#he can be tender he can be gentle literally IN CANON. read lost stars and then talk to me. bitch. ehafvyuhcgxyfhvjgerhdfc

[wishingicouldfly]

I've been actively blogging for more than six months, even though I've had a tumblr account for ten years. I started reading One Direction (specifically Larry) fanfiction about the same time.

Originally, I read exclusively canon compliant fiction--I was hungry for industry insider, what-could-have-happened narratives. But I've slowly branched out into other genres. I find fanfic--good fanfic--super calming. When I've had too much stunting, too much noise, I grab a fanfic and immerse myself. So I thought it was time to do a post about my favorites. Keep in mind, I'm terrible at cataloging, and I have over 150 bookmarks on my A03 Account, so this is by no means an exhaustive list.

I'm not including the classics like Tired, Tired Sea and Escapade. While I do love both of those (so well written), because a lot of people know about those already.

My all time favorites are by @helloamhere

1. The Multipicity of Powers - https://archiveofourown.org/works/28580229

Maybe in another universe he isn’t different. Maybe he hadn’t been given an impossible choice. Maybe he wouldn’t have lost everything and broken everything and then fallen impossibly, irrevocably in love with the first next thing that was kind. Maybe in that universe he doesn’t feel like he’s never breathing, always pretending, teaching the kids even though they all have to learn alone, trying hard not to read the headlines, and so afraid, every day, that he won’t be a good enough teammate to the superhero he can’t live without. He knows that love isn’t supposed to feel this way, slid secret under your skin like a surgical razor, an invisible war held close over the tender vein that keeps you alive. On the other hand, Louis wonders, had he ever known how to do it any other way?

Maybe there’s a universe where he doesn’t have to keep all his secrets on the inside.

But this isn’t that universe.

//an X-Men AU.

Me: I never thought I'd love a super hero 1D cross over, but this is so well done. The backstory, the pacing, the characterization, the friendship. Read it.

2. Saving Symphony Hall and it's prequel Night Out - https://archiveofourown.org/works/12633921

“I think I have an idea,” Louis said. Slowly, and reluctantly, but with a growing sense of the inevitable. “God damnit, I think I have a really good idea.”

“Oh christ, that's the problem-solving face,” Babs said. “Last time we saw that face, he sold a company.”

“Wait, what?” Zayn asked.

“Right place, right time,” Louis said. “Also, fuck my life,”

“What?” Zayn repeated. Niall patted his hand.

“I usually just roll with whatever Louis is about to do,” he said. “It’s better for us all.”

“That’s the attitude,” said Louis, “I’ll tell you tomorrow. Tonight, I need to do some research. Zayn, give me your number. I’m gonna save our symphony.”

Me: The best sex scene I've ever read is in the prequel Night Out. Sexy, but tender. I love the characterizations in this duo--ABO but not traditional. Doesn't feel out of character.

3. Just Let Me -https://archiveofourown.org/works/11695350

The party was going well. So well, Niall had already sworn undying love to one multi-tiered chocolate cake, two friendly corgi-poodle mixes, Zayn’s hair, and the entire population of Los Angeles. So well, Zayn had only laughed and ruffled Niall’s hair and not even twitched towards a cigarette. So well, nearly everyone had spilled far past the boundaries of the night’s original plans, extracting bottles of vodka from the cabinets and losing a lot of clothes. Harry had proclaimed that he was finally going to throw a small and very grownup dinner party and of course here they were three hours later, fifty people half-naked in the pool. Soon to be full-naked, if Louis had to guess. Everybody in LA loved a heated pool. Everybody loved Harry.

Me: I love love love this. Harry is so gentle, and Louis is so stubborn and needy. It's ABO but subtle. I'll read this one again and again. It's comforting.

@HelloAmHere is one of the best writers I know--amazing stuff. I also love their werewolf story, but it's not finished, so I won't link it here.

Other favorites:

1. Seven Up by cherrystreet - https://archiveofourown.org/works/5828539

Very loosely based on the British TV show "The Up Series" and somewhat inspired by the song “Something I Need” by Onerepublic, we follow the lives of Harry Styles and Louis Tomlinson in an interview setting every seven years. They fall apart and come together, their lives and emotions recorded. Harry calls it a time capsule. Louis calls it a pain in the arse.

Me: Trigger Warning, major character death. I literally SOBBED through the end of this. It was lovely and devastating. So good. But be warned.

2. Light, Spark and Fire series by @greenfeelings

Life’s pretty ordinary for Harry. He lives with his best friend, got into university just like he’s planned, and manages to support himself just fine for an unbonded omega. If he sustains that lifestyle by getting paid to help alphas through their rut every now and then, that’s nothing to be hung up on. Until he’s hired by an alpha that turns everything upside down.

Or, Louis and Zayn run a music label, Liam is Britain’s up-and-coming pop star, Harry’s working on taking Louis’ walls down until he builds his own up, and Niall holds them all together without realising he does.

Me: A nice healthy three-parter. Characters you just want to live with for a while.

3. Relief Next to Me by dolce_piccante - https://archiveofourown.org/works/1117942

AU. What happens when a baker and a graphic designer meet via a very specific Craigslist post? Fate, friendship, food, and maybe more.

Me: This one is super long, so be prepared when you dive in. It's got a lot of lovely bits, and some great smut.

4. 2012 'Verse by ashavahishta - https://archiveofourown.org/series/27601

Me: This is a five-parter and satisfies my love of canon compliant stories. It spans most of 2012 and into 2013, and illustrates the difficulties of Harry and Louis' relationship amid the band success and management disapproval.

5. Love After the End of the World by mercurial-madhouse (writing_practice) - https://archiveofourown.org/works/31251434/chapters/77248901

Society shattered when all electricity suddenly cut off across the globe, plunging the world into darkness. Now, Prometheus Industries is the sole remaining supply of power, a saving grace to those who survived Lights Out. As fugitives in no-man’s land struggling to break into Prometheus HQ, death lurks around every corner for Louis and Zayn. Things get complicated when a routine recon falls apart and Louis collides with Harry and his mates Niall and Liam, survivors with their own agenda.

When staying alive is already a constant battle, the deadliest weakness is to be in love. For Harry and Louis, finding each other sits on top of the endless list of What Else Could Go Wrong.

Me: Really unusual (as far as I can tell) end of the world story. I loved the characterizations of soul mates here at the end of the world.

6. Flightless Bird by audreyhheart - https://archiveofourown.org/works/6401653/chapters/14656807

AU where Louis Tomlinson is a principal dancer with The Royal Ballet. When his rival from ballet school, moody dance prodigy Harry Styles joins the company, old wounds are reopened and old passions reignited. During the company's production of Swan Lake the secret that doomed their love is finally revealed, but will it be too late?

Me: Trigger Warning, sexual assault (by an original character to a major character). This was a little brutal because I hated to see a broken Harry, but it was well written and has a happy ending.

7. Wear It Like A Crown by zarah5 - https://archiveofourown.org/works/1816771/chapters/3900322

AU. As part of a team of fixers hired to handle a gay scandal in Buckingham Palace, Louis expects Prince Harry to be a lot of things—most notably a royally spoilt brat. Never mind that the very same Prince Harry used to star in quite a number of Louis' teenage fantasies.

Me: I loved Louis in this one--actually they are both pretty great. Scratch that, they are ALL pretty great.

8. Shake Me Down by AGreatPerhaps12 - https://archiveofourown.org/works/3331958/chapters/7285322

Harry's new to college, fresh out of Catholic school and conversion therapy camp, and Louis runs the campus LGBTQIA organization.

Me: I don't like the self-hate here, but it was necessary for the story and H comes around. Found family vibe.

9. Gods & Monsters by Velvetoscar - https://archiveofourown.org/works/2090982/chapters/4550871

The instructions were simple: seduce and destroy Harry Styles. Not once did they discuss the option of Louis actually falling in love. So, naturally, that's exactly what he did.

Me: I loved Harry in this one. Louis gets there. I don't like Liam, but I don't think you're supposed to. Zayn is great.

10. Own the Scars by crinkle-eyed-boo (KimmieRocks) - https://archiveofourown.org/series/1010796

Louis has never felt like he was good enough: for his stepdad, for his life-long best friend, for the life he's supposed to want. After an accident that nearly costs him his life, Louis' parents send him to rehab where he’s forced to face his demons. On the long and difficult road to recovery, Louis must confront the truths he’s been avoiding about his future, his relationships, and his sense of self-worth. Because before he can love anyone else, he’s got to learn how to love himself first.

Me: Harry is lovely in this one. Trigger warning, substance abuse and near death.

11. Wild Love by purpledaisy - https://archiveofourown.org/series/1030904

AU: Two best friends try to date each other for forty days. It's supposed to be fun until emotions make it complicated.

Me: I loved this way more than I thought I would. It's lovely and messy and I love it.

12. Victorian Boy by audreyhheart - https://archiveofourown.org/users/Rosann1986/readings?page=6

Victorian AU. Harry the virgin Duke of Somerset knows little of love, while Louis the sly Duke of Warwick knows too much. When the two dukes come together for the Bilsdale fox hunt in York, Harry finds himself drawn into Louis' bed. But when secrets from Louis' dark past come to light, Harry fears that the fox isn't the only one being hunted.

Me: Historical fiction I didn't intend to love. I LOVE Harry in this one. LOTS of smut, so be warned.

13. Keep Me Closer by zanni_scaramouche - https://archiveofourown.org/works/30752633

Louis expects Harry to react poorly, maybe even file a formal complaint and that’s gonna suck ass but Louis won’t say shit cause he knows he deserves it, so he prepares an apology before Harry’s even turned around.

What he doesn’t expect is Harry to fucking drop.

Me: lovely, protective Louis just trying to do the right thing.

14. Turning Page by purpledaisy for SockstheDog

https://archiveofourown.org/works/11826345

AU: Harry Styles tries to get lost in a place he’s never been.  Louis Tomlinson has been perfecting the art of being lost for years. What they don’t expect to find is each other.

Me: sweet love story. Niall owns a bar, and is pretty great.

15. Freedom Always Comes With a Price by Cyantific - https://archiveofourown.org/works/30278514/chapters/74624262

A shared dream brings them together onto the X-factor stage, but one decision changes Harry and Louis’ lives overnight. Thrust into a world of instant stardom, they're forced to live a lie to sustain their dreams, but years of living in the shadows and under strict management takes its toll.

With the bands impending hiatus, there’s no better time for change, so they think.

Desperate for a solution, they turn to an unlikely source with a radical plan. An unfortunate accident sets everything in motion, but not how they intended, leaving Louis’ memories altered, Harry broken-hearted and full of regret.

Can Harry figure out a way to fix everything? Will he even want to once he sees how Louis moved on after the hiatus? Will Louis ever find out the truth of their past and can he forgive Harry after all this time?

In the end, two friends find out that memories are elusive, trust is everything and love is the only antidote.

Me: Heartbreaking when they lose each other, but really good in the end.

16. Little Technicolor Things by scary_crow - https://archiveofourown.org/works/6025519/chapters/13821628

Louis is a poor writer and recent university graduate, depressed, anxious, and living in London when he meets Harry, an artist with a secret who likes to paint sunrises and pretty boys from California.

17. Hold You Now by solvetheminourdreams - https://archiveofourown.org/works/30253536/chapters/74556744

Three years ago, Harry Styles said goodbye to communications consultancy firm McQuiston Worldwide, leaving a life of travel and agency PR behind. When he accompanies his best friend to a family wedding across the Atlantic, he'll be forced to reopen old wounds and face his past—one that no one wants to hash out, but may just have to.

Me: Niall is great. They almost miss each other in this one, and you just want to bash them over the head. But they figure it out.

18. At Risk, I Fold by clare328 - https://archiveofourown.org/works/26542480

2015 is a stream of hotel rooms and whisky on the rocks, tired glances and touching hands under tables. It’s the bears and the bees under a rainbow sky, and Harry and Louis have to figure out how to grow up together, instead of apart.

Me: A canon compliant fic that feels like it could have really happened. Set in 2015. Lovely first chapter and scene where Harry writes If I Could Fly--i could read that chapter over and over.

19. Into The Blue by zarah5 - https://archiveofourown.org/works/1035822/chapters/2065499

AU. In which Louis is Harry's scuba instructor and quite happy to provide the requested special treatment, pun fully intended. It can't be all that difficult to convince Harry that they're on the same page, right? Also, Niall and Liam may or may not be dating, and Zayn is surrounded by emotionally stunted idiots. He bears it with dignity.

Me: AKA the Scuba fic.

20. Tie Your Heart by ArcadianMaggie - https://archiveofourown.org/works/546688/chapters/973236

Harry grows wings.

Me: How can you not love a fic where Harry grows wings? Trigger warning: injury of a major character.

21. I think I'll end this here. My last and probably first favorite (read it more than once) is...

my heart is breathing for this moment in time by usedtothebeach - https://archiveofourown.org/works/934996/chapters/1820282

When Louis first saw Harry at the 2010 X Factor Auditions, he thought he was watching a peculiarly special stranger. But Harry has known Louis ever since he was five years old.

Because Louis has a rare genetic disorder that causes him to Time Travel to important moments in his past and in his future - and to Harry, always to Harry. When they're put into a band together, it seems like everything Harry has been waiting and wishing for has finally come true. Except for the small fact that Louis doesn't know that Harry is in love with him- that Harry's always been in love with him. Fate, it would seem, is just getting started.

A story about growing up and growing together, and the impossible love that makes it all worthwhile.

Me: I LOVED the Time Traveler's Wife by Audrey Niffenegger, and I'm a huge fan of time travel, so this is right up my alley. It's really well done, weaving canon into fantasy and then going years forward in tme. I love everything about it. Great character development. Really good smut. Trigger warning, there's a little underage sex, so be aware. Anyway, LOVE this one so much.

I'll add to this but it's already longer than I meant it to be.

[clairenchanted]

man / monster. 

maybe the creature was the monster anyway. 

that’s the line, the frankenstein’s not the monster, he’s the doctor! and then  the well meaning pause, the he’s still the monster, isn’t he?  to make someone and leave them? to revile them? to hurt them?  a little laughter, the kind you find in polite, intellectual conversations.  honestly, you say to your grad school friends, he’s still the monster. 

my mother and i have spent our lives fluent in anger. english is our second language. i remember getting off the bus at the stop before the bridge where i’d meet her after school. i remember the car was silver that would camouflage itself against the watery afternoon light, and the thing that took up most of the space in the interior was the anticipation of what would come. do you know how long i’ve been waiting she would say, or. what did you forget to do today. or, i bet you didn’t start your homework yet. or, i can’t today i can’t do this with you today. i would breathe, i would start my words, and they would all fall against the knife edge of her anger; i learned that mine needed to be sharper and harder if they were ever going to stand a chance. 

whenever i hung out with the girl down the block, or the only cousin my age, my mother would sigh. she would say you talk just like her when you get back. like it’s a bad thing. i searched in her tone and in her eyes and in my own words circling me in my empty bedroom, trying to find the part where it went wrong. 

the thing was, the creature was beautiful.  canonically, specifically. his limbs were in proportion, and i had selected his features as beautiful. beautiful! the creature is eight feet tall and does not fit the beautiful features the doctor --  (he’s not a doctor, your grad school friend whispers to you with the delight of knowing these kinds of things. he dropped out of college! where’s your degree, buddy? where’s your student loan debt? and he calls himself a doctor.)   misery became me in college. that was our currency -- money secondary. we traded in sleepless nights and how many pages we had to write and how many classes we took. i started to fall from where i had been (a star of a student, an apple of an eye, a requisite on the honor roll) and i learned how to make failure my home. it was what i heard, it was what i saw. so, necessarily, it was what i lived. 

they would drink, so i would drink. they would beset their sentences militantly with as many syllables as they could mange -- i learned how to breathe around longer and longer words, lost in my own verbosity. (read: wordiness.) 

anyway, the creature does not fit the beautiful features frankenstein selected for him; he stretches his skin and makes it sallow. all of the parts of him, beautiful on their own, are disparate together. they show their differences, their points of origin. they do not hide. they do not make one seamless whole.  so frankenstein, in revulsion of what he has done, leaves.  and the creature, who does not know that he is a creature, does not know why, because he does not know that he is a creature. 

i am used for my intelligence, so i start to use others for what they can give me. i structure my world in varying degrees of usefulness. i curl around the empty parts inside of me and tell myself that they are unnecessary; what can emotions do for me? how can loneliness harm me? 

but then i am met with understanding, and something in me surges up and out, trying to copy what i have just seen. 

we learned about mirror neurons in a cognitive neuroscience class i didn’t do very well in. but i remember those; i remember thinking about looking at someone else and letting myself feel the urge to mimic them. i remember wondering if it would happen if i looked in the mirror; if i could ever want to mimic myself. if there was an answer at the bottom of that endless philosophical cycle the very question would create. 

in the story, the monster doesn’t eat meat.  he is well spoken; he asks things like: isn’t he meant to be adam (biblically, literally)? who is he, where did he come from, why is he alone?  was he made to be alone? 

what the creature also doesn’t know is that frankenstein (the man who is not a doctor) did not ask any of these of the creature he made, because it was never about the life that would be made. what he loves are the questions: how much blood, how much flesh, how much air makes a corpse a living thing? what he hates is: how can one live now that they are alive? 

the man hates the monster, and the monster learns how to hate. 

(all men hate the wretched, says the creature who becomes a monster, how, then, must i be hated, who am miserable beyond all living things!) 

(this is not a justification for murder, of course. but this is a story, and the monster is making a point here.) 

my best friend’s laughter -- rare and quiet -- is infectious. we sit on my couch in my apartment and start howling with laughter until we forget what we were laughing about in the first place. but her red face, streaked with joy and tears, fills my chest with an electric warmth and her euphoria becomes my own and we laugh again and again. i cry with her, too, when the hour grows late and she opens the shell around her fragile heart; we are connected with a thin live wire and when she feels, i feel. 

they (a special they) approach me with gentle hands and words unmasked and unbeguiling. they come without wants except for the fact that that’s not true; we all have wants that live deep within us, tender and lacking bite. wants that don’t hurt, that fill us with a softness that wraps around our jagged edges and soothes the ache in our throats. they come with understanding and honesty and everything in me rushes to meet them with the same: twin waves kissing at the crest. 

i have learned things in the intervening years and my slow crawl into adulthood. i have learned that my anger is sparked by its twin, brought to life with the same electric shock that raises the creature in every film iteration. i have learned, sometimes, to swallow it back. i have learned to want things that are not shown or given to me: i have learned to want to be soft and open, to want to hollow out my chest and make space for the things and people i find around me. i have learned the things i like and dislike about my disparate, stitched together parts. i have learned to find the seams bound in tight, black thread. 

i have learned my creature-ness. 

the argument inherent in monster versus man is what makes each. inevitably, though, you can only find the similarities: both are made; both are made of what they see of others like so many fingerprints left behind on glass. both desire; both desire to understand who they are (doctor, philosopher, loving, loved). both are who they make of each other: monster, man. murderer, meddler. 

there is something relieving in monstrosity, as if i can breathe fully around the idea in a way that humanity denies. there are many ways the story could have ended: in understanding, in acceptance, in dignity and knowledge and perseverance. and there is only one way it could have ended (tragedy) because the question sits like a knot in the deepest part of the story’s heart: what is the difference between monster and man? 

as if it’s important. 

i am not un-dangerous. but i can reach out my hands, palms up, fingers without claws, and know that i, the monster, will be gentle and loving. and in that moment, it and i become only a word to keep track of things, at home in our sewn together body. 

[luna-almighty-god]

Guardian Angel N°11 [My little brother, you deserve to exist]

I present to you today the chapter eleven of Guardian Angel!

This story is obviously not canonical, please do not refer to it if you are looking for canonical information.

Have a good read!

===

First Chapter

Previous Chapter

===

Insomnia chirped softly, happy to be surrounded by leaves and pencils on the ground. Nyx had of course taken care to arrange the cushions, as Killer did every time he left his son on the floor, and now watched the child with a gentle gaze, attentive to the slightest of his gestures.

The little one continued to laugh and had fun scribbling on the leaves that fell into his hand. It was fun to watch him change pencils, bend his head to the side as if he was looking for an idea, and then stick out his tongue under the weight of intense reflection.

That baby was just so cute.

Nyx laughed, settling more comfortably in the sofa to watch him. Without really realizing it, his own hands had gotten busy and scribbled a sketch of the child. Drawing was instinctive for him. It came naturally to him to make an artwork, without him really needing to think about it. That's why he didn't like receiving compliments such as "You draw well".

For Nyx did not see beauty in talent, but in effort. Someone who made an effort to draw well, to do something beautiful, was someone who drew well. But someone like him, who didn't care about the end result, couldn't draw 'well', because that same person didn't put any passion into it.

That's why Nyx had always admired Ink. He always gave his all, no matter what the situation was, no matter what his condition was. He tried to do his best, and that was most admirable.

Nyx admired Ink. He loved Ink from the depths of his soul. That innocent love a child has for its parent. For Nyx could never bring himself to hate the painter, even the one in his timeline...

“Gahaaaa !”

Nyx blinked his eyes, leaned his head to the side and saw Insomnia waving at him with a sulky pout:

“Gagaa ! Gaaa !”

He then tapped his can, swelling his cheeks and continuing to shake, and Nyx laughed. He got up and came to find the little one, gently taking him in his arms:

“Are you hungry, little guy? I'll see what I can find.”

Horror was absent, just like the rest of the bad sanses. So Nyx was left to his own devices, but that was not a real concern. He had had the opportunity to take care of a child before ... the sweet, adorable little Lux, whose smile had comforted him so many times ...

Did he also cancel her birth?

He froze, a dull pain gripping his soul. He relived the little girl's look, her joy of life, her optimism, her crystalline laughter, her hugs ...

He closed his eyes, repressing tears. He had promised himself that he would fix everything by coming here... and that included helping Cross go out with Epic, not Dream. Because the swordsman and the guard were like Ink and Nightmare: a couple by compulsion, not by love. Even though Dream and Cross had managed to bond enough to keep from falling into despair...

“Gah... ?”

Insomnia's squeak brought him back to earth. He looked at the child in astonishment, then his eyes widened as the two little hands came to rest on his face and the baby, on the brink of tears, emitted a sob-like twitter.

Nyx felt its throat to knot:

“Oh, Somnia ... Don't cry, I'm all right...”

He kissed him gently on the forehead, caressing his back to comfort him, then approached with a new smile to prove his point. But the child was not fooled and continued to fidget. How to calm him down? Nyx really didn't want to see him cry, especially not for himself ...

An idea suddenly occurred to him. There was one thing that amused Lux greatly, maybe Insomnia would enjoy it too?

Although it seemed silly to him, he checked around him to make sure there was no one around and concentrated to perceive a magical energy in the castle. But as agreed, he was alone with the baby.

He closed his eyes, blew softly, intriguing the child who tilted his head to the side ... before bursting out laughing when Nyx revealed his star-shaped pupils.

The black-boned skeleton laughed, blinked to transform his pupils again, changing them into a pink diamond and a blue square, causing the baby to laugh again. Going through all the possible shapes and colors, Nyx decided to stick to the round, starry shapes and colors such as blue, purple or black, having fun adding shades of pink and red, marveling at Insomnia who was chirping again, happily tapping his little palms.

While continuing his little merry-go-round, Nyx came to the kitchen and used shadows to make his tentacles appear. They searched the cupboards and the fridge, preparing with ease a bottle of vanilla milk - as Killer had recommended.

It was an intense relief to be able to be himself, not to have to be suspicious and hide his pupils or appendages, just to be able to act without worrying about betraying himself to others.

He held a sigh, not wishing to spoil Insomnia's joy. The little one had turned away from his eyes to look at his tentacles in astonishment, before twittering again and waving his own little tentacles, making Nyx smile with tenderness.

“You're so adorable, little guy.”

He kissed his cheekbone and retrieved the bottle. Insomnia quickly grabbed it, excited, and shoved the teat into his mouth, relaxing immediately at the first sip.

Nyx settled him more comfortably in the hollow of his arms and returned to the living room where he sat back on the couch, while his tentacles struggled to put away the coloring and cushions. He thought that maybe he should have invited PaperJam, he hadn't seen him for a while and thought that he and Insomnia could have played together. It would probably be a next time.

If there was a next time...

He tensed up slightly, barely holding on to his feelings, which were just waiting to break the barrier and burst into the open. He had to think of something else, to keep his mind from wandering.

“... gah ...”

He blinked, looked at Insomnia who had gradually released the bottle, half asleep.

Nyx softened:

“Tired, eh ...?”

He retrieved the bottle to put it on the table and then went quietly to the little one's room, gently caressing his head:

“... Me too, I'm tired ...”

He reached the room, entered naturally and gently placed the baby in the bed, making sure it was set up correctly, watching that the room was at a suitable temperature for the little one, taking the time to turn down the heating but still covering the little legs with a thin blanket.

“Go Somnia, go to sleep.

- Gah ....

- Don't worry, I won't stay away.”

The baby tried to respond, but, too tired, he finally closed his eyes, falling gently into Morpheus' arms.

Nyx contemplated him for a few moments, as if hypnotized, without being aware of his pupils turned blue.

He looked away painfully, he let himself slide to the ground with spite.

How did you... For all his love for Insomnia, for the innocence of this young boy, how...

How could he feel so bad? So envious?

How dare he be jealous of such a little baby?

He closed his eyes, put his head against the bed, controlling his breathing as best he could.

He had to hold on.

He had to hold.

He had to...

[He petrified]

He jumped to his feet, his eyes wide open in terror.

[Impossible. Impossible impossible impossible]

There…

There was new magic in the castle.

[A Overly familiar magic]

[Way too terrifying]

He turned around to face the door, suddenly feeling shaky. Magic was approaching its location. Or should I say...

[She approached Insomnia]

Nyx is swallowing. His own magic was camouflaged, not the child's. It gave him the advantage of surprising the intruder. At least he would have had the advantage if he hadn't been so terrified, literally paralyzed by fear.

But he had to move, if only to put the child in the ab-

Her body vanished into the shadows the instant the door slammed, waking Insomnia who squealed with surprise.

The baby blinked, confused, not understanding what was going on, or even why Nyx was no longer at his side. But he trembled under the frightening sensation of a torrent of negative emotions.

He hiccupped, painfully straightened himself up, raising his innocent gaze to the new presence, the newcomer.

He was all the more confused. For if he didn't really recognize the magic facing him, the owner was very familiar to him.

“... Gah... ?” he said leaning his head to the side, not understanding what Ink was doing there.

But despite his young age, he easily understood that something was wrong.

Ink had an unpleasant smell.

A smell of blood and dust.

The little one fell back to his bed, suddenly intimidated, but above all ....

[Completely scared]

It wasn't Ink. It wasn't the Ink he knew. It wasn't the painter who came from time to time to the castle, who laughed with his parents, who kept him company to draw with Nyx.

And by the way ... where was Nyx?

He trembled at the agreement of a laugh. A cynical, dangerous laugh.

The demented laugh of Ink whose pupils had turned purple.

Insomnia remained frozen.

He was just a baby. Just a tiny little baby. How could he have defended himself? What could he have done in the face of an adult far more powerful than himself?

He barely had time to see the brush being held up.

The brush that came crashing down.

Shattering against a sharp tentacle.

“Wha... ?!”  Ink let go of Ink in a stupor, before his pupils suddenly disappeared in a dull rage.

But he didn't have time to react as the shadows fell on Insomnia, drowning him abruptly to make him disappear.

Insomnia coughed, lost, his gaze for a moment veiled by darkness, before he suddenly regained his vision and became more confused: how had he arrived in the corridor? Impossible for him to think about it: Nyx had just appeared and grabbed him in his arms, starting a race through the corridors of the castle, panicked.

“Gah?!” exclaimed the baby as he perceived the older one's bluish pupils.

Nyx did not hear him, turned in a corridor, his mind tortured by his fear and the profusion of insults he was inflicting on himself. What the hell was going on? What was going on? What the fuck was going on?!

[What was his father doing here?!]

The pain that twisted his soul made his bile rise. His phalanges tightened on the child.

[His timeline still existed?]

[How? Why?!]

[How did Ink get here?!]

[THE PORTAL WAS DESTROYED]

He came to curse his magical instability, the fucking instability that kept him from teleporting. The slightest use of magic was twisting him around, and he wasn't inclined to have a seizure now. Not when he didn't have an apple in his hand.

Damn .... Fuckin' ...!

Nyx came into the living room, insulted himself again. His things had remained in his room, including his pencil. Pencil which was his only way to get from one AU to another without using his magic!

He would almost have slapped himself if he hadn't been so focused on staying calm. His only escape: finding paint, praying for it to bring Ink in. The good Ink!

But the idea tied his throat. If the two Inks found out, his cover would be blown, his secret would be understood without the slightest harm!

“...gah or...”

He jumped, looked at Insomnia, who hugged him trembling.

Nyx fainted. The baby was in danger, and he worried that his secret would be discovered? What an idiot! The little one's health was more important than anything else!

He went through the room again in a hurry: he knew there was paint, he had seen Insomnia using it that very morning! So why couldn't he put the hand of...

Nyx threw himself back, narrowly dodged a bone that shattered part of the floor.

The air became much colder than before.

“Alive and well...” Ink's voice growled, cold and angry, as the painter took his time entering the room, his white pupils landing on Nyx in violent disgust.

The skeleton retreated again, the face turned pale. There was no possibility of escape now.

Ink glanced at him scornfully before turning his attention to Insomnia:

“Temporal rewriting... Error and Dream did a good job. It almost could have been a good plan... if they hadn't sent you.”

Nyx tensed up, feeling himself getting weaker and weaker when he came across that hateful look again. And Ink, who fully knew the effect he was having on his son, sneered maliciously:

“What a joke... I guess they should have been the ones to go. But Ruru really didn't measure up to me!”

Nyx's back hit the wall, giving him the painful reality of being completely trapped, while his mind came to torture him again, that a memory made him want to burst into tears. The memory of Ink finishing Error without the slightest remorse.

“... H- He loved you...” Nyx stuttered, squeezing Insomnia a little tighter.

The painter's pupils turned purple before he struck violently at the table, destroying it abruptly, shaking the rest of the room.

“He loved me...? he repeated. He loved me?”

Nyx had no time to react, too destabilized by the situation, and it was in a scream that he felt a bone come out of the wall behind him, a bone that shattered a rib and paralyzed him with pain.

Insomnia made a whimper, squirming in his arms as if to observe the wound, but Nyx held him tightly against it, protecting him with his arms, grimacing as he glanced feverishly at his father.

Ink trembled with rage, as if consumed by an inferno:

“He NEVER loved me!

- That's not true! All you had to do was open his eyes, give him time, not rush him like you did!

- WHAT DO YOU KNOW ABOUT IT?!”

Nyx's soul turned blue and he was tackled against the wall much more violently. Ink approached dangerously, close to insanity, ready to implode, to destroy everything:

“Did you have fun changing the story? Getting involved in lives that don't concern you?”

Nyx felt the tears burning his eyes:

“... I-it concerns me ...”

His voice broke:

“You are my parents...”

Ink petrified a few centimeters away from him, his eyes devoid of pupils, hit hard by his words ... before suddenly clenching his teeth and materializing a new bone at the sharp end, to plant it sharply in his son's shoulder, in a sinister creak that accompanied Nyx's scream.

“YOU...”

He pressed harder, digging deeper and deeper into the cracked bone, not caring about his son's cry.

“Don't you ever dare to think of me as your father again.”

The black-boned one yelps, terrified, unable to defend himself.

Ink growled again, raised his hand to Insomnia:

“Get off that kid. He doesn't belong here. He's not supposed to exist.”

Nyx hiccuped. It wasn't supposed to exist...? ... Quite the contrary. Insomnia had every reason to exist. It was born of a loving union, it was born because it was wanted. It was born because its presence was desired, because it was proof of a powerful love between two beings.

Insomnia had to exist. Insomnia deserved to exist.

And the fury that seized Nyx finally broke the barrier around his soul. His left pupil glowed bright red.

[His magic exploded]

The surge of energy propelled Ink backwards, although he barely managed to catch up. Seeing Nyx break the bone that held him against the wall, the Creator made his brush appear a second time and threw himself at his son, but the son teleported behind him.

Ink was horrified at being dodged, and had great difficulty deflecting the tentacles that pounced on him. It was only the second time Nyx dared to stand up to him, but the painter had a bitter memory of their last confrontation.

Yet the situation made him smile softly:

“I wonder if you'll dare to confront Nightmare in such a way!”

Nyx turns pale:

“Wha... He's here too?!”

Ink sneered, projected a wave of paint towards his opponent. Nyx missed being touched but melted into the shadows in time to reappear a little further away before once again using his tentacles on the painter. Painter whose smile grew larger:

“Of course he's here! Did you really think you could hide the portal from us? Ahahah, a nice way out, isn't it? Away from our world, which will soon disappear!”

Ink knocked his brush down on Nyx. This one protected himself with an arm, his arm whose wrist was wounded, his wrist whose pain until then attenuated returned more strongly, more destructive than before.

The cry of Nyx got stuck in his throat. He struggled to take support on his legs, trying as best he could to push the weapon away without letting go of Insomnia. And Ink's unhealthy laughter continued, twisting his already battered mind:

“Oh Nyx, your eyes are so evocative! Why is the gate still open, you ask? It had closed behind me, you think!”

Nyx swallowed, feeling lost, unable to ignore his father's words.

“But Nyx, for a gate to close, someone has to close it! But you must not have thought about taking care of it, did you? You thought it would do itself! But just like Cross, that stupid Cross, way too busy saving Dream's ass!”

No ... no no no no! No!

[Nyx had seen the gate disappear]

[He... He had concluded that it had closed. It was obvious!]

“You guys are idiots... So that's why they didn't go through the portal with you? They thought they'd closed up!”

Cross, Dream and Lux... had time to join him after all? Nyx couldn't believe it, couldn't accept it.

No no no no no no no !

*** ***

“Master Cross, it's closing!” Nyx exclaimed in panic as he watched the gate slowly disappear.

Cross had taken a brief glance at him before turning his attention back behind them. In the distance he could see Lux, his dear little Lux, trying to defend herself against Horror and Dust, losing ground and being wounded in the arm, without deigning to give up the battle. And not far from him was Dream. Dream, who tried to join her, to rescue her, but was confronted by Nightmare, against whom he no longer had any advantage.

And of course, Ink was surely around, spying on them with his sadistic air, waiting for the slightest breach to strike a fatal blow.

Cross had clenched his fists:

“Dream and Lux will never be able to join us...”

Nyx had flinched before frowning, staring a feverish look at their enemies, ready to draw out his tentacles:

“Yea... Let's go and help them!

- No.”

Nyx had jumped up, looked at his teacher with a confused look on his face:

“No... ?”

Cross had smiled at him:

“I trust you, kid.”

By the time Nyx grasped the tenor of his words, the monochrome had already pushed him into the portal.

Flash, terror, pain.

Nyx's scream.

“CROSS!!!”

Then nothing. Nothing at all. Silence.

And the sky.

A shining sky.

The sky of OuterTale.

*** ***

Nyx was violently brought back to reality, suffering a sharp blow that threw him to the ground, his skull twitching when he hit the ground. For a moment his sight was black and white, while a coughing fit took him, bringing the metallic taste of the blood to his puck.

He barely had the presence of mind to turn over on his stomach, to protect with his body the little Insomnia whose cries had begun to fill the room.

[Help!]

His body no longer responded, as did his mind.

[Someone, anyone]

His magic crackled, screamed, begged.

[Somebody protects Insomnia, please]

His sight was troubled by his tears, tears that slid down his face, accompanying the sobs that escaped him.

[Please, Somebody… protects my little brother]

He cowered further over the little baby, closing his eyes, apprehensive, fearing the fatal blow, the one who turned him to dust to leave only a child completely helpless.

But the only thing that reached him was Ink's scream.

A bug sounds.

The sound of footsteps.

“What the hell is this?” grew a glitchy voice, both puzzled and annoyed.

Shaken with jolts, Nyx widened his eyes, raised his head.

It was the second time ...

The second time Error saved him from Ink's hands.

===

Next Chapter

You can support me on my Utip or on my Ko-fi account !

===

Credits =

Dreamtale ->  Joku

Error -> LoverOfPiggies

Ink -> Myebi

Cross and Lux -> Jakei

Insomnia -> EnaPouyou

[sinnhelmingrmoved]

domestic ship meme for victor lesgooooo

domestic ll accepting.

I like to imagine Hel has totally done that MCU thing where Doom asks for a kiss and she smooches the mask he is not wearing them tosses it at him.

Who’s more dominant: I feel Victor is a touch more type-A than Hel, so of the two, this goes to Victor. Hel is far less assertive than he is, preferring more gentle persuasion when left to her own devices. In the bedroom…. Let me restate from past memes, sexual and otherwise, Hel is a sub. Victor takes this one by default in terms of sexual dominance.

Who’s the cuddler: Hel would have to be pried from Victor with a crowbar some days. She always likes to have some level of connection with him when they are together, even if it’s just her hand on his. What she likes best is to be in his lap and able to unwind with her head against his shoulder while he writes or studies.

Who’s the big spoon/little spoon: Hel tried to be the big spoon and was thwarted. It made some weird alignment given he’s so much taller than her, so she succumbed to playing little spoon. It’s more fun that way anyway, when he can bury his face in all her hair and keep his arms around her to make her feel safe.

What’s their favorite non-sexual activity: Magical studies and, apparently, mortifying Tsura with their understanding of modern slang. Doom is a great teacher when it comes to catching Hel up with the schooling she missed coming of age in Helheim, and there is little better than hearing a nearly 50 year old man and centuries old goddess utter the words ‘oh, worm.’

Who uses all the hot water: Hel. Victor should probably science some way that she can get as much hot water as she wants for her baths without actually depleting it for everyone else. She says he is welcome to join her if it troubles him so much, to which she probably gets a ‘Don’t change the subject,’ thus foiling her plan to ruin the subject.

Most trivial thing they fight over: Hel ‘cheating’ her way through a language lesson. She paid good money for that Latverian phrasebook. Victor is just so disappointed in her.

Who does most of the cleaning: Servants. Seriously, they’re both royal. She has Ganglot and Gangloti, he has a castle worth of help. 

What has a season pass on their dvr/Who controls the netflix queue: I imagine Tsura has primary reign, actually. When she’s not around to man the remote, it usually falls to Hel. I don’t know that Victor has been able to handle the netflix queue in months.

Who calls up the super/landlord when the heat’s not working:  Victor already fixed it before it ever became an issue. Hel is both impressed and mildly alarmed. Is there anything that this man cannot do?

Who leaves their stuff around: Yes, the answer is he cannot put away some of his shit. Yes, he has servants, but it’s the spirit of the thing, Victor. He has the ultimate out of motioning at her own stuff left lying about and making her admit he has a point. For the most part, both are very tidy, and it’s never anything major.

Who remembers to buy the milk: Serv– You know what, actually, Victor. He’s a human. He’s lived on Earth. He has exchanged currency for goods and services before. He’s been to college and ostensibly had to purchase food before whilst living in his dorm. He understands how shopping works far, far better than his ‘ageless but only theoretically mastered this whole life on Earth thing’ lover.

Who remembers anniversaries:  Both of them. I also get the feeling neither of them is above trying to use wit and cunning to figure out what the other has gotten them. The week leading up to any anniversary is fraught with espionage and interrogations. No one in the castle can sleep. Everyone is afraid of walking in and seeing something that renders them culpable. 

Who cooks normally: This one time Hel tried to cook to be sweet. Latveria almost lost its beloved king that night. Hel’s cooking is more potent than any poison of mortal make. It falls to the servants now, as it should.

How often do they fight: A little sparring between partners, whether magical or physical, keeps the spark alive – as Hel tries to climb out the window. Joking aside, 

What do they do when they’re away from each other: Both have kingdoms to rule, but Victor also continues his scientific and magical pursuits and generally being a thorn in the F4′s side, where Hel has her reading and wandering around Midgard. 

Nicknames for each other: Hel likes to show just how well she’s learned the languages he’s taught her, predominantly Latverian and Hungarian. I’ve already used csillagom here – which amounts to ‘my star’ in Hungarian – which I think is a good indication for how she addresses Victor in private, that he’s radiant, that he’s celestial, something that examines his power and what she perceives as his light. By contrast, and you can correct me on these Rock Facts, but I imagine Victor is a bit more gentle with her, tender. A bit more grounded than Hel tends to be, something to remind her how good she can be, while still acknowledging her power and ability.

Who is more likely to pay for dinner: Hel does and then takes him to very expensive places so she does not get any less than she paid for when she forks over literal gold. It’s horrifying. She has such little money and it’s all older than several cultures. But at least she gets to wine and dine her favorite man.

Who steals the covers at night: Victor. Hel is charmed but ultimately confounded on mornings where he ends up in some kind of blanket burrito. Is he aware that this is not his cape? 

What would they get each other for gifts: Hel brings Victor old tomes, beautifully inscribed and illustrated, from when magic was very young on this plane. Also, since he apparently likes metal so much, bits of jewelry and metalwork for if he ever feels fancy, either with some history behind it or specifically made for him alone. Victor, meanwhile, I imagine likes to see Hel in style while also putting a lot of thought into this – his lady will wear no common finery. Jewels and symbols of status, enhancements woven into their surface.

Who kissed who first: Hel. She had to test and see if he could take the ‘interesting’ texture of her lips. To her surprise, not only could he take it, he liked it.  

Who made the first move: Victor. Hel was far too concerned about Victor’s boundaries to make her move, propriety keeping her within the bounds of the platonic even when she wanted more. She was unsure of how to show her interest, so Victor beat her to the chase. Sufficed to say, Hel was more than receptive.

Who remembers things: Victor. It’s honestly mind-boggling just how much information he retains, but Hel is not about to question it. The most he ever gets is a joke that he makes her feel her age when it comes to trying to remember things.

Who started the relationship: Again, Victor. Otherwise, nothing would have gotten down and Hel would have just sat in ‘this is fine’… well, hell. Mentor and student to friends to, finally, after quite long enough, lovers.

Who cusses more: They’re too articulate for that, really. Hel slips up once and curses and is mortified, to Victor’s endless amusement.

What would they do if the other one was hurt: Victor probably would not let it happen, having cast some protective magic over Hel in the event of any attack. Then he would deal with that threat to the best of his abilities – God help them. Hel, meanwhile, is as usual more defensive, more likely to shield and focus on getting Victor out of any fray terrible enough to leave serious damage. 

Who is the dirty talker: Victor is the literal worst and by that I mean he’s so good that Hel cannot with him. And the most obnoxious part is he is probably well aware that he is good. He can be subtle, too, so everyone might see the shot but only Hel actually feels it hit. Somewhere in the vicinity of her brain, as it spirals into the gutter. Don’t worry, other parts are affected too, far, far south.

A head canon: Once, after Hel had become well acquainted with the locals of the capital, they managed to wheedle her into a certain outfit for a festival, so she could ‘get into the spirit’. Hel ended up caught in the celebrations in the central square, clad in a traditional Latverian dress, her long dark hair down, having herself a time. It was around the middle of the day she turned, saw Victor, and could do nothing but smile. The outfit and its colors really did flatter her, as did her easy grin and bright eyes. And so it was that Victor Von Doom, looking down on his subjects, seeing a new side to Hel, had to tell himself be strong, Victor. Be strong for mother.

[clumsychicken]

Samuel: 9, 14, 16 (and 20 if you want :P), Luna: 1, 6, 19, Nikki: 4, 8, 13, Paris: 2, 7, 10!

Samuel:

9: Does your character have a dream job or life path for themselves?Yes, he does! I’ve mentioned before that in canon he really only wants to find peace with himself and find some sort of place where he can be happy. In a modern AU, his dream is to work with maths. Most of all he wants to work for NASA and calculate trajectories - launch and landing and orbits and such. He mostly considers it impossible because of his history and mental illnesses, but maybe one day he’ll have the chance to get there…

14: When does your character feel truly at peace?When he’s surrounded by his chosen family. Being with people who he knows value and understand him can really help him shelve his anxieties for a moment. And ofc they’re a fun bunch, which always helps c:

16: What’s one memory that your character will always be fond of?Oh, man, there are many. I think one in particular was how gentle and understanding and utterly soft Anders was with him after his mother died. It’s one of the worst, most tumultuous times in his life, and Anders’ help and kindness was so sorely needed. The memory shines bright like a star compared to the void that surrounds it.

20: Describe any AUs you have for your character/s.Oh god, uh, let me see… obviously there’s the modern AU where he owns a bar and yearns for those trajectory calculations. Then there’s the Alpenglow Star Wars AU where he’s a runaway Sith warrior… aaand the other Star Wars AU where he’s literally just Darth Vader. He also exists in The Old Republic MMO, so there’s that?? Whole lot of wars and stars.He also exists in Fallout 4 where he lost his non-Anders cheated husband who glitched out the game. He’s grumpy and suffering, as usual. There are several Inquisition AUs; one where he’s a companion and the other where he’s the Inquisitor, as the devs originally planned.OH and of course there’s my precious Bloodborne Sam! Where he used to be an Executioner and grew up alongside Alfred, but became blood-addled and turned into a humongous dog beast. There’s a version where he interacts with the Hunter protagonist and one where he doesn’t. He also exists in Dark Souls, of course, where he happily invades the Chosen Undead using a rapier and pyromancies and eventually comes to respect them as they defeat him and offers to help them out instead.There’s also… a phantom of the opera AU. Where he annoys opera singer Anders and wears a mask and is as goth and dramatic as humanly possible.I think… that’s it?? I feel like I’m forgetting something, but I’ll add it later if that’s the case :’) Sam exists in every game with a cc.

Luna:

1: What’s something other characters will notice first about your character?I think first they’ll see her big, observant eyes. Then they’ll notice that she doesn’t like to talk much - not to someone she’s just met. If they really click, she’ll open up and talk their ear off, but otherwise she’ll keep quiet and let someone else do all the talking.

6: What kind of media would (or does) your character consume? This includes books, tv shows, video games, and movies.She reads sooo much. That’s definitely her preferred form of entertainment. I don’t think she plays a lot of games, but if she does it’d be platformers. Fast-paced with tight controls. She likes crime tv shows most of all, but prefers movies. Thrillers and especially horror movies are her faves. Though she can’t pass up a ridiculous sci-fi or fantasy flick once in a while ;)

19: What words would your character use to define themself?Hmm good question. I think, most of all, she’d call herself Weird. She’s always kind of felt like a square while other people were circles. I think she might also use the word Vast. She feels that way - not physically, but mentally and emotionally. It’s like there’s an ocean inside of her and she tries to build dams to keep it all under control. And she’d call herself Adventurous. She yearns to travel and explore and see and document as much as possible.

Nikki:

4: What would your character wear to a formal gathering such as a dance, a wedding, or a funeral?Oh god, always something teetering on the edge of inappropriate or tacky :’) always just a little bit too much cleavage, or a dress that’s a bit too tight or too glitzy and neon and gaudy. But That’s So Nikki and everyone knows it, and they know they’ll be seeing and hearing her a lot if they invite her. She usually wears knee-length dresses or pencil or nigh-tutu skirts. Lots of jewelry. Just the usual Nikki fare, really, only more formal than usual ;)

8: If your character attended school, did they have a favourite or best subject?Does lunch break count? :p No but Nikki loved English most of all. She also loved P.E. and every arts subject available.

13: What’s your character’s preferred method of self-care?A full tub, a bath bomb, scented candles, fragrant tea, and loud pop music. That’s just about her favourite thing after a long day or a rough time. Especially if she follows it up with her favourite body balm and making her boyfriends feel how ridiculously soft her hairy legs are now.

Paris:

2: What’s your character’s aesthetic (things associated with your character)?Ohh that’s tough. Let me see… Everything you’d associate with Ocarina of Time, you can also associate with him. And… Saturday mornings where the sunbeams roll lazily across the floor and you’re just the right kind of warm and sleepy. Freshly baked breads and pastries. The glance you give your bestie when someone said some bullshit and you both know it. That feeling when you hear a familiar song that makes you nostalgic but also a little bit sad. The feeling when you’re walking down a quiet street one late evening and can’t quite shake the feeling that you’re being watched. The feeling when you’re in a room packed with people and you still feel despicably lonely. And jewelry with nature motifs made out of solid gold.

7: What would be an average shopping list for your character?

milk

more cocoa

chocolate (crossed out and re-added)

bread

stuff to put on top of bread

Dorian’s cheddar

Dorian’s shaving cream (the unscented one)

pasta (spaghetti x4 and tortellini x4)

tomatoes, mediocre ones ok

bacon x2

6-pack, not mediocre ones

chips (not on the list, went in the cart anyway)

cheap doughnuts (not on the list, went in the cart anyway)

soda x2 (not on the list, went in the cart anyway)

fries(not on the list, went in the cart anyway)

10: Does your character have a particular way of talking or acting?What was it that Cole said?? “Sharp words hide a gentle heart”? It was something like that. And it’s very, very true. Paris is extremely soft and tender at his core, but he jokes and lazes around a lot bcs it can be just… a lot to handle sometimes. It’s easier to keep everything at an arm’s length than it is to face all the feelings that shove him around. And, ofc, he tends to joke and be sarcastic as a way to care about others. Anything else feels horribly awkward to him.