: This fic was written for the Bottom Louis Fic Fest! Check out the full collection here.

“For my little lion,” Louis slid the smoothie bowl in front of Oscar, letting him dig in with his little hands. “And for daddy.”

He didn’t process the bowl in front of him, the push across the table causing a raspberry to roll off and fall on his lap, because Louis calling himself mummy may make him feel all sorts of mushy emotions, but Louis addressing Harry as daddy was suddenly having a very different effect on him. Since when did Louis saying daddy out loud render him speechless?

“Daddy’s still sleepy, but we’re up bright and early right Ossie?” Louis’ cooing shook him out of his daze. The man coughed, picking the raspberry off his lap and swallowing it with unintentional, and very unnecessary, eye contact with Louis. “Well, is it better than your protein smoothies and why?”

Harry chuckled, spooning another heap of the strawberry banana goodness into his mouth, “Way better sweetheart.”

A friends to lovers au with tons of mama Louis and domesticity.

36) Short And Sweet | Explicit | 29658 words

Note: This fic was written for the Bottom Louis Fic Fest! Check out the full collection here.

Louis is a shy university student in a world scarce of male omegas. He's always dreamt of having an alpha despite his sheltered upbringing, fantasizing about being loved and cared for. He's immediately smitten by the mysterious alpha with curly hair, broad shoulders, and the addictive coffee scent.

37) Under Thorn And Bramble | Explicit | 31931 words

Note: The pairing of this fic is Louis/OMC. This fic was written for the Bottom Louis Fic Fest! Check out the full collection here.

Prompt 445: A historical AU where Louis is working as a servant on a farm. The family that owns the farm is exceedingly cruel to him and he is often exhausted and in pain from his work. A mysterious stranger boards at the farm and is very intrigued by Louis, but Louis doubts his interest in genuine. Any pairing fine.

38) Pink In The Night | Explicit | 32324 words

His finger was tapping on Louis’ chat before Harry could even think about it, eyes reading over the last text he’d sent Louis. I miss you. Do you miss me?

Harry had felt so pathetic that December night, alone in the dark room of the Japanese apartment he’d been staying at, the strong smell of alcohol clinging to his clothes.

Louis hadn’t replied, but Harry wasn’t surprised; he had texted Louis a few times before while he’d been away, but there had never been a response.

It pained him to admit that this was their new normal.

39) Coeur De Pirate | Explicit | 34207 words

Note: This fic was written for the Bottom Louis Fic Fest! Check out the full collection here.

He tilts his chin up as the Captain strides across the deck, his footfalls falling loudly against the planks. The crew watches them from afar.

Stepping into his space, the Captain wraps an arm around Louis’ waist and pulls him in. He lowers his head to breathe his words against Louis’ cheeks. “I won,” he whispers, “I’ve come to claim my prize.”

40) If The Sun Don't Shine | Explicit | 36330 words

In a world where you meet your soulmates in dreams, Louis has spent the last three years going to bed hoping to finally meet his, only to end up disappointed time and time again. It all changes with a violin.

41) The Pirate And The Piper | Explicit | 38396 words

Note: This fic was written for the Bottom Louis Fic Fest! Check out the full collection here.

The one where Harry is Hook, Louis is Pan, and nothing is what it seems.

42) Begged And Borrowed Time | Mature | 40198 words

Prompt 60: Time travel AU where Louis somehow gets thrown back in time and ends up in the dark ages, during the reign of the Styles family.

43) I Ain’t Gonna Fence You In | Mature | 40645 words

Louis Tomlinson is a 18 year old city boy who is forced to spend his summer before his senior year at his aunts farm. There, he meets Harry, a 19 year old country boy his aunt hired to help around the farm.

Maybe the farm isn't the worst place to fall in love?

44) Don't Want No Other Shade Of Blue | Explicit | 43285 words

Note: This fic was written for the Bottom Louis Fic Fest! Check out the full collection here.

Prompt 339: it was foretold that Alpha Prince Harry would be mated to a beautiful male omega with eyes that could rival the stone amethyst, but Omega Prince Louis refuses to believe it.

45) No Easy Choice, But You’re Mine | Explicit | 44963 words

Note: This fic was written for the Bottom Louis Fic Fest! Check out the full collection here.

Louis is an omega hitman with one last job that goes a little sideways. Harry is the alpha bartender that looks a little too closely and cares a little too much.

46) Sedative Duty | Explicit | 46588 words

Note: This fic was written for the Bottom Louis Fic Fest! Check out the full collection here.

Pop-star of the moment Louis Tomlinson is on his third-world tour. He decides to hire renowned professional dominant Harry Styles to unwind while on the road. In an effort not to raise suspicion by the crew, fans, and press, Harry pretends to be his bodyguard. He ends up being far more than that.

47) Just Always Be Waiting for Me | Explicit | 46837words

Note: Please be sure to check tags for any trigger warnings.

Harry Styles is a librarian at a private school who is not very devoted to his job but is very devoted to Louis Tomlinson, the resident English teacher, and has been ever since they met six years ago beneath a lonely streetlight.

Louis Tomlinson is a self confessed bookworm whose passion for Peter Pan, the literary classics and Harry Styles' happiness knows no bounds. He's self sacrificing, somewhat self loathing and haunted by a trauma he can't talk about.

Mutual pining abounds in this fic where a Peter Pan quote is never just a Peter Pan quote, caretaking is a love language and a platonic nude is never actually platonic. Louis has a kiss that belongs to Harry but he also has a painful past that might end up hurting them both.

48) Since The Future | Explicit | 48947 words

Note: This fic was written for the Bottom Louis Fic Fest! Check out the full collection here.

"It's done."

The words were barely above a whisper when they left Harry's mouth, but they hit Louis with the force of a freight train. It was done. Holy fuck. They had created a time machine. And tomorrow, they were travelling to the future.

49) Dirty Laundry Looks Good On You | Explicit | 50581 words

Note: This fic was written for the Bottom Louis Fic Fest! Check out the full collection here.

When Louis Tomlinson finds his clothes lying in a sad soapy mess on top of the washing machine in which they are supposed to be, he acts upon his anger and retaliates. What he doesn’t expect is having to deal with a six-feet tall, curly-haired and dimpled man in return, who seems to arouse confusing feelings within him and to make his life take an unexpected turn for the better (or worse?).

50) Hamartia | Explicit | 66970 words

Note: This fic was written for the Bottom Louis Fic Fest! Check out the full collection here.

Six years is a long time for Louis to mend his heart back and erase every lingering, stubborn memory of his ex-lover, Harry Styles. But when news of the war being over spreads across the world like wildfire, and he stumbles upon the alpha he vowed himself to never see ever again, he realises that not even a lifetime will be enough for him to pick up the scattered, broken parts of his soul. He's far from expecting the alpha he loved to be struggling in the same way.

All the ointments in the world might never soothe the pain out, but it doesn't take long for them both to come to the conclusion that, maybe, the only medicine to their heartbreaks are what caused them in the first place.

51) Feeling Borrowed, Always Blue | Explicit | 68214 words

Note: This fic was written for the Bottom Louis Fic Fest! Check out the full collection here.

Louis has been dreaming of his wedding since he was young - he just never expected it to happen like this. words

52) Mind Over Matter (You Under Me) | Explicit | 73825 words

Note: This fic was written for the Bottom Louis Fic Fest! Check out the full collection here.

It’s dark outside when Harry finishes practice for the day.

53) Rogue | Not Rated | 94992 words

Louis is a rogue Omega who's suffered through rejection and abuse for the biggest part of his life. He stumbles onto the Styles pack, quite possibly the kindness one he's ever met.

54) Chandeliers And Fake Smiles | Mature | 145010 words

On the brink of winning their first Grammy; up-and-coming rock band One Direction find themselves in the midst of the biggest scandal of their career - right before tickets for their world tour go on sale. in order to save their reputation, Louis Tomlinson must find it in his heart to forgive pop singer and heartthrob Harry Styles after his first impression rubbed him entirely the wrong way. after all, they cannot sell a relationship if it looks like they hate each other.

Check out our other fic rec lists by category here and by title here.

You can find other monthly roundup fic rec lists here.

[yellowmagicalgirl]

Krel, Douxie, Value Me?

Leave a “Value Me” in my ask, and I’ll write a drabble about one character telling another how they feel about them.

From send me characters and a prompt (no longer accepting)

And until I reblog this ask meme again, this is the last of these prompts I will be writing. They're finally out of my inbox! Yay!

This technically takes place during RotT (after Douxie and Nari get sent back to their own bodies) but I still refuse to actually watch the movie so the timeline and whatnot are probably not canon compliant with the movie.

CW: references to canon-typical death and torture.

AO3

FFN

~

Krel didn't have a problem with organizing his lab. Oh, sure, other people had a problem with the way he organized his lab. But was that really Krel's fault? He was the one who was going to be working in the lab, so it was best if he calibrated it to the maximum efficiency of himself. After all, he could find everything easily, so why would anyone else matter?

Douxie mattered, though. And Douxie looked incredibly frustrated by Krel's organizational skills. If it were anyone else, Krel would be inclined to brush it off as them not being able to understand the genius of Krel's mind and organization. But.

But Douxie mattered so much more than Krel's ego. That, and the two of them were trying to build a new amulet for Jim. They were working together, and Douxie deserved to be able to find what he was looking for.

Not failed projects, like what Douxie was currently holding.

"Krel? What's this flashlight-thing doing here?" Douxie flicked the switch and it started beeping, fast and loud and high-pitched. So it worked, even if only in the shortest of distances. "Please tell me it's not a Geiger counter."

"No, it's not a... why is everyone so worried about radioactivity?"

Douxie crossed his arms. "I don't know about you, but radiation sickness is a nasty way to die."

Krel wondered if it was a worse way to die than falling from the sky, a worse way than being tortured and having your soul ripped from another's body and forced back to your own.

"This was originally a core scanner," Krel said, taking the device from Douxie's hands and turning it off. "I modified it, though, but it seems to only work in a short range, so it wouldn't work for what I modified to for. To look for magic, and souls." Krel lifted his eyes off of the device to meet Douxie's. "To look for you."

"I... that makes sense." Douxie looks away from Krel. "You would've been able to find Nari's body, and maybe even the seals, and then this whole mess could've been prevented."

Douxie wasn't listening to him. Gently, Krel took Douxie's hands in his lower pair, and he put his upper pair on Douxie's shoulders. "No. I mean, that would've been helpful, but I wasn't looking for Nari's body, or the seals. I was looking for you. Just you, to bring you back to me. To us."

Apparently, that was the wrong thing to say, because Douxie burst into tears at that. He took a step forward, though, burying his face in the crook of Krel's neck. Krel dropped Douxie's hands in favor of wrapping three arms around Douxie's torso and using the fourth to card his fingers through Douxie's hair in a hopefully-comforting manner.

"I didn't think anyone was coming for me," Douxie confessed between sobs. "I tried to convince myself this was good, that you were focusing on keeping Nari safe and planning for when I failed to keep my hold on her body, but..." Someone inhaled sharply, and Krel couldn't tell who. "I was so scared, and I almost wanted someone to come for me, even if it seems selfish. But, but you were trying?"

"Oh, Douxie." Krel squeezed Douxie just a little tighter. "Of course I was. I'm not a warrior, and I can't promise I'll always be able to keep you safe in the first place. I can't promise I'll always be able to save you. But I promise you that I will do everything I can to try and save you anyways."

It was a promise Krel had accidentally made to himself when Douxie had fallen from the sky, back during that impossibly long and agonizing moment where they had crowded around Douxie's body. Krel hadn't even known Douxie yet beyond that he was a wizard who did reckless things like cut in line and take on demigods on his own, and yet Krel found himself silently promising that if Douxie survived this, Krel would do everything to ever keep him from being so hurt ever again.

Later, Krel would find out that this was called the bargaining phase of grief. The only difference was that it had worked and Krel's feelings for Douxie had been able to grow past grief.

"You would do that?" Douxie looked up at Krel. His tears had ceased falling, but there were still tears in his beautiful golden eyes. Tears, and disbelief. In that moment Krel hated everyone who had ever made Douxie feel like he wasn't worthy of being saved.

"Of course I would, Douxie. I..." Krel's eyes darted away. If Douxie didn't feel the same way, then making the amulet together might be awkward. But Douxie really needed to hear how much he was valued, and if that meant Krel had to be embarrassed... Oh, kleb it.

"I love you," Krel said, and Douxie's eyes widened. And then, he smiled before pressing his forehead to Krel's. A gentle, fluttering feeling overtook Krel's core. It was a feeling Krel wanted to last forever.

After a few wonderful moments, Douxie pulled away, still smiling. "I know a really good deli place. Assuming it doesn't get destroyed by the Order, do you want to grab dinner there next Friday?"

"Are you-"

"Yes, I'm asking you on a date."

Krel beamed. "Then yes. Of course I'd like to go on a date with you."

"Then let's make sure there's still a world by Friday," Douxie said, turning back to the workspace of the lab. His smile faded by a fraction. "You really need to find an organization system."

"I do organize things!"

Though, maybe, after they defeated the Arcane Order, Krel would re-organize his lab to be slightly more accessible to his boyfriend.

~

A/N: I feel like this ends one of 2.5 ways: 1) Due to this scene, Douxie and Krel are able to change things just enough that Jim decides not to go back in time. AKA, Gay Love Saves The Timeline™. Whether or not it saves the deli where the boys were gonna go for their date is a different story, though. 2) This changes nothing, or at least it doesn't change enough, and Jim resets the timeline, erasing this moment and all their character development...      2.5) ...or at least, it does until Jim is able to restore Douxie and Krel's memories. (Yes, I'm saying that this fic might be an unoffical prequel to Reunions and Revelations.)

[stillebesat]

Meeting Virgil (5x1) -Third Time

Sanders Shorts: Remy Sanders Sides: Virgil Blurb: A Special Delivery Prequel. -Five times Remy tried to give Virgil a child and the one time he succeeded. Inspiration: @book-of-charlie​ asked: What did Virgil mean by “the last 5 times?” Fic Type: STORK!AU, Winged!Remy Chapter Warnings: Implied Neglectful Parents, Implied Miscarriage Taglist in Reblog. To Catch Up: First Time Second Time

Little Lacey was going to change the world. Remy knew it from the moment the baby girl’s eyes had lit up upon seeing him and his wings. From the second she had opened her mouth and let out the most contagious laugh he’d ever heard.

Even now, as he wound his way through the golf course parking lot crowded with stalls and people waiting for the fireworks to start on the hill above them, Lacey drew smiles from everyone standing nearby with that contagious bubbling laughter as she bounced in his arms.

He’d been tempted to put her to sleep when the twin lines of green and purple he’d been following led straight into this noisy place with music blaring, kids screaming, and the smell of popcorn and cotton candy thick in the air. First impressions with new parents hardly went well if the baby was screaming their head off after all, yet Lacey apparently loved the chaos surrounding them. She’d perked right up, her giggles ringing in his ear before he’d even landed.

There was no doubt. Despite her previous parents’ best attempts to treat her like a forgotten dusty doll in a china cabinet, Lacey thrived in having everyone’s attention focused on her. For being in the limelight. Yes. Remy knew she would change the world once she was older if the way everyone cooed -from the lady waiting in line with her son to get their face painted to the burly motorcycle dude that looked like he could tear your head off with his pinky- at her was any indication.

It was attention that Remy wasn’t exactly used to dealing with himself anymore. Usually his S.T.O.R.K. duties took him to places that were...quieter...more…secluded environments. One on Two situations where he could meet the new parents away from watching eyes, give them their new bundle of joy and then take off soon after their bond was established.

“Oh, isn’t she precious!” A grandmother cooed at Lacey, her hands twitching with the obvious old person urge to pinch the baby’s cheeks as she gave Remy a warm smile. “You’re one lucky fella having such a beautiful daughter!”

His stomach did a little uncomfortable flip flop at that. It wasn’t the first time he’d been mistaken as a parent, but it always threw him off when people assumed he was capable of such a feat when growing up it had felt like everyone expected him to die before he reached twenty.

According to Larry and Dot, however, despite the years he’d spent ferrying babies around -and getting them to their parents without issue...well, major issues-- he was still quite ‘rough around the edges.’

Ha.

He’d like to see them say that when faced with the burly motorcycle dude two stalls over. He couldn’t be that rough acting anymore.

Probably.

Maybe.

Eh.

Remy shook his head, wings twitching against his back as he grinned at the woman, glad his metallic green eyes were hidden behind his sunglasses. “She’s adorable alright, but I’m just watching her for a friend while they grab a bite to eat.” He tilted his head to the twin lines that led towards the other side of the food stalls beyond the lady as Lacey giggled in his ear, nuzzling her head into his shoulder.

The words flowed easily enough off his tongue, despite the bitter taste they left. Lying wasn’t really a thing with S.T.O.R.K.s hence his...technical truth. He was watching Lacey, though friend might be a bit strong of a word when he’d never met the parents before. But he was planning to grab some of those delectable chicken strips he could smell afterwards. So yah...basically the truth.

He was good at that.

Larry and Dot would visibly roll their eyes but quietly smile their approval at his ability to find and exploit loopholes.

The grandmother’s eyes grew softer as Lacey wiggled, reaching fingers grabbing onto the feathers her little hands could reach. “How sweet.” She murmured, placing a hand over her heart.

Did she mean Lacey or the fact Remy was ‘watching’ her? He sighed internally, keeping the smile in place with effort. He’d never been the greatest at interacting with old people who would ‘dear me’ and ‘oh my’ him to death if he accidentally slipped and swore in front of them.

“Mhmmm, if you’ll excuse me.” He gave her a nod, wings pressing harder against his back as he edged around her, waving one hand over his head like he was acknowledging someone in the distance and quickly vanished into the crowd, following the green and purple ribbons that would lead him to Lacey’s future family.

Still both glowing with the exact same shade of brightness. Still unknown just which one would end up with little Lacey’s shining personality in their lives.

Well. He paused as the two colored ribbons finally diverged. The Purple leading to the right to where the sun had just set. Green leading to the left to where hundreds of people were sitting, waiting for the show in the sky.

Both options meant still more people. But with the brightness being so close, he’d have to scope out both possibilities first before making a decision.

He exhaled, trying to remain relaxed as the crowd brushed by him, his wings trembling against his back. It wasn’t like anyone could see his wings so he had nothing to fear about being mobbed for his feathers. But still. The constant press of people unknowingly touching them had him on edge.

“Purple first.” He mumbled, adjusting his grip on Lacey as she sat back up, clapping her hands together with a squeal as he moved them closer to a brightly colored bouncy house. It wasn’t like the Edgelord would be here among the Good Old Rocky Mountains when he lived on the opposite side of the country, but it would be best to confirm that first.

With how quickly ‘Virge’ had vanished that night in the woods, it wouldn’t surprise him if the poor guy was still lost in the backwaters of Virginia.

No. Probably not. He seemed resourceful enough...unless he’d gotten himself captured by a Mothman colony--did they have colonies or were they more of a solitary creat--

Remy unexpectedly broke through the crowd, coming out where a line of porta-potties stood like quiet stinky sentinels in the fading light.

And there, right where the purple line ended, stood Mr. Not-a-Good-Dad himself in all his gothic glory. Wearing a black tank top that showed off his arms, artistically torn jeans, and purple dyed hair falling into his storm colored eyes.

Remy’s heart skipped a beat as he stumbled to a stop, rapidly blinking to clear his vision of this impossible mirage. “No. Fu--Freaking. Way.” He breathed, staring at Virge just as the guy reached down and picked up a little girl who couldn’t have been more than four or five years old, easily balancing her on his hip like he’d done this exact action multiple times before, speaking softly to her as he brushed the tears from her wet cheeks with his thumb.

Remy swallowed, bouncing Lacey as she wiggled in his grip. Lost maybe? Had to be. He couldn’t see the bonding lines between the two of them for all that Virge looked like a Father patiently calming his distressed child.

Of course, that didn’t rule out the possibility that she was his cousin, or even a niece or some kid of a friend. He would need to get closer to the girl to know for sure if there was any connection between the two.

Remy shrugged, drawing in a steadying breath. Well. Better make his move now rather than later. “Well, Laceyloo” He said, giving the girl a wink as he moved forward. “Ready to try your luck with our resident Emo?”

Didn’t the saying go that the ‘third time's the charm’ or something? With how adorably cute she was...and with how comfortable Virge seemed with this other little girl, perhaps Lacey’s laughter would be the key to convincing Dark and Brooding to accept his obviously destined role as a Father.

One could hope.

“Hey Stranger.” He called, pushing his sunglasses up into his hair as the Edgelord jumped like he’d just been electrocuted, causing the little girl to cry out and cling to him as stormy grey eyes met Remy’s metallic green ones.

Virge glowered at him even as his hands moved to soothe the girl, low words leaving his lips as she buried her head against his chest, his stormy eyes only softening as Lacey sat upright in Remy’s arms and gave him a tiny wave of her hand and a delighted giggle.

“Hey.” He said, still focused on Lacey, a myriad of conflicting expressions crossing his face.

Hook.

Remy moved a deliberately casual step closer, wings fluttering with anticipation. “Fancy meeting you here.” He made a show of looking around. “Does Mothman usually attend this sort of thing?”

Virge rolled his eyes, glancing at the girl in his arms before focusing back on Remy. “Slenderman actually.”

A what? Remy paused, glancing at the sniffling girl with a raised eyebrow. “Really?” She didn’t look like a...whatever a Slenderman was.

Another thing he’d have to go look up if these encounters with V-man were gonna continue and he kept insisting on referencing random fantasy cryptid creatures that Remy had barely heard of.

That way he would be more prepared next time.

If there was a next time.

If Lacey failed to work her magic.

Which she wouldn’t.

Because she was Lacey the Amazing and this was their lucky third encounter. So of course he wouldn’t be seeing his stubborn Emo Nightmare again.

Unfortunately.

Virge snorted. “No. She wouldn’t be considered one if I was. Lily here has lost her parents. I’m helping her find them. Right Lily?”

The child glanced up, face tear-streaked, bright brown eyes shimmering with more tears waiting to fall. “They’re gone.” She whimpered.

“And we’ll find them.” Virge assured, voice going soft. “Remember? You were telling me what your Mommy was wearing. A pretty pearl necklace right? Her favorite that you can’t yet wear?”

She sniffled, nodding. “Yah.”

Remy shook his head. Well that was a helpful description.

Not.

Still. Edgelord had shown more patience with the crying kid than most strangers would in this sort of situation. “A necklace.” He repeated. “Like you’ll be able to see that in the dark.”

Virge rolled his eyes. “It’s more help than you’re currently being, Eagle One. Plus I am listening for anyone calling her name.”

“Mhmm in this crowd? The parents would need to scream quite loud.” He took another step closer, smiling as Lily and Lacey made eye contact, the baby in his arms wiggling as Lily straightened with a “Hi you!” as she waved at Lacey. “No, It sounds like you need help from an Expert.” He said, spreading out his wings, flapping them once.

A bad decision really with how many people were around that he could have hit, though the surprised sound Virge made as he lifted a hand, taking an automatic step closer as his grey eyes darted to the people continuing by made it well worth it.

He froze as Lacey laughed, making grabby hands at his wings and Lily gasped a soft “Angel?” leaving her lips, her brown eyes growing bright with awe.

A S.T.O.R.K. But he wouldn’t begrudge the child for her confusion. Remy nodded to Lily, bouncing Lacey in his arms. “I’m here to help you Lils. We’ll find your parents.”

This close he could see easily her parent line--the same Green one he’d been following earlier ironically enough, because of course it would be the same fu-freaking line he���d followed all the way here, winding its way upwind of the porta-potties to a low hill with a couple shade trees at the top. Well, if it didn’t work out with Mr. Reluctant here, at least it appeared Lily already liked her potential new baby sister if their shared giggles and fascination with his wings was anything to go by.

Virge stared beyond Remy, watching the crowd, growing more tense the longer everyone else continued walking by without reacting. “They can’t--” He whispered.

“See them? No.” Remy folded his wings, unwilling to keep them open and exposed around so many individuals now that he’d made his point. “Betcha that’s why people don’t usually see your Mothman either.” Probably. It had to be a magic related thing. Or belief thing. A blending ability? Were S.T.O.R.K.s like Mothmen? Bigfoot? Vampi--oh, yah no….his wings pressed against his back. If it turned out Vampires and Werewolves and Mothmen were actually real only then would he have a mental breakdown over maybe being in the same category as mythical creatures. Right now. He had to focus. Find Lily’s parents. Give Lacey to the Edgelord and walla. Mission accomplished.

Virge slowly shook his head, shifting Lily against his side before he rubbed the back of his neck. “No, there's been enough credible sightings of Mothmen by people to discount that theory.” He said, shrugging one shoulder. “It may explain why, when people talk about their encounters with Angels, that they rarely mention them with wings though.”

Remy rolled his eyes. “Not an Angel, V-man. I already told you. I’m a--”

“Stork. Yes. But are you sure that’s not a type of Angel?” He asked, eyes gleaming in the faint light given by the lamp posts. “You bring babies to parents who want children right? You’re willing to help me find this girl’s parents. Therefore a Stork could be a subset of Guardian Angels.”

Huh.

“...You been thinking on this alot?” Remy asked faintly.

Which One. It shouldn’t thrill him that Gothica incarnate was thinking about him. And Two. Questioning his so-called ‘Angelhood’ was definitely not going to keep him up all night regardless of how this encounter ended. An Angel? HIM?! Ha. Larry and Dot would have a conniption that their troubled ward was considered some sort of goodie two shoes Guardian Angel.

Maybe.

Else Larry would tear up, crush him in a hug, and start blubbering Dadisms of ‘being so proud’ and Dot would pat him firmly on the back and say “about time.” It was hard to tell which they’d go most days.

Remy shook his head, raising a finger and jabbing it in Edgelord’s direction. “You.” He said. “Are distracting me from helping Lily” and Lacey “find her parents. Shame. On. You.” He spread a wing towards the girl in Virge’s arms. She immediately perked up, a shy smile on her lips as she reached out to touch his feathers.

Laughter danced in Virge’s eyes as tilted his head, purple tipped bangs falling in front of them, shadowing their grey color further as he maintained eye contact, not at all distracted by the wing inches from his arm. “Oh? Then tell me, O Mighty Stork, how can you find her parents?”

“Same way I keep finding you.” Remy said with a smirk, heart fluttering in anticipation as Popsicle blanched. So close. “Not that you can see it.” He pointed to the ground where the purple ribbon still shown between Virge and Lacey and then over to the green one that also streaked from her to run parallel to Lily’s line that would lead them to her parents. “But all children have a connection between them and their parents or guardians that we,” he gestured to himself, “can see.”

Virge licked his lips, glancing to Lacey, then to the ground, his arm tightening protectively around Lily. “And Lily’s parents are?”

“Right up that hill.” He said without hesitation, pointing to where the green line led. “I can’t see who it ends at, but they are over there. I can easily reunite Lily with them, if you don’t mind holding little Lacey here for me in the meantime.” He said, his wings rising and mantling around them to block Virge’s view of anyone else as he held out the baby for him to take.

Lacey automatically reached out to her potential new Dad, making grabby hands along with a soft cooing sound demanding to be held.

Line.

Virge reached out, arm already curving to take the baby from him, only to hesitate at the last second, grey eyes flickering with shadows as he met Remy’s green ones. “That first time. When you broke into my place. You said…” He licked his lips, hand trembling as he pulled it back to hold onto Lily. “I would only have to ‘hold her and see.’ What did you mean by that?”

….Smart Fish.

Remy exhaled, shaking his head. Sinker totally sunk. Suspicious Nancy here just had to remember some off hand comment he’d made ages ago and question it.

It was times like this that he wished he could Lie to potential parents. It would make his job so much easier. But at the same time, he knew all too well that starting out a budding connection with lies would mean a crumbling family foundation later on. Best to stick to the truth to give the child the best connection with their new parents from the start.

Remy pulled Lacey back into a more steady position against his chest, soothing her disgruntled sounds as she still tried to reach out to the Emo--or maybe it was Lily she was reaching for? The other little girl was bouncing in Virge’s arms hard enough to be a workout as she stretched towards Remy.

Probably a good idea to not have those two touch just yet. He wanted to try and make the bond with Virge work first before allowing Lacey to complete the bond with Lily’s family. He shifted to keep the two out of reach from each other before speaking to Virge. “A parental bond is only established with a child in the custody of a S.T.O.R.K. when said child is touched or held by the new parent. It’s a love at first contact sort of thing.” He said, not at all surprised when the reluctant Emo took two quick steps back away from him.

Stubborn. Why was he so stubborn about this?! Shouldn’t him showing up Three Fuc--Freaking times be clear enough indication that PopStar here was meant to be a Father?!

“So~. If I were to hold Lacey for you while you helped Lily--’” Virge asked, narrowing his eyes.

“I would have killed two birds with one stone.” He said simply. “Lily would return to her parents and Lacey here would have bonded with you and you’d be her new Dad.”

Virge growled at that, eyes flashing as his shoulders hunched high enough to nearly touch his ears. “I told you before that I’m not a good Dad.” He hissed. “And yet you just tried to trick me into--”

Well most people weren’t this stupidly resistant to becoming a parent.

Remy raised an eyebrow. “Ah Huh. For some reason, LolliPop.” He gestured to Lily still comfortably resting in his arms. “I don’t believe you.”

Virgil bared his teeth, arms tightening protectively around the girl. “This is different. She’s lost! I’m not going to leave her to wander around here all alone!”

“And Lacey is different how?” Remy retorted. “She is lost, looking for a new Dad, and walla you’re here to save the bloody day!”

Virgil shook his head, taking two more steps back, nearly hitting the nearest porta-pottie. “NO.”

And just like that the Purple line fizzled, growing hazy to Remy’s sight as the Green line took on an even brighter glow.

Remy groaned, pinching the bridge of his nose. Jiminy Crickets! And he’d had such high hopes that Lacey would be the breakthrough to Virge’s reluctance in joining the Fatherhood Club. “It’s not as bad as you’re making it out to be, you fuc--freaking scaredy cat!” Not that he had any personal experience in it, but he’d seen it. Seen how happy the men were to become fathers once the bond was established. “I don’t make mistakes in this. You’d be an excellent Dad no matter your doubts. I wouldn’t be here talking to you otherwise!”

“You don’t know that!!” Virgil retorted, a tint of panic to his voice. “You can’t! How can I believe some guy showing up with a random baby in his arms--you could have kidnapped her for all I--”

“You’ve seen my wings.” Remy interrupted, spreading them out and flapping them for emphasis. “Obviously I’m not exactly some guy. I don’t kidnap babies. I rescue them from bad situations and take them to better ones. That’s what a S.T.O.R.K. does!”

“I can’t--”

“You’ll have to at some point.” Remy snapped. “I’m going to keep coming to you until you do. You do realize that right? You’re marked for Fatherhood and if it’s not me that can get that through your thick skull it will be a different S.T.O.R.K. who does.”

Virge violently shook his head. “No. I’m not--”

“A good Dad. I know. I’ve heard.” Remy rolled his eyes, snapping his wings shut as he turned away to follow the green line, adjusting as Lacey twisted in his arms trying to look behind them. “I still don’t believe you.” But it was obvious by how the purple line had faded to nearly nothing that Lacey wouldn’t end up as the Edgelord’s kid.

A pity. The dude could use some serious laughter in his life. Bright and bubbly like little Lacey’s. Too bad he was apparently immune to her charm.

“...Where are you going?”

Remy fought back the urge to snarl. “To take Lacey here to her next best option, which funnily enough is Lily’s parents so are you coming with me to reunite them or not?” At least he already knew that Lily would get along with Lacey. One hurdle gone in that regard.

Virge made a noise of surprise. “They lost their child and you’re taking another to them---”

“Mistakes happen.” Remy said shortly, glancing over his shoulder. “No one can be the perfect parent 24/7. It’s impossible. You get distracted at the wrong moment and walla your child has slipped away. Or you think someone else is watching them while they think you’re watching them and no one questions why they haven’t seen the kid recently. it---her parent line is still bright, Virge.” He looked away as Mr. Reluctant caught up and fell in step with him. “They aren’t horrible bad people just because they lost her tonight. They love her. No doubt about it.”

And if Cynical Gothica was so concerned about them and their parenting skills then he should have said YES to being the Dad to Lacey before his purple line had fizzled out!

Virge ducked his head, shoulders hunching as he brushed Lily’s hair out of her eyes. “...Okay.” He mumbled a dozen steps later. “But what if they--they loved--love her, but…but did something---what if something happened to hurt her? Badly? And they couldn’t--what if it’s not fix--fixable? What then? Would you really--”

Remy stopped just short of cresting the hill, wings prickling, goosebumps on his arms sending a chill through him as he turned back to Virge. This. He could sense. Was important.

“Mistakes happen, V.” He repeated in a softer tone. “Whatever mistake you think you’ve made that you think disqualifies you from ever becoming a Father…” He stretched out a wing, brushing the Emo’s cheek, causing him to look up, eyes so soft and vulnerable that it made Remy’s chest ache. “It’s not an unforgivable one. Again. I wouldn’t be here if it were.”

People changed. People could become better than they were. Whatever had happened in the Edgelord’s past wasn’t a deal breaker to the S.T.O.R.K.s. The three times he’d shown up in his presence had to be some sort of proof. He’d never heard of someone refusing parenthood before, but the fact that Remy kept returning, the fact that Virge kept coming up as an option in the first place, had to mean something.

V bit his lip, eyes troubled as he looked to Lacey then back to Remy, the purple ribbon connecting the two flickering like a sputtering candle. “I’m not--” He whispered.

Remy let out a slow breath, well aware that his wing was still touching his cheek, but unwilling to pull away just yet. “It’s something to think on, Virge O’Doom.” He said, voice still soft. “Once is a Chance, Twice a Coincidence, Thrice? It’s a Pattern. It’s just a matter of deciding if you’re ready when I come back a Fourth time.”

As much as he wanted to convince him and make it to work between Lacey and the Emo...the line had already fuzzed once. He didn’t want Virge to have any doubts in this.

“LILY?!” A shrill woman’s voice suddenly rang through the air, breaking the tension between them like a snapped wire. “LILY WHERE ARE YOU?!”

“LILYLOO?” A man called out, his voice breaking on the last syllable. “Lily?! Has anyone seen my daughter?!”

Remy smirked, pulling his wing back and raising an eyebrow to Virge as Lily jerked upright at her name, nearly pulling free from his grip in the process. “See? Not bad parents.”

Virge drew in a visibly shaky breath, his arms tightening around the little girl. “Right.”

“MOMMY!” Lily cried, wiggling to get free. “DADDY!”

“We got her!” Remy called, using his wing to push Mr. Reluctant forward up the hill, pitching his voice so it would carry to the frantic parents. “Over here!” He raised his free hand, waving to draw their attention as he moved his other wing to cover Lacey, hiding her from their view for now.

“Oh, Lily!” Her mother rushed forward wild curly hair streaming behind her like a banner, pulling her free from Virge’s grip with little effort to smother her with kisses. “Don’t scare me like that.”

Lily wrapped her arms around her Mother, burying her head against her chest. “Sorry Momma,” She whimpered.

“Where was she?” Her father asked, hovering anxiously behind his wife. His fingers running through his daughter’s hair.

“By the bathrooms.” Virge said, shuffling awkwardly in place. “She was crying, so we---” He gestured to Remy and himself. “Were helping her find you.”

We? Nope nope. “Pretty sure that was all you.” Remy muttered under his breath, shifting as Lacey wiggled in his grip, trying to peer out from around his wing. He would have never been aware of the girl’s situation if Castlevania hadn’t taken the initiative. His job usually involved helping unloved kids. Not loved ones. Even if they were lost.

“Lily,” Her mother scolded in a soft tone, lifting up her chin. “You know you need one of us to go with you.”

The girl sniffed, eyes welling with tears. “But I’m a big girl! I can go by myself! I’m no baby.”

Grief flashed across the Mom’s face, one hand dropping to her stomach before quickly rising back to cradle the back of Lily’s head.

Ah. Remy straightened, light green dust swirling at his fingertips as recognition flashed through him. He’d seen that particular look hundreds of times before from mothers who’d lost a babe in the womb. He’d bet his sunglasses that the baby would have been the same age as little Lacey here had they survived to full term, hence why the line was so bright. Lacey could easily slip into the family like she’d always been a part of them.

“That may be.” Her husband said, taking the opportunity to pull Lily into his arms, squeezing her tight as he gave his wife a concerned look, his own eyes showing a hint of grief as well. “But you know how your mother worries about you.”

“So much, baby girl. So much. If I lost you too-” Her voice hitched as she abruptly cut off, bowing her head, wrapping her arms around her middle.

“But you didn’t.” Remy said soothingly as he moved closer to the family, fingers of his free hand twisting to scatter green dust around them so that any nosy viewers would stop paying attention now that the little family reunion was complete. “Everyone is safe and sound. No harm done.” He pulled back his wing back to reveal baby Lacey, purposely brushing his feathers along her neck, causing her to break into soft laughter, twisting in his arms from the tickling sensation.

The Mother looked up at the sound, mouth dropping open. “Oh.” She breathed, clasping her hands over her heart, eyes shimmering as she stared at Lacey. “She’s--”

“Cute right?” Remy asked, holding her out in an unspoken invitation to hold her.

Unlike Virge, the Scrooge of Fatherhood, hovering beside him, she didn’t hesitate. She reached out to gently take Lacey into her arms, a hidden weight vanishing from her shoulders as Lacey giggled, nuzzling her face against the Mother’s neck, tiny fingers gripping onto her shirt.

“She’s absolutely precious.” She murmured, pressing a kiss into her thick hair. “What’s her name?”

“Lacey.” Remy said simply, the tip of his wing stretching out to push the Father and Lily closer to them.

“Lacey.” The Father repeated, moving to her side, a smile tugging at his lips as he watched his wife slowly rock the baby back and forth. “An L name.” He reached out, running a hand down Lacey’s back, causing the green line in Remy’s sight to flash twice indicating the parental bond had been accepted. “Just like Lily’s.”

Perfect. Remy exhaled, snapping out his wing to block Virge just as he tried to interrupt the moment.

Idiot.

Remy grabbed him by the arm, dragging him away as his wings fluttered, sending more light green sparks swirling away to settle around the newly expanded family, ensuring that Lacey would be able to bond with them in peace without further interruption.

Virge struggled, twisting in Remy’s grip, unable to break free as the first set of fireworks burst in the sky overhead. “That’s it?! You can’t seriously just--”

Remy rolled his eyes. “Can. Did. Bought the T-Shirt.” Or food. Could he still get his chicken strips if the fireworks had already started? Probably not. That was disappointing.

“Seriously?! You can’t just drop off a baby and leave!”

Funny. Remy pulled them to a stop at the bottom of the hill, mantling his wings so that Virge stood in his shadow. “I’m a S.T.O.R.K., Grimm Reaper. You do remember what that means right? Leaving babies on doorsteps is kinda the whole jig.”

Virge bristled, not at all intimidated. “But you just left her!”

Must be all those Mothman encounters. Remy crossed his arms. “In good hands, Virgeroo. Not all parents need me to stick around once I give them a child.” Thankfully. He hated dealing with the ones who had a million and six impossible questions they wanted answered. But he wasn’t actually going to leave little Lacey there just like that. What sort of S.T.O.R.K. would he be to literally just dump a child in a lady’s arms and leave?

He’d double back around to check in once he was sure Virge wouldn’t go try to find them and ruin everything.

“But!”

“No.”

EmoDramatic threw up his hands. “How will they explain this though? Going to a fireworks show with one child and coming home with two!”

Remy spread his arms, wiggling his fingers. “Maaagiic~.” He smirked, snapping his wings shut. “They can explain it however they want.” The bond would ensure that whatever reason they gave for suddenly having another child, it would be believed by those who heard it. “It’s not your concern.” He shoved his hands in his pockets, brushing past him.

Not until Mr. Not-a-Good-Dad accepted his fate at least. And who knew when that would happen. Would his curiosity help spur him into taking that final step?

Virge whirled with him, fingers brushing his wing before landing on his arm, sending a shiver down Remy’s spine. “I don’t understand.”

“And you won’t, LolliPop.” Remy shrugged free from his grip, slipping his sunglasses back over his eyes. “Not until you say yes to Dadhood. That’s another thing you can think on until I see you next.” He gave his Edgelord a two fingered salute as he jumped into the air, shimmering dust whirling around him helping him to vanish from view as a series of green and purple fireworks exploded overhead.

To Be Continued.

[shepard-ram]

Ender-anon here with the final part. When I started this I didn't exspect it to be so long this was only suppost to be a quick little prequel to my first smpearth ask but my love of world building and lore made it a lot longer,so I give thanks to Shep for letting me sent in these rambley fic's hahaha.

The calm before the storm

You stared in shock at the letter currently sitting innocently on your desk, although that shock was quickly turning into a combination of stress and panic because of a simple letter telling you that Emperor Philza would be visting within a few day, Emperor Philza the man who never left the capital unless it was to fight on the frontlines during war was leaving the capital of the Arctic Empire and coming to you country in the span of a few days.None of the princes even mentioned that their father was even thinking of heading to the front let alone going on what was pretty much a holiday disguised as a diplomatic trip, then again none of them were in the empires capital Wilbur and Tommy were in their own domains while Technoblade was leading the empires army assisting with the current war the empire was embroiled in their own way. The days leading up to the visit you were working yourself harder than you ever in order to get everything ready learing everything you could about the man from pouring over old letters from his sons to running around having talks with old diplomats that had met with him,only sleeping when you could no longer ignore the looks of concern that were being shot your way as the dark circles under your eyes grew as the visit drew near. Finaly though you were done everything was perfect, it was touch and go for a while when you realised that the palace kitchens wouldn't be able to make enough food but once you requistioned the military academys kitchen you were able to make up the difference. So now you stood in full regalia ready welcoming the leader of the most powerful nation on the world who was currently exspanding to your tiny probably one of the weakest nations so yeah nothing to be worried about right? Thankfully everything went well and your worries looked to be for nothing but you couldn't keep the smile off your face when he complimented your efforts, talks over the welcoming feast went great especialy once the subject shifted from politics to the princes you freely laughing as Emperor Philza who he kept trying to get you call him phil(he really was like Wilbur) shaired stories about their childhoods,such as the time Wilbur got into a crate of blue dye and got completely stained blue and his toy sheep was still blue.The next day you gave the Emperor a tour of the capital while he happily bought so many things spending so much money that you bigest concern was now if you economy could survive his vist.The rest of the trip went well he even let you spar against him though with how much Techno told you about him in your letters you could with some effort counter his fighting style letting you win despite the fact that he kept flying out of the range of your sword.All in all the vist went realy well you thought as you waved the Emperor off,you didn't offend him in any way, your economy survived his shopping spree and he even gifted you one of his feathers as a gift relations with the Arctic Empire couldn't have been greater, six months later as the Arctic Empires troops over ran the world you would be crying as you read their declaration of war.

The missing Piece of his family

There wasn't much that could surprise Philza especialy when it came to his family, but when the rift that had been growing between Techno and his younger brothers disapered overnight he had to know why, what had fixed the rift that was ripping his family apart when his years of attempts at bringing his family back together had failed every time.It wasn't untill his heir requested permistion to vist the small nation of Rhodes ( jokingly nicknamed Rhodes Island due to the mountians that surrounded the nation like an ocean surrounded a island) only a month after his last visit that the pieces finaly clicked in to place as he remembered Tommys poorly hidden obsession with you that hadn't diminished over the years, Wilbur's need to look after you and protect you from the world and now Techno had joined them with his obsessive desire for you to become his perfect little sibling you were the Tommy to his Wilbur he claimed.The fact that his sons were so attached already ment that once their future world conquest reached your nation he would gift you to his sons after all you made them happy, your reward for gaining their love would be a higher station than you held currently after all who would want to rule over a tiny isolated nation when they could become family to the strongest royal family in the world and have your every want and whim fulfilled( well except for your freedom).As he read over Technos latest report for the the front the thought hit him, he should at least get to know his future child, get to know the person his sons saw as their missing sibling.So he made arrangements to vist your nation it would be the first time he had traveled out of the capital in prime knows how long he could afford to take a break of a few days the empire could function without him for a few days.

Upon arrival to Rhodes however and saw the festivities being held in honour of his vist he coundn't help but be impressed who ever had planed this had his respect maybe he could tempt them away to work for him in the empire,his joy turned to concern(though you wouldn't be able to tell from his face) when he got a good look you, you had dark circles under you eyes and had a slither of fear in your eyes when you welcomed him.You were also younger than he thought you were while he knew you where younger than the twins he didn't expect you to be closer to Tommys age than the twins he knew that you had been ruling for a few years now, how young were you when you had the country forced upon your shoulders the only reasion Tommy had Buissness Bay was because he had councilers that could take over if it ever got to much for him its no wonder that Wilbur was concerned about you if you were constantly working your self to the bone like this. Shaking those thoughts from his head and after introductions were made he inquired about giving thanks to the organiser of the events(so the empire could acquire them) only for you to tell him that you personaly organised it all yourself oh his heart clenched abit when you beamed up at him when he complimented your efforts, rage flaired in his chest when you told him that you had done it all by yourself had nobody looked at you struggling and offered to help his future child had they all just watched you work yourself to near exhaustion for a nation that clearly didn't deserve you, no wonder his children wanted to bring you home you deserved better than this. When he heard you laughing as he told you stories about the things you future siblings had done he knew that this was what his family was missing, the next day while you showed him around the tiny capital,he bought gifts for his sons and if he caught your gaze on something bought it as well after all you would need things for your room and when you asked him for a spar he could see why Techno was so sure on you being the Tommy to his Wilbur as the same glee that he was so used to seeing in his heirs eyes during combat filled your own as the clash of blades rang out, losing despite his aerial advantage was also a plesant surprise so your draw agains Techno wasn't just a fluke.With every actitivly,every convisation, every moment spent with you only convinced him more and more that his sons were right you were the missing part of their family, you only cemented that thought as you accepted his gift of a feather from his wings, on the flight home he couldn't wait to get your room all ready for when you came home to them.Six months later after conquering any nation strong enough to be a threat of his familys ambition he finaly sent you a war declaration, it was time to bring his familys missing member home.

Ender-anon: I'm finally done,won't lie almost screamed when my laptop decided to update in the middle of writing this it took 5 hours to update.

[whatisgoingonpaul]

Lost boys backstorys

I made a post while ago on my ideas of the boys past but now I want to update it. I just want you to know I’m still a firm Prequel lover/follower however we don’t get much info on the boys Pre 1906, so that’s what this is for! However personally I would have had more Max so this is going to be both pre 1906 but also include relationship with Max a bit.

I am also including my personal ideas on Last names and age. However I am under the idea that they wouldn’t know/take their last name seriously if the did know it cause- ya know. Orphans. This is going to be lengthy and I’m going to pin it, not just because I want it seen but also to remind myself in fic writing (when I don’t follow these ideas in a fic it’s gonna be Marked as Au- as I’ll probably be messing around with a different past.)

I’ll be doing appearance but only physical as there’s some stylistic changes. For clothing? Honestly so thinking workers clothes/cowboy esc

Also! Their stories are all going to kinda intertwine so I’d there’s not enough info under one theirs a solid chance there’ll be more for them under someone else’s!

David Hardy-

Age(as of 1906): 19

Born: 1887

Appearance: Average height, his hair a dirty blond- near reddish and is around shoulder length. Bearded. (Think doc but with slightly updated clothing)

Backstory:

David Is the only of the boys to grow up with at least one of his parents, living with his mother until her death when he was around 7. They lived in a decent, though cramped little space in San Francisco, by the docks. His father worked on and off- a not so stable style ending in him getting involved in not doing saviory things - getting arrested. His mother worked as a washerwoman. David worked the streets awhile, as a young child now left alone, he learned to pickpocket and live off what he could manage. It was around this time he had found Marko- doing the same thing he was - though arguably less effectively do to his more sporadic nature. At around age 10 the two became extremely close and rather inseparable, Marko even looking up to him despite being the older of the pair. However david wasn’t one to living completely criminal like... he did NOT want to be his father, which lead him to not drinking , EVER. (Even as a vampire he still doesn’t do alcohol.) he poked towards more honest work, also forcing Marko into doing the same , which he wasn’t exactly thrilled about- but did anyway. Tried. David did a lot of work on the docks, odd jobs and stuff like that- but it never paid even half as good as nabbing a wallet or cheating at cards. He wouldn’t be his father- he’d be better- better then all the nobody’s. More level headed then Marko though  ambitious, big headed and still wildly child like- eventually Paul , Dwayne and Jasper joining the pair. Well now, David had himself a full on gang. Never robbery, not that far. The group pickpocketed , cheated at any sort of game or match, that sort of thing... they were still young after all. Smart enough not to go wild like some famous bandit (Though David will admit to his slight admiration of Billy the kid.). He’s a quick learner, and when he learns something- he learns it well- becomes a damn near expert. When he is good at something he is good at it. He is the leader out of the groups mutual respect towards him , quick thinker. Notable flaws: Huge ego, hopeless romantic.

Marko Connelly-

Age(as of 1906): 20

Born: 1886

Appearance: on the shorter side, golden - darker brown hair in this fluff of ringlets it’s long about just past his shoulder blades and typically tied back. Usually dirty somehow (Think Poli but with longer hair and updated clothing)

Backstory:

Born to a rich family , one of those who moved from east to west and actually did make it big. He was a pretty little thing, more a doll to his mother then particularly a child- only taken from Nanny to be dotted over or photos taken. However around the age of 3 or 4 things had tipped, scandal! Missing. That is what the newspapers said anyway he was found missing- was it that he was given away? Or stolen? He was never particularly a child to be quite or sit still or anything such as that... so who is to say? Marko doesn’t remember a lick of that either way as he was far far to young for it but he does remember being alone. This is how he had grown his attachment to birds, they always stuck around. He grew comfortable with being alone, having himself to depend on, getting good at grabbing what he needs- A mansion is stark contrast to dirty winding alleyways. He was always cursed with his looks- even filth covered at 6 he could make sad eyes and tend to swindle whatever he wanted... but he wasn’t completely quick. He’d get in trouble, his face memorable he could rarely pass the same trick again. At 11 David came across him, the two started working and living together (that is where they could find a place to sleep.) he sort of gained this complex. He felt he owed David , in some strange sense he became attached at the hip- a helper, a second- almost servant like the guy had saved his life and he is now the others. It didn’t help that at a young age, Marko had developed what was come to be understood as a deep crush- at times as teens this was reciprocated. As loyal and loving as he was to the other male he wasn’t nearly as cautious, as rule following... he had come to despise authority, to despise the fancy, the rich all of the crowd. He was never sure why. Even regular work got on his hate list... but he gave in and would try to do a normal amount pf work.. it never really worked as there was something, how he would sass, how he looked or smelled or spoke (neither him nor David really spoke ‘proper’ English - meaning no slang or accent). Around when Paul came things started to shift in the group, more mouths- more work and more thinking. Oh yea David and his thinking. Marko is a bit hostile right off the bat when it comes to people he doesn’t know, eventually he cracks and will be more loyal to you then to anyone you’d ever know. He opened up to Paul, a lot sooner then he would have thought the guy was funny and sweet - lil stupid too. David had this grand idea of a little gang, naturally Marko was all for it because illegal activity is fun- it was like a game to him. A liked stealing from pockets and playing distraction for David, as time grew he began to hate how young and gentle his face appeared to be. He LOATHED absolutely appalled the pity glances he would get, the hand outs the whole “oh you poor fragile little dear 🥺” he hated being babied and still does. He hated the stares he got on the opposite direction ... at first, it was funny, it was nice to be wanted in that sense rather then some baby. However... it grew creepy, it wasn’t women or a fella his age...it was more the gaze of older men. Marko detested it so much- he KNEW he’s seen what some of the guys... even younger then him ended up doing- he could see the occasional look in david’s eye. No he would never really consider....no. Paul was more his shoulder to cry on, someone to go to , to ramble to to speak with and just be with. The two were touchy, always leaning against eachother or grabbing their arms, laughing or sleeping or- eventually it became more then casual, it was serious. The two started ‘dating’ at some point- none of them were ever serious on titles but it was good to put a word to it.

Paul campbell-

Age (as of 1906) : 18

Born: 1888

Appearance: tall and lengthy, he has a mole on his left cheek, he has stubble/shadow opposed to a beard. He’s also usually dirty, dirty blond , long hair think Buffalo bill with volume and his hairline not receding

Backstory:

Grew up in a orphanage, hundreds of kids all stuffed together into a few rooms, often sharing beds and everything else. He was never a still child, he would always figit and move and shift - whenever he’s supposed to be quite or still like lessons or Mass he just couldn’t. This - got him most of the attention from the mistresses and overseers- much more quick to slap then to explain... he was docile , quick to flinch and try and stop. Never worked well. Once you get to 7-8ish you work if not adopted by a decent age. Sweeping, factory work he tried it all. He was particularly desensitized to violence at a extremely young age while working in a textile factory- he’s seen a kids arm come clean off. Terror turns to fascination eventually. At some point he’d stopped returning at night finding David and Marko at 15, he started hanging with them- it was safer in numbers that sort of thing- Paul could read a bit , David could write a bit- the three worked it out together. always so distracted- the others learned right off the bat he wasn’t built for pick pocketing no matter how hard he begged about it. Instead he’d do real jobs- sweeping , fighting, placing crooked bets that sort of thing. He always complains. A massive softie since he was young, Paul can’t quite handle being on his own- he’s used to having at least one other person around him at all times causing him to get quite hooked onto the other boys. He hovers around the same places. He is also a fan of dancing- Paul- is music obsessed the moment he heard the first noise of any sort of music he was hooked. He is one about fun- being restrained from it for so long as a child- always to sit out and watch or to think about whatever he did.. oh. Dancing, drinking, drugs, clubs, all of it is his kind of deal- he would drag the others with him when they had a bit of extra cash to deal with. Dwayne and his brother, when they joined on he was instantly accepting, unlike Marko he didn’t have the deep seeded trust issues, he was immediately touchy and happy to share a joke or a comment no matter the glares. He is the one to get Dwayne to lighten up a little bit, to smile he loves to see that smile :). He got around to dating Marko, when they finally put a label on it he was really giddy about it, making jokes and comments- he adores the little names like ‘sweetheart’ or ‘bo’ - he eventually gets around to just plain ‘sugar’ . Marko is the one who really entertains Paul’s love for dancing, the two of them trying to get the others to do something lighten up- eventually their pawing would bare fruit. Paul makes the best out of the worst situation, even if they end up sleeping on the beach more often then not- he somehow makes it seam alright. Except that one time he had gotten sand in Dwayne’s eye and all hell broke lose. He is the current youngest member of the group after Jaspers passing.

Dwayne Maher

Age (as of 1906) : 22

Born: 1884

Appearance: Tall, muscular , tanned(I will establish this now but Dwayne is Native American.) long Black hair with burnet highlights, reaches half down his back.

Backstory:

Born out more Midwest unlike the others he was not born in San Francisco, eldest son of a decent sized family of four kids. Do to conflict he and his younger brother skipped town, skipped state and fled to California.. better options you know?. He’s strong built, hard working and good with his hands though, rather playful most of the time. He looks after his younger brother closely, when there is work they work the same place, when there is not they both still do the same. Quickly took to David and the gang , having a tight knit bond with each of them. He was sort of the muscle - if there was trouble, he knew how to fight and it would likely work better then the knives the boys carried around or the gun David could barely shoot. It was Paul who got him to open up more, about himself and just to speak in general, he’s much more under his breath and jokingly commenting then he is saying something out loud- however if he dislikes something or thinks it stupid you WILL know it. Like David he carries the occasional thought of caution, however he’s not nearly as quick to worry. Maher is not his actual last name , nor does he ever mention it- he simply uses this one when it’s needed as some sort of identification or document. He’s surprisingly good at money, he ends up counting with David and is better at budgeting no matter how he may want or need something. He doesn’t speak on his past as he tries to make it seam he has little of one, he likes to make things mysterious he finds it amusing.

Jasper Maher-

Age (as of 1906) : 16

Born: 1890

Died: 1906

Appearance: shoulder length black hair, typically tied back and braided , tanned, string bean.

Backstory:

The younger brother of Dwayne who is much much more open on how he grew up, casually mentioning things he learned from his parents of his brother (he doesn’t remember his parents that much.) young hot shot sort of kid who’d much rather have action then he would some serious job, loud, energy filled and one for violence- however he’s surprisingly sweet. He often got himself and his brother into trouble. He was a quick and fast young child who grew surprisingly closest with Marko, the two having a habit for breaking every possible rule they could manage together. Their close friendship lead to Marko naming one of his birds after Jasper long after his passing.

Max-

Unknown age but he is seen as extremely old and powerful

Relationship with the boys:

After finding them he has decided to take them under his metaphorical and physical wing, acting as a sort of guardian. Food, clothing, shelter, he was everything the boys didn’t have and was surprisingly inviting in the beginning. ‘I do this for you, you on occasion do this for me’ sort of deal. He wasn’t a leader so much as he was a usual figure, the boys knew and understood him to be above them... so they followed you know? The whole new vampirism thing and the clueless kids- he had to explain and show nearly everything... especially to David, he wasn’t so much harsh to him as he was strict- more of a lead by example sort. Honestly he was father like in a strange sense- that someone is almost like a parent but very much your boss. See... with Max’s strength, there’s this almost automatic level of control- you can’t say no to him. You literally can’t not do what he asks (some supernatural level messing-). There’s something dark about him, in him that the boys still don’t understand in the 80s- but it scares them. It’s strange, it feels unlike him... he seams just like a Dorky , sweet man until...

Some random thoughts that don’t really fit anything

The boys are explicitly religious, past what you’d hear in passing or remember from growing up. Saying “oh god” and respecting religious officials are about what you’ll get

Whoopsies! This was a extremely long post lmao. Sorry for the long read but I could go on and on about them this was just a small blurb to all of it. If you ever wanna hear more do tell me. Also tell me if I should add tw for anything as I know I got a little dark at some points.