#how much of Louis memory and life has he been controlling all these years??!!!! | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

growup-thatbeautiful · 2 years

Text

your eyes can be so cruel (just as i can be so cruel)

Warnings: Canon Typical violence, a bit of horror, blood, arguing, canon typical behavior

Tags: Lestat de Lincourt/Louis de Pointe Du Lac, Loustat, The Vampire Chronicles, Fight/Make-Up, Set in Canon,

Summary: Who can blame Lestat for pushing Louis far enough to madness? Of course, that means Lestat has only himself to blame when Louis snaps back

~~~

Lestat de Lincourt was born with a heart that he didn’t grow into until it stopped beating. Until he was given that vampire’s kiss, he never loved with the full capacity that he possessed.

Once he knew he couldn’t have that mortal love, though, everything changed. Nicki, suddenly, was the brightest thing Lestat could lay his eyes upon, and he did so scarcely. Lestat has always forced himself, truly, to love more deeply than others. Therefore, he has no one to blame but himself for the pain of his past. The years spent breaking apart, slowly, over people who, to them, he was just a passing infatuation.

Lestat has never and, unfortunately, due to his natural disposition and gaping heart will never have a passing infatuation. If someone, human or otherwise, does not possess his entire character, every wretched, still, cold vein of his heart, then they simply never possessed him at all.

This is decidedly not the case with one Louis de Pointe du Lac. From the moment he saw Louis, Lestat was, figuratively and, he figures, literally, a goner. Then and there, from one fateful night to another fateful night far in the future, Lestat started looking at Louis and never stopped. How could he have been expected to see Louis, an angel before his vampiric descent, and pass up the opportunity to carve Louis as his own? Ridiculous, really.

Louis is Lestat’s at their best and at their worst. When they fight, and they do fight constantly, Lestat, usually blinded by his own malice, misses Louis dearly. There is no one he would rather converse with through all of those he has met, especially considering the dull and, pardon the humor, lifeless conversations of the other immortals.

Not that Louis can’t be dull at times. Lifeless, never, but dull, certainly. Lestat often has to remind himself how young Louis is compared to him, how little he has lived as an immortal.

At the moment, Louis and Lestat are in their usual spots, Lestat on the red velvet couch across from Louis in their sitting room. Coincidentally, they’re also having their usual argument, a timeless and endless battle between them that has no foreseeable end. The cloudy night air is coming in from the open window, gossamer drapes blowing in the wind.

With an inspiring level of self-control, Lestat tunes back into what Louis is saying. “How can we expect to receive our penitence for our crimes if we never die? Surely you have thought of the fact that there is no atonement for-“

“-oh, but I am so bored with your ceaseless wondering. My patience for your flaws, your inaptitude for our life, is all but worn out,” Lestat interrupts. He has, all at once, reached past the point where he can stand Louis’ moaning about trivial issues like God and their damnation. Why worry when Lestat knows it will never come to a point where he has to face either? His immortality, his constant life, was given to him to be cherished. He’s made it past too many ripped hearts and bleeding memories to quit himself, or others, of his presence. He is much too delightful to be lost to a being as boring as Louis’ God.

Take him at this moment now, for example. Every surface, every carefully chosen plush rug and velvet sofa screams look at me. Naturally, it is all funded by Louis, but not for Lestat’s lack of possessions. He simply can’t find it in himself to come up with a lie convincing enough to explain where his money comes from without explaining everything else. No, it is much easier for Louis to play patron to his wild and impulsive lover. If it was up to Louis, though, they would be living in some ground-floor, dust-covered storefront in the worst part of their beautiful town. Disgusting, really. This is why Lestat makes the decisions, no matter how Louis mocks him for it.

If only he could explain to Louis what he knows, tell him their history. Perhaps, then, they could have a conversation without Louis bringing up God and the Devil or calling Lestat a heartless monster. Never mind that, though; it’s nothing worse than Lestat tells himself daily. It would prove much lighter conversations, however, and ones with a point for once. Why talk about God when Akasha is a prepossessing stone deity who exists in their very realm? When Magnus walks the earth just as them, golden without light? Even Armand, that pitiful and broke vampire that Lestat left all those years before, has his beauty, his moments of irresistibility.

Louis lets out a laugh. A false, humorless laugh. “My flaws? I implore you, tell me what you think they are and I will readily absolve myself of them,” he says, sarcasm dripping in his voice.

“As you have absolved yourself of any desire to enjoy any aspect of our lives?” Lestat mocks. The unexplainable and immediate urge to push Louis further, make him snap, give him a reason to run away is strong tonight, implored by the starless night.

“A crime that you cannot go to the theater alone. Tell me, are you scared or simply incapable of protecting yourself?”

“Incapable? Never, my love. I simply much prefer the entertainment of your constant complaints,” announces Lestat dryly. For all the thousands of words slipping from his lips with practice, has long since perfected the art of saying things without truly saying anything at all. It’s a gift of his, albeit one that serves to hurt himself as much as it hurts others.

Louis runs a hand through his hair, an intimately human gesture that Lestat easily lets himself get distracted by. “My complaints, as you call them, have substance to them, at the least. Much more preferable to the bustle and thinkless thoughts of the company you choose,” says Louis pointedly.

“My company is excellent,” defends Lestat. He knows he’s wrong, fully and completely. He supposes the same way Louis knows he’s wrong about most of his wonderings. They’re pointless arguments for argument's sake when Lestat is willing to argue with Louis, of course. There is a certain specific level of power, willingness that Lestat must have in order to fight with his lover. It’s different from Claudia’s passive aggression and the strangers he finds to quarrel with mindlessly. It matters because it’s Louis, who would rather go back into the ground than actually upset intentionally.

Lestat’s company, however, is purposefully and decidedly horrible. He keeps it that way for a reason, not that he would expect Louis to know that. How could he? The innerworkings of Lestat are not understood by any, including himself.

“It is not,” argues Louis back. “It is dismal at the best of times and outright horror at the worst. There is not another who is as insistent about the wrong things as you are.” From Louis, Lestat takes the insults happily, knowing the lack of substance behind them. If Louis were truly mad, they would not be sitting in the same room, nor would Claudia be in their presence. Their fighting always irks her to no end, her preferring more adult matters, as she would say. Lestat accepts the comments with humor and as much dignity one can have while being scolded by someone half their height.

“Possibly, but it is entertaining, at the least.”

“It is nothing but a burden to me,” exclaims Louis, reclining on the sofa.

“Ah, so I can tell. You cannot bear to be in my presence,” laughs Lestat, gesturing to Louis’ choice of seating. A phantom blush rises to Louis’ cheeks at being caught so clearly. It’s undeniable that, even when he cannot stand to speak to Lestat, the comfort of his presence is not an indulgence Louis can deny himself. While there is no physical warmth in the company of Lestat or much sentimental warmth coming from Lestat himself, they are home to each other.

“Claudia possesses more brains in the tip of her pinky finger than you do in your whole body, my love,” responds Louis. Lestat knows he’s changing the subject, rather uncoordinatedly, but lets it slide.

“How you curse me so. I, who you owe everything to. I, who you could not bear to live without.” It’s Lestat’s most commonly played card, when he shows a fallacy of a hand that forces Louis to fold his cards as well.

“Bear it? I think I could readily prove to bear your absence. In fact, I would cherish it. You owe nothing to me, just as I owe nothing by you. You beneficiary of giving me this life, which I did never ask for, has long since worn out with your constant spending of my own money.”

“And now I suppose we must argue who is whose as well,” groans Lestat petulantly. “Well, let us get it over with.”

“I have never claimed ownership over you. That is a quality solely you look for, Lestat. In your eyes, I must be yours or I am nothing at all, a lost soul who will surely die within if seconds of your absence,” mocks Louis. “How could I live without you? It’s not as if I have the means on my own.”

“Ah, but you do not. You abash me for my harsh words and whining, yet there is not a night that goes by where you do not repeat that very behavior. Yes, you are mine because I made you, my beautiful angel of death. If you are not mine then you are not anything, you are alone, and that is infinitely worse. The life of our kind in solidarity is pointless to try. I do not recommend that path, my love.” Despite the finishing sentiments of his speech, there is a great deal of venom in his words, scarred from the burning sting of everything past. This, these words, Lestat knows to be true. They have been proven correct time and time again.

“I do not believe you, of all people, know that loss. Loneliness, like a plague in my mind, surely had no effect on someone as scornful as you. Solitude at it’s core, needs cause, and I do not believe you could ever be inflicted enough to need such means. You, at your core, do not have the capability to lose because you have no capability to love. They are mutually exclusive events. No, Lestat, I find the idea impossible.”

Lestat cannot reply. For once, words, his only constant companion these years, escape him. His sweet Louis, his creation, speaking the words to wound him more than the damned sun. Slowly, the grin on Louis’ face slips away. Lestat knows his fanged smile is long since gone, replaced by a stupefied, stunned face.

“Lestat?” asks Louis, taking a haltering step towards Lestat. Like Louis is the sun, Lestat backs away. His mind, usually brimming with unvoiced thoughts, is blank with ringing sirens.

In the corner of his eye, he sees Claudia peeking up from her book, a bored sort of interest on her face, her lips parted and her head tilted to the side.

A glass doll supplies a helpful voice in his head. Nothing more than porcelain. She will break. He dutifully ignores the thoughts and tries to meet Louis’ eyes.

“I think I’ve overstayed my welcome here.” It doesn’t matter that this house is theirs, not Louis. Nothing matters except getting out of this room, away from this suffocating silence.

“No, Lestat, don’t go. Let us talk about this, tell me-“

“I’ll be back before morning. Don’t stay up.” Louis’ further protests fall of ears only listening to the footfalls that take Lestat further away from the pain.

Some people underestimate the torture of love, how vulgar and alarming it can be. Lestat has never been such a person. He knew from the beginning, with his mother’s harsh truths and Nicki’s conflicting adoration. Even his lovely Claudia bites at times. That is nothing compared to the anguish of Louis’ love. It seems, in times like these, to be a viscously repeating cycle against them, rocking back and forth between hurting each other.

Mindlessly, he walks down the stairs, hand floating above the banister without touching it. The front door is large and inviting in front of him, a night that he can’t resist. With a dramatic flourish, he puts on his deep green overcoat and walks outside. It’s another cloudy winter night, the chill of the air nothing compared to the natural chill of his skin.

He passes through the neighborhood streets, quiet footsteps adding to the symphony of the night. In one of the houses that he walks past, he can hear the bustle of a party, laughter, and joy through an open window. On any other night, he would want to join in, make himself the cause of laughter, and show off the beauty he knows he has. Tonight, silence is preferable. Besides, he’s been to parties there before. They’re never worth charming his way in.

The neighborhood slips away into the lamplit streets of the city, ivy crawling on the walls and the perfume of clouds filling the night. Slowly, the aroma of bread and spices take over as he gets closer to the center of the city. Mortals pass by, women with frilled umbrellas and men wearing tailcoats, all busy and on their way to some unimportant nightime date.

It’s not the mortal delicacies that catch his mind, though. The smells of fresh seafood simmering on homemade grills and burning charcoal draw his attention like a pesky gnat would: taken with slight notice then without a second thought. They don’t matter to him, don’t draw his attention. Not the way that the people do.

There’s a cafe on the corner that he frequents when he wants to simply watch. It’s open all night, offering warmth and shelter from the drizzle that’s just starting. The barista knows him by name, knows his order by heart too. It’s Lestat’s tendency to order the most expensive thing on the menu if only to savor the idea of all the work that goes into it. His usual corner table in the corner is open, secluded from the others. A white porcelain steaming cup of coffee is in his hand, one of his fingers tracing the top of the foam absent-mindedly, his complexion rosy from feeding moments ago in a crowded alley.

He doesn't know how long he stays there, observing everyone who crosses his path. No one approaches him, his glowering figure being imposing enough to scare anyone away. He isn’t in the mood to talk anyway.

The rain stops eventually, and Lestat takes that as a sign to go home. Contemplation never was his strong suit, especially when all it can do is cause him pain. There are a lot of lines of thought that he would much rather consider than the idea that Louis doesn’t think Lestat cares. Is he not clear enough? Is Louis and Claudia’s very presence not a testament to his adoration of them? He couldn’t bear for them to grow older, lose themselves. He had to immortalize his angelic loves then and there.

Does Louis really believe that Lestat hasn’t lost something throughout those years? Naturally, Lestat hasn’t shared everything about his life story. It’s not exactly a beacon of hope for a new vampire. But one doesn’t make it through all the time Lestat’s made it through without a great deal of pain. It’s a testament to his age, all the things he’s done.

It’s not like Lestat isn’t emotional; no one has ever accused him of that. He just feels so much sometimes. It can be easier not to talk about it.

Lestat continues his thinking on the walk home. The air is humid and the stone streets running with water. He’s always loved the rain, more specifically after the rain. It serves as a balm to his aching heart.

Maybe there’s some truth to Louis’ words, at least a little. Lestat’s dramatics and feeding can sometimes seem like he doesn’t care, like he’s unsentimental, even cruel. But is that what Louis thinks? Louis, who has been his companion for these 50 years, who has gotten to know him surely more than any other since-

Well. Since a long time ago.

It is not fair, he decides, to blame Louis for thinking such things. Louis, for all his flaws, is kind above all, before he is cruel. If he thought he was going to hurt Lestat, he wouldn’t have said such a thing. It’s not as if Louis knows, truly, what Lestat has been through. He doesn’t know how he lost Nicki and the Gabrielle, and even Magnus.

By the time Lestat has reached the house, he has all but forgotten why he was ever upset, a thought in his mind to explain to Louis a little more, not reveal too much, but just enough. Enough for Louis to understand, to see where Lestat comes from. To stop this indecent and unnecessary fighting between them.

The house is dark and lonesome, the only sound is the trees rustling against the wooden walls. Lestat feels a chill run down his spine, an unexplainable loss of warmth by stepping into the front door. There is no noise coming from any of the upstairs rooms, no telltale pacing footsteps or silver-bell laugh.

“Claudia? My love?” For a moment, a mere blink of an eye, Lestat entertains the thoughts in his head, the terrible, cruel, unfair thoughts. Louis is gone, has taken Claudia and left him at last, pushed over the edge by the last, fitful, and passionate bout of childish sulking of Lestat’s nature. He is dreadfully and completely alone, once again, worse than before because he knows the wholeness of his constant companions. What villainous intent is here, lurking in the empty rooms? Surely nothing was ever among Louis and Claudia’s presence.

And the voices rise up from the shadows, loud as a vampiric song, bursting forth from the very walls around him, meant to protect him.

Lelio says one.

Wolfkiller cries another.

My creation. Lestat takes a step back, stumbling blindly into a wall.

My son.

Young one.

Beautiful one.

Blue-eyed prince.

Devil.

Angel.

Damned.

Good.

Then, rising above the noise from a loving, tender, familiar voice, one that doesn’t loath him or worships him, one that hasn’t left him behind, perhaps the only one to deliver him from himself. “Lestat.”

Again, with more emphasis. “Lestat.” Lestat’s head is whipped around by the sound, a quite regular reaction to this particular voice. He doesn’t register moving, like the air doesn’t touch him when he shifts.

He thinks Louis doesn’t see him move, judging by the surprised sound that’s forced out of his mouth. Louis, stable Louis, stumbles backward, but his arm instinctively wraps around Lestat’s hips.

The other arm comes up to hold his face, so gently. “My love, we’re you frightened?”

Oh, the sweet intoxication that encompasses everything that is Louis! The torture of his absence and the blissful release of his return. It’s a never-ending up and down, a whiplash of emotional highs and lows that he can hardly keep track of. Louis is Lestat’s reason for existence, which has never been more clear. Sure, Lestat can tell himself that he’s independent or can take care of his needs, but he has been shown time and time again how much he yearns for company. First, he had Gabrielle, then Nicki, both of whom he lost quickly and with a deserved amount of pain. Then, Magnus and the stone Akasha, lovely in their own ways. Now, he has Louis, who takes care of Lestat in his own way. Lestat knows no one who is as dutiful a partner as Louis has proven to be. Lestat knows that he isn’t always the easiest to be around. Only today he has been antagonistic and rude, distant and on the verge of hysterical.

Like he’s leading a cagey, wounded animal, Louis leads Lestat with a hand on the small of his back. Through the thick material of his coat, which Lestat is only now realizing he never took off, he can feel the heat of Louis’ hand. He must have fed again.

They walk through the halls of their home, passing dusty rooms until they reach a heavy wooden door. Louis shoulders it open bodily, his hands never leaving Lestat. The smell of old books and candle wax fills the air, the library fire lighting the whole room and filling it with the crackling sound of flames.

“Are you alright?” is Louis' first question, once they’re seated in plush armchairs by the fire. The chairs are strategically placed close to each other, their knees touching with a slight but constant pressure. “Because I cannot help but blame myself for this whole affair. I hurt you, more than I meant to. More than I ever want to.”

“Sentimental fool,” accuses Lestat fondly. “My Louis, my tortured one, you have plagued yourself enough for one night. Join me in joyful revels of mortal souls.” It’s an uncommon olive branch between the two of them, an offer to distract Louis and appease Lestat.

“How can I, when I have wounded you so? Sliced at things I did not understand, did not consider. Your past, a definition and cause of the man you are today has owned you greater hurt than I ever thought. So often I forget that your time before me was not just empty years. You had love then as you do now, and I am by no means a first of anything.”

Lestat takes a moment to respond, a testament to the gravity of the situation. It’s not often that he thinks before he speaks. “My love, I am not as wise as my years should have made me, but I know this. Never in my death, and most assuredly not in my short life, have I spent such cadence with another. It is not usual, I think, for creatures like us to find solace in each other. We are hateful, solitary things; we cannot help it, it is simply in our nature. However, we are not unloving, you and I. To the pure annoyance of the rest of our kind, we love mortally and without trepidation. I have had many loves with different names, in my years. Admittedly, they have known me by different names as well. I cannot think of a single one that has not ended in my heartbreak and tears, but I do not blame them. How could I? I am the insufferable one; I am the lonely, bratty, arrogant one.”

“You are not,” interrupts Louis finally. His voice soft, his eyes truthful. His hand flutters at his side, like he wants to reach out to Lestat, but doesn’t. Lestat misses his touch at this moment.

“Oh, I know I am,” laughs Lestat. “I do not hold it against myself, generally. May I continue?”

“Please.” Louis’ words are strained and thin, as if he doesn’t want to hear this. Lestat would believe so if he hadn’t asked for this.

“For everyone I have loved, none have stayed or seen it through. There was my Nicki, my violinist, who I loved before I was what I am. Nicki, who begged so oppositely of what we begged for; to be like us. He wanted it so fiercely, but he hated me for it. That, or he always hated me in some way and my gift made it clear to him. You know how it is. I hope to your God that that isn’t true and Nicki was the person I remember before everything went amiss, the good, kind man who would debate with me for hours. Then, there was Gabrielle. I loved her deeply, completely, in the way only a son can love.”

“She—she was your mother?”

“At first, yes. Then she was just Gabrielle with hair like mine and a distinct impatience for my obsessions and constant questions. Opposite of us, really. You would have taken to her, her independence and strength. Truly, she is where Claudia gets her bravo.”

“You’re certain the bravo isn’t from you?” interrupts Louis, a gentle smile on his face. Claudia, as always, is an easy bridge between them. Lestat is ever grateful for Louis’ ability to read him, understand him more fully than anyone else can.

“I’m not brave,” admits Lestat. “I simply have a partiality to not following any rules. People mistake that for courage more often than not. I see something set in tradition or people who are comfortable at all and I ruin or destroy on sight.”

“That cannot be true. Despite my vanity and self-loathing, you have not ruined me. And you protected Claudia from a horrible fate.” This time, Louis does reach out and tuck a stray curl behind Lestat’s ear.

“No, my love, that was you that saved her. I used her, as I do with most things, to keep you with me, in my own true selfish fashion. Not that I haven’t adored her every second she is with us, or, I admit, wished for her presence long before you or she ever existed,” Lestat reveals, emotion heavy in his voice, but he leans into the hand by his face anyway, not willing to deny himself to comfort of Louis. “And how could anyone ever ruin you, Louis? You are stubborn and solid. I do not give even myself the credit to ruin you, try as I can.”

“Ruin me?” breathes Louis. “Lestat, never have I thought that you would be my ruin. My annoyance, yes, and my shadow, yes, but with those things comes everything good about you. Your light and your intense obsession with all the world has to offer. You see something a million times and it’s like you’ve never seen it before, each night bringing a different shade of starlight to paint your perspective. You have not ruined me, and you never will. You awaken me, you give me life, you make my ghost of a pulse beat faster. You save me.”

“My Louis,” sighs Lestat. He cannot keep the adoration out of his voice, the love clearly written in his face and in his voice. “There are times when I cannot help but feel as though I am keeping you here and I loathe myself for it. That doesn’t mean I consider letting you go, though. Am I your prison? Don’t answer, I do not wish to know other than the answers in my own head. I do wish for you to know, however, that the list of things that I would do for you is long and inexhaustible. My pride, my body, my soul, I would all put on the line for you and Claudia. Unfortunately, on that list, numbered fairly early on, is you escaping me. You are too feeling, too different from the rest of us to be kept by my side unwillingly. My company is not easy, nor has it ever been. Above all things, I am selfish to need you by my side, stuck with the knowledge that you can thrive without me, as you did for the first years of your life. If we have reached the time when you leave, with your new knowledge of our kind, limited as it is, then do so now before I think you are staying.” Lestat closes his eyes, like that will help him. Louis has such a presence, such an impact on Lestat; he is always known when he is near.

“Lestat, look at me.” There’s a finger under Lestat’s chin that forces his eyes to meet Louis’ warm eyes. “You are no prison to me. No, do not scoff, it is only the truth. There is no place I would rather be than here with you. Let me correct myself. There is no place I would rather be than with you. Your company, your existence beside me, is comfort more than anything. I would follow you anywhere. Anywhere. You are my home. You, Lestat, are the person I go to when I need to be reminded why I continue my life. When you are gone, I feel your absence almost as much as I feel your presence when you are with me. You are—you are overwhelming in the best way.”

Lestat can resist no longer. With uncoordinated movements, he launches himself into Louis’ waiting arms, wrapping himself around his lover. In true Louis fashion, he accepts the gesture without a word of mocking towards Lestat’s unbridled adoration and kisses the top of Lestat’s head.

“My love, I have waited all night for your embrace,” whispers Louis, a confession between just them.

“You must wait no longer. This and every night, my embraces are yours for the taking. I’m yours for the taking. Simply say the word. Any word, for you, my Louis, any word will do.”

“Lestat,” replies Louis simply, a glimmer in his eyes. Such danger in those eyes, such trouble. Lestat has never, not once, shied away from trouble.

“Good choice.” Let the trouble begin.

#loustat #louis de pointe du lac #lestat de lioncourt #lestat x louis #louis x lestat #the vampire lestat #the vampire chronicles #interview with the vampire #vampires #self indulgent fic #tvc #tvc lestat #tvc louis #lestat de lioncourt fic #tvc fic #tvc fanfic #tvc fanfiction #lestat fanfic

33 notes · View notes

maggicktouched · 1 year

Text

Diverging from talking about witches for a hot minute I wanna talk about Daniel and my portrayal of him.

It probably doesn't matter, because the fandom is small and largely inactive in writing and I appear to be mostly blacklisted from it, but it matters to me and a character I write and how I'll handle things as the show goes on (hopefully a long time).

I've seen a fan theory gain traction in the last few days that I don't like. It's cool if you like it, I don't like, think it's toxic or a bad thing to like, but it does bug me. The theory is, essentially, that Daniel's faulty memory is entirely constructed by Armand and I just wanna lay out what I dislike about this theory personally and why I won't engage with it.

One: It doesn't really make sense to me. Devil's Minion lasted around ten years in the book (I think), and I've always been a little on the fence about how I feel about that happening in the show canon. Ten years is a massive span of your life to forget. Even if someone plants ten years of memories (which sounds insane) into your head, you're still going to be lacking things like connections to other people, you're gonna say a lot of weird shit to people who know you that won't add up, and before you say "Armand thought of all that." I'm sorry no he didn't. Armand needed Daniel to teach him how to be more human. He cannot realistically fabricate a decade of life, relationships, achievements, etc without it very obviously being wrong in some ways. Idk maybe you believe that, and you're allowed to, but I think it's so out there that it is kinda laughable.

Two: When did we just all hop on board the "Armand has memory manipulation powers" ship? Anne Rice's vampires are extremely powerful and I guess that's fine, even if I do think things like them being able to think people to death or just instinctively know how to use technology for some unspecified reason is pretty stupid. But it's her lore, it's her rules. However I genuinely don't remember the books saying vampires can alter memories. They can read minds and control minds, they appear to be able to distort perception, but I don't recall memory manipulation being a part of it. And I guess it's fine to add that, but it's weird we've all just auto accepted it as a fandom and then to accept it can be used on such a scale. Ten years of your life.

I'm 31 and if you ask me about people I knew at 21 I would be able to give you pretty decent descriptions. I can tell you about conversations we had, things they liked, places we went together. I can do that for multiple people. I can do that with the type of car I drove. I can remember the places I liked to eat and why. I can tell you when I learned new skills. I can tell you the names of every child I worked with and every animal I met (and I lived in farm land---there were a lot of animals). Am I able to recall every moment? No. No one is. But there is so much that goes into a single memory, better yet hundreds from over the course of a decade. I'm down with Armand being powerful... but that feels like too much. I can't buy into it. Sorry.

Three: Most importantly, there is a single reason I think show Dan is better than book Dan and it's basically the only real difference between the core of the characters. And that's that show Daniel is a person whereas book Daniel really isn't.

Daniel in the books is only really ever there to enhance the story of whatever vampire he's with at the time. He's in the first book for the singular purpose of giving Louis someone to tell a story to. He's in QotD to tell us about Armand's character and, in my opinion, make Armand into a true main character in the cast and not just an ex lover for Louis. We don't really hear about Daniel's life before. He has some creepy visions, he does some alcoholism, he talks about what Armand has been up to, and he talks about how Armand makes him feel. Where's his mom? He's not an old guy. What about his dad? What led him to be a journalist? Where was he born? What does he really like? Because for the most part, aside from some bitching at Armand when Armand pushes the envelope, he is just about as fine with sleeping on a park bench as he is a lavish bed. Because only one thing matters to this Daniel: vampires. There is no real Daniel. There is a narrator. There is a normal dude who we can put ourselves into. Now granted I haven't read QotD in its entirety in years so maybe I'm forgetting things... but I doubt it.

Then he's just gone. He just doesn't matter anymore after QotD not until we get to Marius' book. And I honestly think he's only there in that book to show that Marius has someone to fuck.

I haven't read the newer books.

My point in all of this, what is really important to me about this version of Daniel, why I love him so much even though he doesn't look like the Daniel I imagined all those years reading the books, is that he's a person. He's got his own issues, and he's lived his own life. This Daniel is a whole person. And maybe we won't get to see as much of his life as other characters because he'll likely be pushed to the side in the future, but at least it is implied. At least we have some reason behind how he acts, some clue to how his world was shaped and the things he cares about.

To erase all that just to give Armand a power boost/ability he doesn't even have in the canon is a waste to me. I really hope the show doesn't go that way, and I don't plan on writing that way regardless. You're welcome to like the theory. You're welcome to enjoy it or to go "ha ha I knew it" in my face if it happens. I don't really care. But I won't be writing it because Daniel deserves to get to be more than some sad old man that Armand wants to fuck.

#Daniel Molloy;; write that down. WRITE THAT DOWN!#i'm also not putting this in the tags #because i do not want this to become “beef”#and I'm not gonna argue about something that is whole heartedly my preference #if people like the theory it's genuinely fine #i want zero drama to evolve from this

0 notes

sorenzi · 2 years

Text

VnC: What is Love? Grandpa de Sade and the relationships between teacher and student, the adult and the child

This is a really rough draft of the theory but I need to brain dump somewhere cause I have a an actual case study to finish writing. (An actual case study for my real life work not VnC.)

So this builds up on the theory that Teacher is Paracelsus. There are a few clues that state Teacher and Paracelsus are one in the same. The world formula is described to be twinkling stars like constellations as Noe visualizes them. In Noe’s childhood memory, Teacher told the history about the world formula, vampires and Babel to Noe.

In our perspective it is safe to say that Teacher is also very likely to withhold information as Ruthven hinted to Noe when he first visit Castle Carbunculus with Vanitas. There’s also a panel where Noe is called to the rooftop breakfast with Vanitas where he comments that the ability of tinkering with the world formula is amazing (something along the lines of that). Vanitas has a solemn look but changes the subject afterward. This is likely another hint that there is something about the Babel incident the audience, Noe, Domi and other vampires don’t know about. (Or at least the younger vampires don’t). Also is very likely that these are the memories about the Vampire/Babel origins that Vanitas can’t ever share with anyone.)

Teacher and Paracelsus is shown to to be connected to such stars when they are introduced in the story. Much like how Teacher has two stars on his cane, and such star decorations are within his mansion (like Domi and Louis’s childhood bedroom). These stars are also shown in the mysterious parts or shadows in Noe’s Volume 2 art where Teacher extends his hands These stars are somewhat similar to how the world formula is drawn in the novel.

So let’s assume the theory that Teacher = Paracelsus is correct. We know Paracelsus researched the world formula with the ideal that there would be potential to eradicate all diseases in humankind, perhaps creating the ideal world that would become a paradise that ceases the suffering he saw in the late 15th century.

Instead Paracelsus and his colleagues created the largest calamity that brought out strange materials and beings that weren’t there before, which we know to be Astermite, Vampires and the bio-luminous flowers that grow where the world formula had been tinkered with. I can only imagine what the reaction would have been with Paracelsus waking up as a vampire himself (if he is alive and turned out to be The Teacher.)

If Teacher was turned into a vampire then and there, isn’t he also one of the first vampires then? Faustina is the considered the First Vampire of the Red Moon. It makes sense why he’d be around to serve her before he left to do whatever he’s doing now. But this creates three questions:

What was his relationship to Faustina before they both became vampires?

Why is Teacher so interested in the Blue Moon Vampire/Book of Vanitas?

Why does Faustina look just like Luna?

Mochijun uses every opportunity to foreshadow parallels in her work whether that be events, relationship or intentions of her characters. My guess, is that Faustina is Grandpa de Sade’s biological child or student when they were human. I suspect Teacher is trying to revive Faustina (if she’s even dead or whatever at this point) just like how Chloe and her father had all those centuries ago. The research is not successful and Chloe has come to terms of her identity as a vampire and her desire to be loved as she is. At the end of the day, awakening as a vampire when she was 4 years old was out of her control, there wasn’t much she could do since the rest of the research team has died at her castle and it was only her and Jean-Jaquces.

But Teacher is different. He has the academic background to do the research, caused and witnessed Babel happening as an adult. While he plays the observer role, he lets the other vampires do the work and is seeing if he has some control or ability to change the results. He may be trying to revert Faustina to her human form.

This would make sense why Teacher chooses to be a mysterious character if whatever he’s plotting he doesn’t want anyone to stop him or muck with his plans. Ruthven believes Teacher’s intentions aren’t clear but it may very well be the same, just of different purposes. Perhaps the other vampires are unaware of Teacher and Faustina’s relation, (since she’s been ‘dead’ for a while). This would make sense why he put his adopted family and grandchildren into his previous position of power to retain an eye on the power play happening within the Senate and matters to Faustina as he does his distant observations.

For the other two questions, on why Teacher is interested in the Book of Vanitas, and why Faustina and Luna look the same, there are two possibilities that occur here:

Faustina and Luna are twins, therefore, Luna will also be a child of Teacher’s.

Luna is the remains of Faustina’s consciousness or will. (If they are the same person.)

Veronica has introduce the concept of twins in vampire lore to be a symbolism of misfortune. This is a recurring theme in Jun’s work, where those representing misfortune are shunned by society. (Like Lacie, Break and Vincent in Pandora Hearts.) In the case of VnC, it is Louis and Dominique. Since few vampires know of Louis’s existence, they were told that Louis was a year older than Domi, and therefore the knowledge of their twin status is unknown. Domi could still have a normal life in public and the de Sades wouldn’t have their name dragged into the mud.

So, if Faustina and Luna are twins, why did Luna not have a name previously to meeting human Vanitas and Misha? Who gave them the name Vanitas?

Faustina’s name is a latin word meaning ‘fortune’, which is ironic to concept of misfortune here. The blue moon is also a symbol of misfortune here. My guess is that Faustina is actually her true vampire name, and her human name is something else.

Faustina could have likely forgotten what happened during Babel, but Luna is likely to remember the true origins. Since we see Luna not to be the menacing character history made them out to be, I believe Luna had a disagreement with the other older vampires, Faustina and maybe Teacher about how to manage a society with normal humans and enhanced humans (vampires) and left. The rest of vampire society ‘casted’ out Luna, and they’ve had a reason to create the Book of Vanitas. Not quite sure about the moon colours here, but Luna turned out to be a different sort of vampire than the other ones and may have to deal with other abnormalities in their vampire awakening. Somewhere along the way lost their concept of humanity they were born with (or memories of it) and which is why they don’t ‘have’ a name or abandoned it after losing sense of humanity, so they’ve accepted the name ‘Vanitas’, which is likely to echo the empty feeling of lost humanity or character from the inside.

The red moon vampires are likely to feel fortunate due to the powers they possess and expanded lifespan, but Luna must have felt differently about it. The name Vanitas becomes much more meaningful here if they’ve felt totally empty with personal lost of identity and connection to others. (Even more so when they advise a young human Vanitas about how ‘everyone is alone in this world, but one day, even you, who’s forever cold, will find someone to keep you warm.)

The alternate theory is that Luna is Faustina’s human consciousness separated from her physical body. Luna maybe a manifestation that has become another otherworldly being before breaking down, but this is quite a stretch from the theory that Faustina and Luna are likely to be twins.

What is Love?

This was definitely something that Teacher did not teach Noe, but Noe is more than capable of being curious about asking and learning on his own. This begs the question, what would Teacher think the concept of love here then? If Faustina/Luna are children or precious students of Teacher, perhaps Teacher’s goal of bringing ‘Luna’ back to life or turn Faustina back to human are his own actions of love because Babel happened because of him and it turn both of the twins into vampires. Perhaps his desire to reverse the vampires into human is a form of salvation he wishes to grant them as a way to redeem himself for two kids who looked up to him.

But Noe, who is the student to Grandpa de Sade’s teacher role, may switch it up. Because Noe is witnessing acts of love and salvation at the will of others right now. Since he is young, he and Vanitas aren’t so sure what these two mean (you can read a little more about it on my Vanitas/Noe Birth flower post linked on my blog). So if Teacher doesn’t teach him, he can tell or teach his teacher on his observations. This can serve as a turning point in the story too.

I think Teacher also told Noe to seek out the Book of Vanitas in the beginning was to understand why human Vanitas was going around to stop curse bearers and how it relates to Luna’s ‘death’. If Teacher wanted both Faustina and Luna alive, he needed to see what Human Vanitas was doing and had to stop him. Judging from Memoire 54 part 2, it looks like he stopped Misha and their fight because he saw Noe protecting Vanitas and his granddaughter protecting Vanitas too. Both of children that he’s cared for are resisting his current experiment and he’d like to know why.

And if Faustina forgot everything, but Luna didn’t, having Noe around to access those mémoires would be helpful for teacher if there is info that must be accessed. unfortunately, Vanitas won’t let anyone take them from him and Noe doesn’t like to intrude either.

Anyways that is all. I’ll delve a little more into this theory later.

#vanitas no carte #les memoires de vanitas #vnc vanitas #vanitas #the case study of vanitas #vnc theory #vnc spoilers #teacher #vnc teacher #noe archiviste #soren rambles #ramble post #daily ramble

88 notes · View notes

kpopfanfictrash · 4 years

Text

Raise the Barre (Ch. 2)

Author: kpopfanfictrash

Pairing: Jimin / Reader

Rating: 18+ (Eventual Smut)

Genre: Enemies to Lovers / Dance Academy!AU

Word Count: 6,436

Summary: You and Park Jimin have been rivals for as long as you’ve known one another; ever since he tripped you in the front row of your first dance convention. When you graduate from high school and enter Russet Ballet Academy, you tell yourself you’re leaving all past quarrels behind. The main problem with this though, is that your past seems determined not to leave you alone.

Worse still, the obstacles you face while out in the real world might prove more challenging than anything your enemy has to offer.

After the initial shock of your partner wore off, you decided spending the semester partnered with Park Jimin was, indeed, the dark sentence it appeared to be at first glance.

Jimin wasn’t happy with the situation either; that much became clear when Mr. Vlad said your name and Jimin instantly stiffened. You’d turned slowly to face him, your mind going fuzzy as you met his blank gaze.

The first two weeks of the semester had been spent wondering if this was some kind of cruel, cosmic joke. Maybe you’d been a terrible person in a past life and this was your bitter reward. If so, Jimin must have pissed someone off too, since he seemed equally perturbed by your new relationship.

Waiting in line at the water fountain, you checked the time once again and exhaled. Ballet began in five minutes and Miss Britt employed the same lateness tolerance policy as Mr. Vlad. Really, it was a blanket expectation by all the teachers at Russet. If you arrived after the door shut, you weren’t allowed in – and god forbid you missed a step the next week during barre. Motivated to avoid this, you’d arrived fifteen minutes early every day since classes started – it was hardest for 8:00 AM ballet, but that couldn’t be helped.

Once your water bottle was full, you screwed on the cap and hustled into the room with three minutes to spare. Miss Britt stood at the front beside the live pianist. She insisted on using one for all her classes, saying it was good practice for when you’d dance with an orchestra.

Arms crossed, she surveyed each student when they entered, and you hastened to stand beside Noelle at the bar. Placing your water bottle on the floor, you began to roll your neck and warm up your feet.

From across the room, you heard Jimin laugh and looked up on reflex – only to find him standing next to Sabrina.

Uncertain, you froze. You hadn’t made it a habit to follow Jimin’s movements, or even to learn more about him since your arrival at Russet. You saw him in class and occasionally on the weekends but had made it a point to keep your friend groups separate. As a result, you really had no idea what Jimin had been up to in his private time.

It seemed the answer to your question was: cozying up to the enemy. Since that first night in Grace Hall, Sabrina had proven herself to be as unpleasant as you’d feared. You’d mostly tried to steer clear of her path, but again, this was hard to achieve in a class of eighty students.

While you watched, Jimin laughed again and Sabrina smiled. She looked almost pleasant and in response to this, your eyes narrowed.

Objectively, you didn’t want Jimin as your dance partner, but he’d been assigned to you. It’d be incredibly embarrassing if he asked to switch midway through the semester. Everyone would know it was because of you and you’d have no other options when the New Year rolled around.

Faculty clarified the partner situation by the end of the first week. Apparently, only your first ballet partner at Russet was assigned. This was done on purpose, in order to get you used to working with new people, but you’d be allowed to choose your own partner starting January 1st. This was the only reason you hadn’t immediately marched to the front office and demanded a change. Clearly, this was a test of partnership. Jimin might be the devil himself, but he hadn’t asked to switch partners and you’d be damned if you gave in before he did.

On the opposite side of the room, Jimin smiled and you scowled, wondering what Sabrina could possibly have to say that he found so hilarious. In the two weeks you’d known her, Sabrina had yet to utter a joke in your presence. Suspicion clouded your judgement, since it was no secret amongst the class that Sabrina’s ballet partner wasn’t as talented as she was.

The idea that she might be after Jimin entered your mind while you watched. While you didn’t want to be Jimin’s partner, you also didn’t want Sabrina to be Jimin’s partner.

You were shaken from this thought by Miss Britt clapping her hands.

“Pliés, ladies and gentlemen!”

Miss Britt led ballet class on Tuesdays; right now, she stood at the front of the room while she waited for everyone to echo her movements.

“From first,” she said, adopting the same position. “Little breath on the intro, and – demi plié one, two. Demi plié three, up four. Grand plié five, port de bras six –up seven, eight. Rise to relevé on two! Hold three, four. Grand plié five, up six, tendu to second. Repeat!”

You followed her with half-movements, attempting to mimic her delicate port de bras. The grand plié was fast, which was tricky – you’d need to control your center as you rose from the ground.

“Start on the right,” said Miss Britt, turning around. “Skip third. I want to see you sweating by the end, everyone! Pliés should be as much effort as battements! If I don’t see sweat, we’ll do center barre again next week.”

A ripple of panic went through the class.

Center barre was a time-honored ballet tradition, loathed by all. It involved doing warm-ups in the center of the room instead of at the barre. This required additional strength and concentration; enough to cripple even the most stoic of ballerinas.

As the pianist started, the entire class inhaled and fell into motion. Hips square, core engaged, heels down, head tilted up and to the side. You let each breath you took flow through your body, mirroring the stance Miss Britt had shown.

True to her demand, your muscles were already warm by the end of the first side. Miss Britt made her rounds at the edge of the classroom, stopping occasionally to dole out corrections.

“Your back is arched, Irene!” she called. “There, that’s better. Louis, move through the motion. Save your ballistic stretching for jazz class. Good, good.”

“She’s coming,” Noelle whispered beneath her breath.

Hiding a smile, you ducked your head. Miss Britt was close – you could see her in the corner of your eye as she turned the corner, heading down your row with an eagle’s eye.

Dropping into the final plié, you struggled to keep your hips square while you rose from the ground. Miss Britt stopped alongside you, examining you for a moment before she began to walk forward.

“Heels forward,” she said, correcting your stance. “Imagine everything rotates from the hips. Push down through the ground and out! All motion is powered by the glutes. Yes… better,” she said, begrudgingly moving on.

A bead of sweat rolled down your neck and dropped into your leotard. You knew her praise hadn’t been as genuine for you as it had been for others. Noelle glanced your way from the corner of her eye, but you continued to stare straight ahead. Miss Britt was nearby, and you didn’t want to give her another reason to scold.

As the music came to a close, Miss Britt stopped at the front and began the tendu combination. You were soaked with sweat before rond de jambes ended, only the massive amounts of hair spray and gel you had used holding your bun in place.

Barre lasted over an hour, which was longer than usual. As you and Noelle dragged your barre to the side at the end, you felt your grip slipping on the silvery metal. Trying to stay hydrated, you drank half your water bottle on the side of the room.

The water break didn’t last long – soon you were gathered in the center of the room for adagio. Miss Britt was the kind of teacher who used both hands and feet to relay the combination. You stood on the sidelines and watched; a bit dizzy from how much you’d sweated already. More water before class would’ve been a good thing.

The one positive about the adagio was it was a solo, not a pas de deux. You had ballet partnering classes throughout the week, of course, but oftentimes your normal ballet teachers assigned partner work as well.

This was why Jimin stood beside you, hovering nearby in case he was needed.

Casting a withering glance at him in the mirror, you assumed fifth position and firmly squared your shoulders. Behind you and to the left, Jimin rolled his eyes.

Jaw clenched, you decided to ignore him.

Sabrina stood on the opposite side of the room, paired with Paulo Goncalves, a talented ballet dancer – just not as talented as she was. Before you could look away, she turned her head in your direction. You winced, ready to move but then realized she wasn’t looking at you.

She stared at Jimin. Sabrina looked at him in much the same way mothers examined produce in the grocery store, taking in every angle to determine if it was valuable.

You stiffened when you saw this, unsure what to do. Sabrina’s gaze moved to you before you could blink and when she saw you, she smiled.

It wasn’t a nice gesture.

This was disarming enough that when the music began, your mind went completely blank. The rest of the class started, raising their arms overhead and you could only stare, lips parting in horror. All steps of the combination had flown from your mind.

“Développé devant,” Jimin whispered behind you.

Instantly, the steps returned to your memory. Snapping to attention, you raised both arms overhead. As you caught up to the class, you extended your right leg in the air.

Miss Britt turned in your direction, luckily not noticing your momentary confusion and when she moved on to Brian, you exhaled in relief. As the combination continued, a question mark formed in your mind, and you chanced a subtle glance sideways at Jimin.

A vague sense of confusion settled over you. Jimin had helped you, which seemed extremely out of character for a demon from the depths of Hades.

When you glanced his way though, Jimin didn’t seem to notice anything was off. He looked almost peaceful as he moved through the combination, executing the steps with perfect timing. The sight of this made your blood boil, since the combination was difficult, and he had the audacity to make it look so fucking easy.

Each line of his body radiated grace and control; he truly was remarkable, it made you nauseous to watch. The lightest twitch of his pinky was purposeful, his body held perfectly still as he stepped into arabesque.

You lost sight of him when you penchéd, catching Jimin again in the mirror when you rose. Logically, you knew he was also working hard, but it didn’t show at all. You, on the other hand, were working and looked like you were.

When the combination ended, Jimin breathed easily, barely winded, while you felt as though you’d just run a marathon.

“Y/N!”

Head whipping up, you met Miss Britt’s gaze at the front of the room. For a moment, you panicked and wondered if she’d seen your lapse after all. If there was one thing not tolerated at Russet, it was failing to pay attention.

She looked at you for a moment, as though searching for what to say and then simply said, “Square your hips in arabesque.”

You sagged slightly in relief. “I will,” you promised, but she’d already moved on.

“Irene, less port de bras. Any more flapping and you’ll fly away. Paulo – you’re lagging on your transitions. Stay on the beat. Now,” she said, turning around. “Find your partner. The next adagio is paired.”

Jimin walked forward and came to a stop beside you. You stiffened at his proximity, uncertain what to say.

He’d helped you – Park Jimin had helped and you couldn’t fathom why. For the entirety of your teenage years, Jimin had been your worst enemy; it only stood to reason the trend would continue at Russet. When he glanced at you in the mirror, you found the silence unbearable.

“Thanks,” you said at last.

Jimin turned to face you, surprised. “What for?”

Rolling your eyes, you turned to face him as well. “You know what.”

“I do.” Maddeningly, he smiled. “But I want to hear you say it.”

“Well,” you said through gritted teeth. “We all have things we want but can’t have.”

Jimin was about to respond when you noticed Miss Britt starting the combination at the front. She had one of the students from senior class helping, an incredibly talented dancer named Seokjin. Seokjin was ridiculously beautiful and equally shy. This didn’t stop half the freshman class – girls and boys – from harboring a fat crush on him.

Holding out his palm, Jimin waited until you placed your hand in his. Pulling you close, his other hand went to your waist while Miss Britt began the combination.

“Start in fifth,” she said with Seokjin behind her. “Ladies – relevé one! Hold two. Both plié three, up four. Ladies – right leg to passé and extend seven, eight. Relevé one! Hold two, hold three, four. Bring leg to attitude efface – seven, eight.”

Already, you found yourself sweating and you were only marking the steps. So far, the adagio placed heavy emphasis on the female partner, with the male only offering support. This was frustrating, since male partnering was difficult, but in a different way than for women. Men needed exceptional strength and balance to support their partner, but oftentimes it was the woman executing the more technical steps.

After front attitude, you extended your leg, pliéd and Jimin lifted you up. This required great coordination and timing – both his hands on your waist, he hoisted you into the air. Miss Britt stopped the music at this point to give you a minute to practice.

Not that this helped. While in high school, you’d done minimal partner dancing. Your studio hadn’t had any male dancers in your level; the partnering you had done was mostly female, which was a different expectation than traditional ballet.

The lift was hard and even two weeks into classes, you and Jimin still hadn’t mastered it. You kept smacking Jimin’s chin with your head when you leapt from the ground. This time was no exception – you heard the crack when it happened, a sharp pain radiating from the base of your skull. Jimin swiftly let go, dropping you on your feet.

“Ouch!” he yelped, stumbling backwards.

“Sorry!” you said, whirling around. “Are you alright?”

Jimin rubbed his jaw. “Yeah,” he grumbled. “I’m fine. Let’s just… try it again.”

You nodded and maneuvered dutifully into position, his hands returning to the same spot on your waist. After a deep inhale, you pliéd and jumped – and Jimin immediately dropped you, your feet hitting the floor.

“What was that?” you demanded as you spun around.

Jimin’s eyes widened. “Why are you asking me? You’re the one whose weight was pitched forward!”

“It was not!” Despite this, you frowned. It was possible Jimin was correct on this one. “Let’s just… do it again.”

Jaw clenched, Jimin returned to position and you tried it again. This time was passable; no one smacked anyone’s chin when they jumped and you landed on the right count, but it still felt somehow off. You were working too hard; when you glanced at Noelle and her partner, Eamon, their lift looked so effortless. Such mastery escaped you, slipping through your grasp no matter how often you practiced.

At the next water break, you immediately left Jimin’s side. Going as far away from him as you could, you drank eagerly from your bottle and relished in the silence.

Someone coughed from behind you.

Turning around, your expression instantly soured when you found Sabrina inches away. She had nary a hair out of place and for a moment, you wondered what’d happen if you messed up her bun. You got the feeling Sabrina was used to being in control.

Before you could speak, she took a small sip of water. Her gaze searched the room and landed on Jimin, who was saying something to Seokjin with a laugh.

“He’s talented,” she remarked.

Ignoring this, you drank from your own water bottle. “If you say so.”

Her gaze returned to yours, lips curled in a smile. “I do say so. You know it’s true, too. Jimin is talented, which makes me think you’re the reason you two can’t get that lift.”

Stiffening somewhat, you slowly bent to place your water bottle down on the floor. As you rose, you took a step forward and lifted your chin.

“Why don’t you mind your own business?” you told her.

Sabrina’s lip twitched. “Oh. Touchy.”

“You should leave. Isn’t your partner looking for you?”

“Hm, not sure. He might not be my partner for long.”

Unthinkingly, you stiffened. “What do you mean by that?”

“Exactly what I said.” Sabrina examined the nails on one hand. “It’s a pity Jimin has to be partnered with you when he could have the best dancer in the class. I plan on letting him know I’m available, if he ever wants to switch.”

“Are you seriously–”

“Miss Y/L/N!”

Both of you shut up, your heads snapping sideways and Sabrina immediately took a step backwards. Miss Britt stood before you, but how long she’d been there, you didn’t know. Desperately, you hoped she hadn’t heard the entire conversation.

Sabrina immediately turned away; Miss Britt let her go, which didn’t bode well for you. You’d been holding out hope this had something to do with your conversation, but this didn’t seem to be the case. Miss Britt watched Sabrina leave before she turned to you.

“I’d like to speak after class, if that’s alright,” she said, her voice low.

She didn’t sound angry, which made it even worse. Anger was a fickle emotion; it came easily and left easily. The calmness was worse, since it sounded like Miss Britt had something serious to say.

“Sure,” you said, managing to nod. “I’ll stay.”

She nodded and turned away, walking to the front while you stared at her back. After a moment, you shook yourself free and moved towards the center. A dull roar pounded your thoughts. Thousands of worries pressed from every side, each one more worrisome and insistent than the last.

This was it – you were finished. Russet was kicking you out. Somehow, you’d been sent an acceptance letter in the mail, but it was a mistake and you were being sent home.

When you returned to the center, you dully stood by Jimin’s side. He glanced at you curiously, sensing something was wrong.

“Are you –”

“Let’s just dance,” you said, moving to fifth position.

Jimin wisely let it go, stepping behind you to place his hands on your waist. The pianist began to play and you started the combination but the entire time you danced, your mind was somewhere else. You couldn’t help but think about what Miss Britt might have to say, each possibility you considered being worse than the last.

Things went smoothly for the rest of the class, but you couldn’t shake the feeling that something was off. Everyone else picked up on steps easier than you did; Sabrina was right about that. Jimin was a talented dancer and he had experience with partnering.

He wasn’t the problem here – you were.

Jimin was quiet for the duration of class, which was unusual. You wondered if he was annoyed by your incompetence and again, your mind flashed to Sabrina’s words. She wanted Jimin as her partner. This made you feel a bit desperate because as much as you didn’t like Jimin, it would be humiliating for him to switch on you mid-semester.

If you were in Jimin’s shoes though, you would consider it. Sabrina had flawless technique, was beloved by the teachers and would only help his star to rise. They also seemed to get along well together, unlike you and Jimin, who were constantly at odds.

Realizing this, your stomach sank. Yes – if you were Jimin, you would consider switching partners.

When the hour hand on the clock finally met the twelve, you hastily gave your applause and bolted towards your dance bag. You lingered here, waiting for class to clear out, but you couldn’t stand being next to Jimin for one second longer. Thanking him had been humiliating enough for one day.

In the corner of your eye, you saw Jimin hesitate before he walked out. The rest of the class began to pack up, chatting with one another while they left the classroom. Miss Britt stood at the front with the accompanist, likely going over music for the next class.

Noelle also paused before leaving, but you told her to go and said you’d catch up with them later. You waited until most of the class had left and then you took a deep breath and walked to the front.

“Miss Britt?” you said, coming to a stop.

She faced you with a smile. “Ah, Y/N! Good, good. Let’s talk. You can go,” she said, dismissing the pianist.

Once she had left the room, Miss Britt again turned to you.

Your stomach twisted in knots. Now that you stood here, the worst kinds of scenarios ran through your mind. Miss Britt would kick you out of Russet; you would have to enroll in second semester at a local college. You’d have to return to your hometown with your tail tucked between your legs and all your dreams of a dance career would be ruined.

“I’m so sorry,” you blurted before she could speak. “I didn’t mean to argue with Sabrina in the middle of class like that. It was unprofessional and I promise it won’t happen again.”

Miss Britt blinked. “Well, that’s good,” she said slowly. “But that wasn’t what I wanted to talk to you about.”

“It… wasn’t?”

A small part of you had been holding out hope that this was it. That you would get a mild talking-to and be on your way soon.

Miss Britt was known as a strict, but fair teacher. When she wasn’t yelling corrections at students across the floor, she came across as laid-back. There was a reason Mr. Vlad was the terror of freshman students and not her. Although Miss Britt was demanding, she tended to offer dancers advice as opposed to cutting them off right away.

“Talking in class is one thing,” she said with a stern look. “I don’t need to tell you how prestigious this institution is. I’m sure other teachers have emphasized that point enough. You’re only throwing away your own time and money by not taking this seriously.”

Your stomach sank, since you did take this seriously and hated the idea that Miss Britt might think you didn’t. It didn’t seem like the right time to interrupt though, so you let her finish.

“More than that,” she said. “I wanted to talk to you about your progress.”

“My… progress?”

“I understand you were a competitive studio dancer before this, Y/N?”

Warily, you nodded. “I was.”

“I thought so.” Gently, she smiled. “I remember your audition tape – impressive, I must say. Your solo was exquisite, and your performance quality was one of the best I’ve ever seen.”

Hearing this, your heart began to swell with pride. Perhaps this wasn’t the terrible conversation you’d been expecting after all.

“But your ballet technique is behind the other students.”

Like a balloon popped, your chest swiftly deflated.

Miss Britt continued. “I see this often in competitive dancers, even if you did ballet in addition to other styles. People who trained as ballerinas before Russet usually have a more solid grasp of the fundamentals. People like Sabrina.”

“Ah,” you said, careful to keep your voice neutral.

“I know Miss Ernst isn’t always the easiest person to get along with,” Miss Britt said. “But she trained at our prep school before she entered the Academy. It might be helpful for you to ask her for some pointers.”

“Right.”

“Or even your partner, Jimin,” she offered, noticing your hesitance. “He’s a studio dancer too, but he trained more extensively in ballet. I don’t know if you know this, but he won the Grand Prix two years ago.”

The Grand Prix was a national ballet competition – no, not a ballet competition. It was the ballet competition. You knew that Jimin had competed and won the Classical Ballet solo category. You hadn’t paid much attention to it at the time, since you hadn’t been there, but Jimin’s smugness the month after remained burned in your mind.

“I may have heard something about that,” you said at last.

“Or someone outside of those two.” Miss Britt gave you a small smile. “I do offer solo sessions, but I’m unfortunately all booked for the semester.”

“That’s alright,” you said faintly. “I appreciate the offer.”

“Of course.” After a moment, her gaze became scrutinizing. “I don’t want you to feel discouraged by this, Y/N. This isn’t the first time I’ve had to have this conversation with a freshman, and it won’t be the last.”

You nodded and hesitated. She may have intended her speech to be comforting, but you couldn’t stop the vague sense of panic which spread through your limbs. The next words out of your mouth left before you could stop them.

“But how many of those students were given an offer to the Company?”

Miss Britt paused, and you glumly realized the truth. Not many.

The Company was what this was all about, of course. Russet Ballet Company was known not only for impeccable traditional ballet, but for their recent expansion into jazz and contemporary. Only fifteen offers to the Company were given to the graduating seniors at the end of four years.

Heart sinking, you realized this meant you were at the bottom. Perhaps not in every dance style; as Miss Britt had noted, your performance quality was exceptional and you were a strong contemporary dancer, but freshman year focused on ballet.

If you couldn’t last the first year at Russet, there wouldn’t be any opportunities later for you to prove yourself.

“Alright,” you whispered. “Thank you.”

Miss Britt straightened. “Find someone to train with,” she said. “Ask your classmates for help. I wouldn’t have this conversation if I didn’t believe you could do it, Y/N.”

“Thank you,” you said, trying hard not to cry.

Seeming to realize you had enough to consider, Miss Britt nodded and stepped back to rearrange her sheet music.

“I’ll see you in class next week, then,” she said with a note of finality.

Sensing the conversation was over, you nodded and turned to walk across the room. Fingers tightening on the straps of your bag, you stared straight ahead and focused on something else. Something – anything but the terrifying idea of your dreams crumbling around you.

Coming to a stop at the water fountain again, you filled up your bottle and focused on breathing. Most of your sweat had dried, loose strands of hair sticking to the back of your neck. You screwed the cap on your water bottle, shoving this in your bag to head towards the stairs.

You were so lost in thought, you didn’t hear the sound of your name being called until you’d nearly reached the end of the hall.

“Y/N – wait!”

Stopping short, you paused to glance over your shoulder. To your surprise, Jimin was hurrying towards you down the length of the hall. He was dressed in black sweats and a jacket, his hair still slightly mussed from the class you’d just left.

Coming to a stop before you, Jimin cracked a smile. “Damn, Y/N. You walk fast.”

“What do you want, Jimin?”

His smile disappeared. Straightening, Jimin’s fingers played absently with the strings of his hoodie. Some of his usual haughtiness reentered his gaze.

“Why do you always assume I want something?”

“Because I know you,” you said. “That’s how we work. You say something asshole-ish, I respond with something rude and we both move on. So, come on. Out with it.”

Jimin’s eyes widened. “I – wow, Y/N.”

You waited a beat.

“Was that it?” Dully, you arched a brow. “Not your best insult, Park. Anyways, if that’s all you have to say, I have to go.”

“What is your problem?” Jimin said, wonderingly when you turned to leave.

Halting your step mid-stride, you stared at the wall for a moment before you turned around. Stalking towards him, a part of you knew that deep down Jimin didn’t deserve this, but it’d been such a long day and you were just so tired. The suggestion to ask Jimin for help was the final straw.

“My problem?” you said, coming to a stop before him. “My problem is having you for a partner.”

Jimin’s eyes narrowed. “Hey. It’s not my fault you messed up in class today, Y/N.”

“Of course not,” you snapped. “It’s never your fault. Perfect Jimin, beloved by every teacher and student.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“You know what it means!” Realizing how loud you were being, you lowered your voice. “You’re a guy, Jimin. It’s easier for you.”

His jaw dropped a little. “Are you… are you being serious, Y/N?”

“Oh, come on,” you said, giving a bitter laugh. “Are you honestly going to say you’ve never noticed? It’s easier for guy dancers. All the teachers love you because you’re a novelty. You can do the exact same thing as a girl dancer, but everyone looks at you because oo, a boy! Even your fucking center of gravity is higher than women! You have an advantage in dance, and it sucks.”

Jimin’s face had gone slightly sallow while you spoke.

“Some advantage,” he sputtered. “I never felt advantaged when I was strapping myself into a dancer’s belt before class.”

“Oh, how sad. Your penis is uncomfortable.”

“I – let’s stop talking about my dick,” Jimin muttered, his cheeks turning red. “There’s an equal number of girls here as guys, Y/N. I’m not any sort of novelty compared to you, so why don’t you let the past go? Who cares who won between us during high school?”

“Let the past go?” you repeated. “That’s a lot coming from you. You’re the one who suggested our bet in the first place.”

“Whoa, hey.” Jimin frowned. “You’re the one bringing that up now, not me.”

“I’m just bringing it up to prove a point.”

“Yeah, well, it’s not like I even tried to collect on my winnings.”

Still facing him, you scowled. “You didn’t win.”

“Technically,” Jimin said, holding up a finger. “We said the first person to get three trophies. I got three.”

“Three trophies at competitions we both competed in,” you shot back. “I didn’t compete in the last one, so you didn’t win!”

“A technicality.”

“See!” you said, in clear disbelief. “You’re still harping on this and then you turn around and tell me to ‘let the past go.’”

Jimin’s smile disappeared. “Listen, Y/N. If I had an advantage in high school, it’s gone now. There’s an equal number of girls as guys here at Russet and I’m working just as hard as you.”

“Wrong,” you said. “I have to work twice as hard to get the same result.”

“That’s just not true!”

“It is! That’s the only reason you won against me as often as you did in high school.”

“Hey,” Jimin snapped, finally sounding annoyed. “Fuck, Y/N – are you being serious right now?”

“I don’t know,” you exhaled, tearing your gaze away.

Taking a deep breath, you stared at the staircase and willed yourself not to cry. The two of you were being so loud, you seriously hoped Miss Britt hadn’t heard. It would be just your luck to get in a fight with both Jimin and Sabrina on the same day.

Everything hurt. The words from Sabrina and Miss Britt continued to run through your mind and the last thing you wanted was for Park Jimin to see you cry.

“I just – have to go, Jimin,” you managed to say. “I’ll see you later.”

Pushing past him, you avoided eye contact and left him standing alone at the top of the stairs. Jimin didn’t respond, but you heard his ragged exhale behind you as you left.

Shoving open the door to outside, you pulled a sweater from your bag and wrapped this around you. Blinking in the sunlight, you took another deep breath and began to walk down the street.

Jimin wasn’t the main reason you wanted to cry, though he was a part of it. Years of tension, resentment and competition had finally led you to explode – but beneath that, there ran a current of confusion.

Jimin had been waiting for you out in the hall.

Every explanation to this that you thought of sounded ridiculous, since Jimin hadn’t seemed mad or angry when he’d first called your name. An inkling of regret swirled through you and, somewhat uncomfortably, you wondered if you’d misjudged him.

Maybe you really were the only one holding onto this dumb rivalry. It’s just that Park Jimin could be so infuriating without even trying.

He had to know men had the advantage in dance – they always did. It was obvious each time you turned on the TV and watched any dance reality show. Women needed twice the stage presence, athleticism and musicality just to get on the same stage as a guy who taught himself to pop and lock in his basement.

It was even more infuriating because objectively, Jimin was better than you and – rationally – you knew you should ask him for help. This was the logical thing to do, but you couldn’t bring yourself to dismiss your pride. Asking Jimin for help would be like admitting he was better and you absolutely refused to inflate his ego.

A few steps from Grace Hall, your phone dinged in your pocket and when you pulled it out, you saw Finn’s name on the screen. Rather than be elated by this, your heart sank a little. You two had made tentative plans to hang out but right now, the idea of seeing other people made you a bit nauseous.

Finn: hey, babe! Want to grab dinner tonight? My roommate is crashing at his family’s house this weekend, so we’d have the place to ourselves ;) [11:22 AM]

Your thumb hovered over the keys for a moment, wanting to say yes but Miss Britt’s words from earlier lingered in your mind. You were behind your fellow classmates. You needed a teacher, you needed a tutor and at the very least, you needed more practice.

Slowly, you typed out a response.

Y/N: Last minute practice was scheduled for tonight ☹ rain check for tomorrow? [11:23 AM]

Finn responded fast, somewhat disappointed but agreeing to your abrupt change of plans. You didn’t respond, shoving your phone in your bag to walk up the steps of your dorm.

You had lied to Finn. There wasn’t practice tonight, but you knew he wouldn’t agree with your assessment of the situation. Finn didn’t understand your world of dance, which wasn’t his fault. It also wasn’t his fault that his girlfriend had chosen such an intense career path which left little free time. Finn was a normal college student and understandably, he wanted to spend time with his girlfriend.

Once in your dorm room, you tossed your bag on the floor and slowly exhaled. Noelle wasn’t there, so you stood in the center and tightly closed your eyes. You allowed the silence wash over you, taking several deep breaths and when you finally opened your eyes, you felt a bit calmer.

The day consisted of lunch and two more classes – variations and pointe – but at the end of it all, you returned to your room and changed from your clothes. Tugging sweats and a t-shirt on over your body, you placed your leotard in your laundry and left the room.

Danley Hall was a short walk away; you’d heard from upperclassman that studio space was available on a first come, first serve basis. It got crowded at the end of the semester, when people were practicing for showcases, but it was fairly empty when you arrived at 7:30 PM.

Climbing the steps to the fourth floor, you let yourself into the first empty room you found. Setting your bag on the ground, you waited a moment before facing the mirrors.

The practice room smelled like wood, rosin and whatever cleaner they used on the glass. Outside the room the sun had begun to set, casting misshapen shadows over the floor. Plugging your phone into the speakers, you stepped from your shoes and slowly walked to the center.

As the first notes of music left the speakers, you closed your eyes and inhaled. For the first time all day, some of the tension drained from your body.

With wood beneath your feet, dust motes in the air and a familiar song on the stereo, you finally felt at home. Stretching both arms overhead, you rose on your toes and hung there a moment. When the music changed, you dropped to a lunge and let yourself be pulled by the music, your body one step ahead of your thinking.

Miss Britt was right; you weren’t a ballerina. You had no idea if you ever would be, but this was something known, this was something you were good at and something you loved. This was a moment where you came alive.

The longer you danced, the more frustrated your movement became. So much emotions swirled beneath the surface, frustration chasing each step as you danced across the floor. You tried to stay ahead of it, tried to dance beyond its reach but the emotions caught up in the end, dragging you down and swallowing you whole.

When the song ended, you found yourself breathing raggedly in front of the mirror. Staring at your own reflection, you felt your heart sink. It wouldn’t matter how much you loved this if you didn’t even make it through the first year.

After another moment, you turned and walked towards your phone. Switching the song to a classical one, you took a deep breath and went to stand at the barre.

As the first notes began, you rolled your neck and waited to count yourself in. While you couldn’t bring yourself to ask Jimin for help, that didn’t mean you couldn’t take matters into your own hands. You’d seek out other teachers, you’d find other students and you’d do this barre twice as often until you began to improve.

Opening your eyes, you began grand pliés.

Author’s Note: Thank you for reading 😊 New chapters of Raise the Barre will be posted weekly; dates are listed on the series Master List. Requests for updates will be deleted.

RAISE THE BARRE MASTERLIST

#btsbookclub #smutcentralnet #bangtanarmynet #jimin fanfic #bts fanfic #jimin writing #jimin series #jimin dancer au #bts writing #bts series

1K notes · View notes

bemused-writer · 3 years

Text

VNC Chapter 54 Analysis

Whew! It has been a bit since our regularly scheduled meta. 8D A quick life update before we get into it: I'm currently in the midst of switching careers (in other words, job searching, interviewing, etc. etc.) and that is consuming the bulk of my time and thought, so expect further delays on this front, but know they will come all the same. I love writing the meta (and the fic) as you guys know. (^^) With that out of the way, let's take a look at this chapter because things sure happened in it. Honestly, it's kind of everything I could have hoped for. :D Namely, a theory I had going was confirmed.

And that theory is that Misha was not exactly being sincere about wanting to know Vanitas's memories. Sure, he probably would like to know, but his main goal was Noé's death.

He continues saying "You know I'm all you need! You'd be fine without that guy!" So, Misha is fully admitting his motives were incredibly selfish but in a different way than he presented to Noé. Previously he'd made it seem as though all he needed was closure. He just needed to know why Vanitas killed Luna! A self-serving purpose, but sympathetic all the same. The reality is that Misha is incredibly jealous; he wants to keep Vanitas all to himself and can't bear to share him with anyone else.

Furthermore, he cannot fathom what it is about Noé that has Vanitas doing so much for him. At this point, it's unclear how much Misha knows about their relationship, but he definitely knows they're working together and knows they're close (which is half the problem in his estimation). He figured Noé was the main thing preventing Vanitas from rejoining his perfect family. Of course, we know that isn't remotely the case even though we don't know why Vanitas killed Luna, but Misha is in denial about a lot of things, not least of which is this.

Throughout Misha's tirade it seems that Vanitas is maintaining some consciousness, though just barely. I'd guess he's going in and out of consciousness, but Mochizuki went out of her way to show he at least heard Misha's reasoning, i.e. that Vanitas shouldn't need Noé because he has him.

Now, speaking of theories I've had, one of them was proven wrong in this chapter as well, although it makes things more interesting: Dominique is not a curse bearer. We also have it proven that this isn't Louis, but another side of Dominique herself. Note that Louis's mole is missing, thus proving it's her:

As for why she's saying "our" name, I think this is just a grammar thing to be honest. (^^)" There are technically "two" people there even though they're one and the same. But these different reflections of Dominique are quite interesting. Here's what she has to say about this one:

I think at this point it's safe to say that Dominique's more "feminine" side is what she's equating to weakness and her more "masculine" side is what she sees as her strength. The problem she's running into is that she's separating her own personality into chunks, which has caused a rift within herself. Misha was able to take advantage of her because she was stamping out all of her doubt and sorrow and, perhaps most importantly, her past as a more unsure, innocent individual. But that's how she got to where she is today; she can't ignore that past much as she'd like to. I think that for Dominique she'll know real peace once she's reconciled these two aspects of her personality and found that they're ultimately one and the same.

Of course, her issues with Noé need to be addressed as well. Already she's seen that killing herself solves nothing. Noé cares for her and she wouldn't make life easier for him by removing herself from the equation. I think she has to confront there's a certain selfishness in trying to determine what would or wouldn't make Noé happy without talking to him as well, which I suspect will be discussed later in this arc. But most importantly, Dominique needs to learn to value her own life for herself and to prioritize herself for a change. I'm not sure that's something we're going to get around to this arc (baby steps and all), but I feel like she's slowly starting to get there. Right now, she's valuing herself only in terms of Noé caring about her and needing her. She's still prioritizing his feelings over her own and that's the biggest thing that needs to change.

As for Noé, he's only just realizing any of this, so a substantial part of this arc for him will no doubt be him coming to terms with how Dominique actually feels, not just for him but for herself, too. He's also going to have to deal with Vanitas and the fact that Vanitas still didn't offer to help Dominique (that is a problem that hasn't actually been addressed whatsoever yet) and the fact that Noé immediately became the thing Vanitas feared most in an effort to protect her.

This could possibly lead to Noé realizing two things: how much he cares for Dominique and how much he cares for Vanitas. The latter is already in motion. The former has been in motion for years, so it's really a matter of what tone it takes later this arc. Will Noé realize he shares the same feelings for Dominique that she has for him? Or will he realize that he hasn't been as good of a friend to her as he'd hoped? Very curious to see how that progresses.

As for Misha, well, he's taking everything very badly. XD As I've said many times, his plan was actually terrible and the whole thing has, indeed, backfired on him spectacularly. Even the book has backfired on him!

It's honestly kind of hilarious. Now, getting to Misha's abilities, he admits he can't alter a vampire's name, he can simply manipulate them for a time. I think that's what the random vampiric zombie horde is supposed to be: vampires he has manipulated to work for him. And yet, I'm puzzled. It's been heavily implied that Dominique attacked other vampires as a curse bearer, except we now know she isn't actually a curse bearer, so what was she doing? Was she spreading Misha's influence somehow? The vampires all have blood about their lips much as Dominique did when she stumbled back to Misha.

Visually, the dark matter coming out of Misha's book actually look likes blood, doesn't it? We haven't heard of the book being able to manipulate blood, but I find myself wondering if that's what he's doing. Might explain the zombie vibes of his horde. XD Regardless, blood seems involved somehow even if it merely represents the damage his book has done to those he controls.

I suppose we'll find out next chapter! I'm looking forward to seeing more zombies and Misha's abilities continually backfiring on him. I can't imagine Dominique and Jeanne will continue to fight each other seeing as Dominique has her independence back, but the two will definitely need to talk over some things. Ahh, there's going to be a lot of talking this arc; I really can't wait. :D

#vanitas no carte #vnc #case study of vanitas #vnc meta #vnc spoilers #bemused's post #text

113 notes · View notes

harryissuchalittleshit · 2 years

Note

Hi, could you write something about Fleur's 'fameely'?

Sirens

They are a family of singers and it was once joked that they weren’t descendants from Veelas but actually from Sirens.

(What people don’t know is that Veelas are the land equivalent of Sirens)

Fleur has a beautiful voice, but after the war it takes on an almost raspy sound to it, as of she smokes a pack a day for thirty years. She screamed and cried so much in that time that it affected her voice, she sings American country music to hide the raspiness.

Gabrielle’s voice is like that of an Angel. She takes up writing songs and playing any instrument she can. She becomes popular in little bars and cafes until she gets her break. But by then, singing for the locals is all she knows and will do. She teaches her daughters how to play the piano and how to hit the high notes.

Jacques was never a fan of singing in his youth, but his mother put him in choir and his father dropped him off at practice every night. Once he was away at school, the most he would sing was in the shower, or on one strange dare, in the middle of the cafeteria. Without that dare, he would’ve never met his wife.

Apolline loves to sing, from the moment she could make sound, her mother insisted that she was singing. She took ever opportunity to share her voice with the world, but once she got to school, it was cursed out of her. She started to only sing in the showers and quietly at that, until a boy a year older than her started singing her favorite song in the cafeteria and she had to join him.

(They are a family of singers that all lose it at some point)

Victoire sings too, her voice a little bit unsure until she gets to the first chorus of any song. But that changes once she has to put down a screaming baby, she ends up singing more in the wee hours of the night than any other time. It brings back memories of happier times and she finds old country songs works best on her fussy babies.

Dominique has a beautiful voice, sure and clear and magical. She makes heads turn even when she sings off key at Quidditch celebrations (Weasley is our Queen never leaves the Hogwarts halls). She sings to sooth herself, and it had been longer than she ever realized, but singing takes away the silence.

Louis doesn’t sing, he has to be drunk or stoned or numb. He had to not know what he’s actually doing for the words to tumble out and only then he’s singing along to whatever song is playing. But his soft voice is a curiosity to anyone who knows him, his ever quiet persona breaks with music. He still prefers to dance though with a partner, his wife or children, is best.

(They are a family of singers, even if none of them will sing in public anymore)

Jacques is the first to die, old age and sickness take him in seven months. They know this by an unwanted pregnancy that’s been around just as long. He dies and the family descends, at least this family does.

Victoire has three small children, her fourth is home with her husband that she asked to stay away this time. Dominique and Louis arrive together, from one train to the next, they are exhausted and sleep deprived and sad, so desperately and incredibly sad.

Dominique can’t control her emotions anymore and it’s too too much for her to try and play it straight. She is counting her life in weeks instead of months, the life inside of her is getting too big for her tiny frame.

Louis has already played the game of life and death, he has stood on the cliff side by his home. He was born ten weeks early and weighed only four pounds at one point in his life. He doesn’t know how to make the tears stop coming.

(The three of them arrive first and hold each other and cry until they can’t anymore)

Fleur and Gabrielle arrive next, he was their father, their papa. He taught them their abc’s and also how to throw a punch, he was as kind as he was ruthless.

He raised his girls for danger and they took off running with it on their own.

Fleur can’t comfort her three grieving children because she doesn’t know them as she should, but she wants to hold them close to her as she once did when they were babies.

Gabrielle brings her four daughters, each of them as beautiful as the next and grieves with them. She had never once imagined that she did something better than her older sister.

(But they are the two that sing at the vigil)

Apolline goes next the night of the funeral, her grief is so unstoppable that it stops her heart as she sleeps. She welcomes the end of her life and is happy to see her husband once more, they sing together as if they’re school children again.

This time the seven cousins sing together, they stay close and hold one another. The oldest is Victoire, the youngest is little Abbie at twenty-two months old. They make it work even if it doesn’t seem to make sense.

Death feels like a threat after that and they leave France. Victoire dragging her young children home, along with the stowaways that are her baby sister and brother. Dominique cries in her window seat on the train, Louis sings to his goddaughter and tries not to cry anymore.

(He fails, they all do)

Fleur and Gabrielle clean, for weeks and weeks, eventually joined by a husband with red hair and lanky limbs. They clean and discover and cry, at night they sing. They sing the old songs that their parents love and learn to say goodbye.

Fleur will go back home and cry and sing to herself when she can get out of bed, she had never been good with holding in her grief.

Gabrielle will go back to her bars and cafes, she will sing to her locals and all the people that are falling in love with her. She’ll bring her daughters and in the quiet moments will teach them something new.

(They are a family of Sirens, singing is what they do best)

A/N: I am so sorry this took me so long, I was waiting for inspiration to strike, but here you go anon, I hoped you liked it!!

#head canons #harry potter #family #fleur delacour #gabrielle delacour #victoire weasley #dominique weasley #louis weasley #ask game

13 notes · View notes

kyarymell · 3 years

Photo

A New Thirst [Reposted from AO3]

Pairing: Louis Amamiya (Code Vein) x GenderNeutral!Reader Content Warnings: EXPLICIT. Dubious Consent, Fuck or Die, Choking Note: COMPLETELY UNEDITED. After much deliberation, I have posted this again after nuking it from my AO3. PLEASE HEED THE WARNINGS.

---

The drone of the jukebox and Yakumo’s raucous laughter set the mood for the evening at home base. Jack and Eva were entertained by his stories, Rin and Coco discussing business. Things had calmed down after Io took the relics onto herself and saved the Successors.

The next plan of attack was to honour Cruz and Io’s memory by working towards co-existence with humans. Easier said than done, but the team decided on clearing dens of Lost to make the Gaol a safer place.

Making preparations for the next mission, Mia was sharpening her bayonet and Louis was mixing a dark red concoction in clear vials. The Successor of the Blood and Queenslayer, now a regular Revenant, looked on in curiosity. Before, they seldom talked, but now they made an effort to communicate more.

“What are you making?”

Louis squeezed an eyedropper, adding a small amount of an unknown liquid. Sealing the vial with a cork, he swirled it in his hand.

“It’s an Ichor blend made with some of my blood. Designed to give anyone an edge in battle. You can have one, if you want.”

Nodding, the Revenant placed a vial in their utility pouch, thanking their friend. Usually, one would be wary about accepting strange mixtures to consume. Louis on the other hand was trustworthy, having their back since they met in that underground cavern.

‘Time flies...’

It’s been almost a year and with the changing situation in the mists, the Queenslayer started entertaining strange thoughts. They should be used to it now; Louis pushing them out of harm’s way, a pat on the back for a job well done...

Now, those touches only served to make them more aware of how close Louis always was.

Making up an excuse that they needed to do some preparations of their own, the Revenant retreated to their room. Was it too much to think that they could be more than friends? He seemed busier than ever, but still included them in his plans.

Sighing, they decided to get some shut-eye. Revenants seldom needed to sleep, but it made them feel a little more human again conforming to a schedule.

---

The Queenslayer forgot all about the little red vial until they were cornered in a fight. Having exhausted their Ichor and separated from the group, they pulled off the cork and drank it all in one go. Unlike the usual ability enhancing stimulants they took in the past...

Louis’ Ichor blend was cloying, the scent overpowering their senses and rationality. Hands curled into fists, they picked up their sword, swinging it with a renewed ferociousness.

“-designed to give anyone an edge in battle-“

Is this what he meant?

Invigorated, they shrugged off any previous injuries. Going through the motions of Circulating Pulse, it was like their sword hand moved on instinct. Lost shrieked in terror as they were cut down swiftly, shields breaking at the force at which they were hit.

Running on autopilot, they didn’t rest until every Lost in their surroundings were eliminated.

Finally sensing that the danger was over, the Queenslayer collapsed to their knees. Breathing heavily, their vision started to fill with red. They panicked, pulling up their sleeves to check for any signs of frenzy.

No protruding veins, no abnormalities.

…But everything felt so unbearably hot.

‘What’s happening to me? Is this bloodlust?’

Their legs trembled, gloved hands grabbing fistfuls of dirt.

Suddenly overcome with an urge to touch, to drink deep until they were completely sated, the Revenant desperately wanted to take off their Blood Veil. They wanted to take their mask off.

‘Too constricting… can’t… move…’

Feeling a hand on their shoulder, glowing red eyes glared at the offending person.

“Hey! It’s just me, Louis. I’m sorry I couldn’t get to you sooner, the rest of the group were on the other side of that road collapsing-”

The Queenslayer tackled Louis to the ground, fists clenched tightly at his collar. Gripping their wrists, he tried to push them off. They resisted instantly, straddling him and pinning him with their thighs.

With a sense of despair, Louis felt the fight leave his body. After all the trials and tribulations, they were going into frenzy now? Frenzy on a routine mission?

But their lives had only just begun. A life without the Queen’s influence, a life without having to scrounge for blood beads every day.

Blood beads...

He suddenly remembered that he had blood beads on his person in case this happened.

An otherworldly scream pierced the air signalling more Lost and the Queenslayer’s head turned sharply towards the noise. This momentary distraction gave Louis enough time to knock them out with a well-placed hit to the back of the neck.

As they slumped forward, he apologised profusely. There was no time to lose. Ensuring that their mask filter hadn’t fallen in the scuffle, Louis drags them off to a building away from the Lost.

Despite the decrepit state of the structure, Mistle seemed to crawl along the walls in vines.

Releasing the clasp on his mask filter, Louis took a deep breath in. Removing the unconscious

Revenant’s mask, his fingers traced along their jaw for the tell-tale signs of frenzy.

‘What was that?’ he mused, peeling away their Blood Veil.

Removing their gloves, he looked to the inside of their wrists. Smooth skin met his gaze, no scattered red veins to be seen. To ensure that his eyes weren’t deceiving him, Louis gently turned their head to the side.

Nothing.

Sighing, he radioed Yakumo to let him know that their friend couldn’t be moved and the rest of the group would have to go back to base. After giving the red-haired Revenant all the details, he sat back, trying to relax.

Now starts the waiting game.

---

I want his blood. I want to drain him.

The Queenslayer woke with a start, disoriented. Breathing heavily, their bared fangs glistened in the low light. Blinking, their vision came into focus, realising that the brunet who was invading their thoughts was right there with them.

“Hey, you’re awake. Wait… your eyes-“

I want-

Quicker than he could react, the Revenant was upon him again, pinning him to the floor.

‘My body has a mind of its own… I don’t want to hurt him.’

“L-Louis,” their voice was trembling from the exertion of holding themselves back, “help…”

“What happene-mmph!”

Louis was cut off by the Revenant trapping him in a heated kiss, a thumb on the corner of his lips to force his mouth open. They ran their tongue along the indents of his teeth, the roof of his mouth and pulled back to bite his lower lip.

I want to taste.

Everything soon became clear, shaking hands haphazardly loosening his tie. He tasted the tell-tale bitterness that was his own Ichor.

“Did you-ah... did you drink the Ichor blend?”

The Revenant nodded, too choked with lust to form a coherent sentence. Flustered, Louis realised that he was never in any danger to begin with. He wouldn’t have been kissed so feverishly otherwise.

Weapon long discarded, his clothes were being pawed at. Would it be so bad to indulge them a little? Swallowing the lump in his throat, he realised how weak he was in the face of his “attacker”. It was no secret to the other members of the group that he had been nursing a crush on them for a while.

No.

Crush wouldn’t be the correct word to describe how deep his feelings ran. That aside, he really wished this happened differently.

“What do you want?”

“Your blood. Your Ichor. You...”

They looked so desperate and Louis squashed down any semblance of trepidation. “Okay. I want to make sure you’ll remember this.” Louis was never one for laying back.

---

The Queenslayer licked their bloodied lips, retracting their fangs. With the sweet relief of being able to drink Ichor straight from the source, the Revenant was still left wanting. However, if they drank until sated, Louis was sure to fall into frenzy.

The next plan of attack was to solve the side-effect of unbridled arousal in hopes it would bring them back to normal. Lying under him, exposed, their rationality had been discarded long ago. Scars from battles gone by and trials they faced together- all was bared to the Prometheus wielder in front of them.

“You’ll hurt yourself if you’re not patient.”

There was a growl in their throat, dashed away by gloved-fingers skating across their uncovered skin. The Revenant shivered under his touch, Louis brushing a nipple with his thumb. They arched into his touch and with that small show of encouragement, he pinched the sensitive nubs.

As they squirmed, Louis replaced the fingers with his tongue. Their breathing hastened, tugging slightly on his hair as his tongue swirled around their chest languidly. Sneaking a glance to his companion, he saw half-lidded eyes, mouth slightly open in contentment.

He must’ve been doing something right.

Pressing kisses to their exposed throat, Louis nudged their legs open to gain better access. This motion caused their hips to brush together, the Queenslayer hissing at the friction. Their control must’ve been iron, to not tear Louis’ clothing to shreds then and there.

Instead, they grabbed the back of his neck, mashing their lips together desperately. The kiss was filthy, just like the others; a mess of teeth and tongue, the metallic taste of Ichor. Louis bit down on their bottom lip, making them shiver.

“Suck.”

Pushing his gloved fingers into their mouth, he waited as they obediently did what they were told. Deciding they were sufficiently wet, he withdrew and reached between their legs. As they clamped up in surprise, Louis clicked his tongue in disapproval.

“C’mon. You’re doing so well.”

Stroking them deliberately slow, the sounds he forced from their mouth were weighing on his conscience.

Who was the hunter and who was the prey here? He couldn’t help but entertain the idea of taming such a heroic being. Someone who everyone looked up to with unwavering loyalty, reduced to a writhing mess... how for would Louis be allowed to take this?

Flashes came to him all at once; should he flip them over and fuck them until they begged him to stop? Would it be better if he let them sit on his cock, riding until they drained the both of them completely?

His companion was a flood and he was getting swept away, fast. There was something about them that was so alluring, something about them that was driving him wild.

Was this need to overpower his partner truly a facet of his psyche, hiding in the shadows all this time?

Louis pulled away and tugged his gloves off with his teeth. There was no telling what would happen if he left his friend to their own devices. The situation wasn’t ideal at all: he should’ve confessed his feelings earlier and if returned, let nature take its course.

Instead, due to unforeseen circumstances, the intimacy would be happening right here, right now, in an abandoned building.

‘Stop thinking. Just do.’

Fumbling in his pockets for something to prepare his partner with, the reality of the situation sobered him a little. Mumbling an apology, he coated his fingers in the oil he used to maintain his weapon. Revenant or not, there had to be an order to do this.

He’s not sure if he should be surprised, but as soon as his fingers slid in, their hips lifted to bring them in deeper.

---

Louis was too good to them.

He wasn’t as strong as say, Yakumo or Jack, but the way he fucked the Revenant in earnest satisfied them greatly. How could someone undying be so warm? Biting their lip, they shuddered as Louis bent them in half. Unable to stop themselves, they bit into the sensitive flesh of his neck, lapping up the Ichor that escaped.

“Mmph... don’t get too greedy.”

Sweat beaded their brow as they tried to keep quiet. Despite the circumstances, Louis whispered words of encouragement and pressed many affectionate kisses against their skin. Underneath the surface of uncontrollable lust, they lamented on the fact that they weren’t in a relationship.

Suddenly, their thoughts were halted by an embarrassing sound escaping their mouth.

Louis grinned, spreading their legs obscenely wide.

“I’m glad you’re feeling good,” he thrusts in at the same angle drawing another noise, “it wouldn’t be fair if only one of us was enjoying this.”

“Idiot.”

Louis blinked, never had he been insulted by his companion before. He was about to ask what they meant until they reached up and whispered in his ear. They sounded more like their old self and not the Revenant caged by bloodlust.

“I’m enjoying it because it’s you.”

Emboldened, his eyes went suddenly dark.

“Hold onto me.”

Shocked, the Queenslayer wrapped their arms around Louis’ neck as he lifted them. Feeling their back against the cold wall, they were completely filled once more. Leaning forward, the Queenslayer pressed their lips together in a blood-tinged kiss.

Louis fucked them like he wanted to break them apart. The Revenant felt like they were melting on the inside, stomach coiling in arousal whenever their sensitive spots were hit. In this position, Louis could pull out and just let them drop back down.

There was nothing to do but take it, the sensation making their toes curl. Wrapping their legs around his waist, they held on for dear life. Their nails dig lines into Louis’ back, shivering as his hips smacked against their thighs. He seemed to like the rough treatment, groaning in their ear.

The Revenant felt a jolt of pain, the back of their head hitting the wall. Louis curled his fingers around their throat, squeezing. His hair was tousled, eyes wild like a beast. Wincing, the Queenslayer stayed still, despite their fight or flight instincts kicking in. They trusted that Louis wouldn’t hurt them, at least intentionally.

His lips are parted, gaze searching as his thrusts begin to slow. Blinking, he seems to have come back to his senses, releasing his hold on his companion’s neck. Despite losing their breath for a moment, they were frustrated because they were so close.

“Sorry. Don’t know what came over me.”

He’s panting heavily, lifting the Revenant and placing them back onto the floor where their clothes were piled up. Light was dying around the pair as cracks of sunlight peeking through the wall were chased away by dusk. The roots of Mistle cast an ethereal glow, the shadows dancing around Louis’ form.

He really did look remorseful.

Sighing, the Revenant stroked his cheek in reassurance.

“It’s alright. Keep going.”

“But-“

“You’re hurting me more by not letting me come right now!”

Louis bowed his head in embarrassment, caught off-guard. The Successor of the Blood was rarely outspoken, after all.

“I got it.”

Leaning forward, Louis pressed his forehead against theirs, pushing into them once more. From there, they brought each other to the point of no return over and over again, until stars blanketed the Goal of the Mists.

The mutual bloodlust brought on by the special Ichor Blend eventually went away.

---

After what seemed like forever, the pair trudged back to home base slowly. Opening the great wooden door as discreetly as possible, their hopes of returning undetected were gone in an instant Yakumo was sitting at the bar nursing a drink, still wearing his Blood Veil.

“Ah, there you are! Mia was worried sick. She went to sleep not long ago- took a lot of convincing. I knew you would pull through!”

Louis shrugged.

“Is that why you look ready to go out at a moment’s notice?”

“You’re my buddy though! Can’t kill me for being concerned.”

The Queenslayer rubbed their tired eyes, deciding to stay out of the conversation. Limping, all they wanted was to get clean and get to bed. Their haggard appearance didn’t go unnoticed by the heavy swordsman.

“Looking a bit down there, want this Ichor Blend I whipped up?”

“I think they’ll be fine, was just a lot of Lost out there.” Louis responded quickly before they had a chance to answer.

“Right! Okay. Gotcha.”

Yakumo wiped the bar down and put the glass in the sink. Shrugging off his Blood Veil, he went to fasten his weapon to a case near Rin’s workshop. He gave the Revenant a sly smile before retreating to his room.

“Whatever you decide to do from here on out, do it in moderation, okay?”

Louis lowered his head awkwardly, but not before seeing his companion’s mouth open in shock, followed by a small nod.

“You would do that again… without any outside influences?”

It would be good to clear the air now, rather than later. In a show of vulnerability, they revealed their true emotions.

“Yes. I’d be with you again. Always. If you’d let me.”

Louis said nothing, instead grabbing their wrist and taking them to the hot spring.

#code vein #louis amamiya #louis amamiya x reader #louis amamiya x mc #code vein fanfiction #my stuff

128 notes · View notes

mercurial-madhouse · 3 years

Photo

Anonymous asked, I wish you'd write a fic where its the aftermath of a "there's only one bed" and one wakes up to the other doing or saying something surprising cause they thought the other was still asleep.

>*<>*<>*<>*<>*<>*<>*<>*<

That Summer Feelin’ (Getting washed away in you)

Heat glides in fever dreams over his skin. The ocean breeze drifting through the window caresses his body, too placid to ice away the warmth. Sweaty strands of hair cling to his forehead, pearling on his temples and sliding over the crest of his cheek. After two years living in California, Harry’s used to the heat, relishes the sun and sand and ocean breeze, but he’s got central air to keep him cool at night. So why did he leave the window open?

The pillow curled against his chest shifts. Brows furrowing, Harry eases closer to consciousness, taking in his surroundings without opening his eyes. His pillow smells of saltwater air and cedar wood, firm muscle usually wrapped in a body-hugging wet-suit now bare against Harry’s chest.

Memories of last night flood over Harry faster than a white-capped wave.

Arriving by boat on this tiny Fiji island for the trip Niall planned for the four of them. Remote, so Louis and Liam have unbroken command of the sea without fans flocking to the two famous surfers or other riders stealing the waves. So remote that their simple door-less hut has only three mosquito-net-covered single beds. Niall must’ve planned this.

Harry relaxes every muscle as Louis shifts against him in his sleep. Harry should have known this would happen. He’s got no idea how he’s going to let Louis go without waking him.

When Harry first saw Louis stepping out of the waves, board under his arm, his world shifted so completely the day has its own anniversary. Eight months and two days ago now. Niall still hasn’t stopped ribbing him for pouring triple sec all over the bar. Whenever one of the many customers frequenting Watermelon Sugar, the 21+ cabana on the beach where he works, orders a Sex On The Beach—half the time hoping he’ll take the hint—he involuntarily sweeps the beach with his gaze looking for just that.

Sex. On legs. On the beach.

The surfer boy with eyes bluer than the California coastline and brown hair as wild and messy sopping wet as it is when it dries. Every day Harry’s working, he’s out there, riding the waves with his best mate, practicing for the next competition.

He’s not just a surfer boy anymore. One week into his new job, Louis and Liam had set their boards down in time with the setting sun and snagged the corner seats at the bar, lured by the sound of their accents. They’d all chatted the rest of the night away while Harry and Niall whipped up drinks. Now it’s a ritual among them all. Long enough for Harry to find out offhand from Liam that Louis had been through a bad breakup right before they all met, that his ex had dark hair and tattoos too.

Here, there’s no bar between them, no space at all. Niall had warned Louis that Harry sleeps like a koala, but Louis had only shrugged, wiggling his eyebrows as he slung an arm around Harry’s waist, quipping about how much he loves koalas.

Harry’s knocked from the memories when a hand hesitantly smooths up his arm, coming to rest over his own. Harry wills his heart to stop thudding against Louis’s back. Gentle fingers fiddle with his, gliding over each one. Louis must think he’s still asleep. Harry struggles to stay still. Louis fits perfectly in his arms, a fantasy brought to life beyond his wildest imaginings.

The careful touch returns, pressing Harry’s hand against a muscled chest. Louis’s heart beneath his palm is beating as fast as his. Slender fingers ease into the spaces between his own. They curl around his hand. Harry doesn’t dare open his eyes. His mind has plunged beneath the water. He doesn’t want Louis to stop. Louis freezes when Harry’s control fails, fingers closing around Louis’s. Harry nuzzles into the pillow, nose burying in the soft strands of Louis’s hair before he stills.

Slowly, Louis relaxes again, still clasping Harry’s hand. He draws Harry’s up and Harry’s heart bursts when his fingers are held against a warm mouth, stroked tenderly along the plush of a bottom lip he’s dreamed of kissing for so long. A delicate kiss brushes the pad of his finger before Louis tucks their hands against his chest. With a deep breath, he sinks against Harry.

His breathing evens out a few minutes later, the ebb and flow of his chest matching the quiet morning waves kissing golden sands outside the hut.

Hope flutters in Harry, light as a morning dove over the shoreline. He can’t suppress the sun-kissed smile breaking over his lips. Louis promised he’d teach Harry to surf tomorrow. Floating on saltwater clouds, Harry drifts off dreaming of embracing this special surfer-boy beneath wind-swept waves.

>*<>*<>*<>*<>*<>*<>*<>*<

(Thanks for the prompt, Beautiful Anony! You didn’t specify a pairing so I went with Larry! This was so much fun. The longest I’ve done too, but Surfer!Louis and Bartender!Harry were such a treat! I couldn’t resist!)

Have something else you’d like to see me write? Go wild! Send me an anonymous ask completing the sentence ‘I wish you’d write a fic where…’

#28th appreciation #tracksintheam #trackinghome #yourlarrysource #1dsource #hlcreators #hljournal #larry drabble #larry fanfiction

79 notes · View notes

lilothrowbacks · 3 years

Link

Louis Tomlinson went on a Twitter reply stream on Monday (if you saw any of The Honey POP fam trying to get noticed… no you didn’t bestie), and amongst talk of his wisdom teeth, napping, and his nan, his answer to one question, in particular, left our brains melting. HE HASN’T WRITTEN HIS BEST SONG YET! Louis Tomlinson’s songwriting is supreme, but watch this space, the best is yet to come…

Yes, according to our Donny King, when asked what the best song he has written in his lifetime is, Louis answered “Haven’t written it yet”. Considering the quality of music Louis has already put out to brighten our world, plus the other songs that never made it to Walls (he wrote over 100 songs!), we’re not sure how we’ll survive when he does write it!

Contenders For The Title

Louis may not think he has written his best song yet, but we’re pretty sure there are some strong contenders for the title! Here is our ranking of the 6 best songs Louis Tomlinson has ever written! We had to stop ourselves from doing 28… what can we say? We’re simps.

6. ‘Don’t Let It Break Your Heart’

Louis shared that this is one of the songs he is really proud of, for its lyrics and music. During his exclusive chat with LA On Air for 96.5 TDY last year, Lou said while chatting about ‘DLIBYH’: “… across the whole song, that’s something I’m proud of musically in particular. The lyrics are really strong, I mean, that’s always me thing anyway, but I’m really happy with the music…” You’re right Louis, the lyrics really are your thing. Talking about the inspiration for the song, Lou explained “It’s about trying to find hope wherever you can”, and for so many of us, we found hope in that song, and of course, just in Louis. Life really does get hard and get messed up, but for many of us Louie’s, this song makes us feel stronger.

It is beautiful, hopeful, and honest lyricism, and that’s why ‘DLIBYH’ has to be in THP HQ’s list of Louis’ best songwriting!

5. ‘Two Of Us’

I mean, it’s pretty obvious. Do we even need to explain this one? ‘Two Of Us’ is one of the most moving, raw, and emotional songs we have ever heard. In honor and loving memory of Louis’ beautiful Mum Jay, this song and its lyrics feel like seeing into Louis’ heart, and Louis’ ability to do that through music, is unprecedented in our opinion. It has such vulnerable strength and honesty, and Lou’s songwriting here, allowed him to vocalize his pain, but also, it allowed us as fans to mourn in our own way too, and this is a truly special gift that Louis gave to the world. He promised her he’d do this, so all of this is all for Jay; and as fans, we will never forget that. Sleep tight Johannah.

Of course, we had to put ‘Two Of Us’ on our list of times that Louis Tomlinson has absolutely floored us with his songwriting talent.

4. ‘Home’

We can’t even verbalise to you, how much we struggled to pick which One Direction song to include here… he wrote so many! We went back and forth on 9 different songs, because as Louis Tomlinson said on Twitter in 2018, “if it’s by One Direction and it’s a banger I probably wrote on it”. In the end, our hearts belong to ‘Home’, because, putting it bluntly, it is the epitome of how we feel about 1D – they made it feel like home. ‘Home’ is a firm fan favorite because it connected with so many of us in so many ways. That was evident when the song won a Teen Choice Award in 2016, despite never being a single! Fans further celebrated the song, through a month-long fan project in 2016, which led to the song being added to 1D’s official Spotify playlist a month later!

Any song that can connect with us to that level, and make us feel so deeply that we still cry about it after 5+ years, absolutely demands a spot on our list of the best songs Louis has written.

3. ‘Only The Brave’

Say it with us: “It should have been longer!” The closing track of Louis’ debut album, is in our opinion, an absolute lyrical masterpiece. “It’s a church of burnt romances and I’m too far gone to pray”…. Excuse me? Too many feelings. Nobody touch us. What an exquisite visual? Louis Tomlinson doesn’t just write songs, he is a storyteller. We will never understand how Louis managed to pack so much emotion, truth, and vulnerability, into a song of only 1 minute and 44 seconds; but we’ll also never stop thanking him for it. ‘Only The Brave’ has made such a giant footprint in this fandom, with a special mention going to so many LGBTQIA+ Louie’s (this writer included), for the comfort so many of us have found in this song. So many fans feel seen through this song regardless of the meaning or intention, because the honesty of an incredible song, is that people can take what they need from it. That, in our opinion, is Louis’ specialty, and it’s just really bloody important to us!

‘Only the Brave’ felt like a gift to fans, and its lyrics paint such vivid colors and visuals for so many fans. Of course, it’s on our list!

2. ‘Copy of a Copy of a Copy’

‘COACOAC’ is special. Yes, it’s the newest song we’ve heard, but we think it’s one of the best too! Once again, this song paints a picture so beautifully. In fact, we think if we gave Louie’s a canvas and a paintbrush, we could all draw what ‘COACOAC’ looks like! Debuted during Louis’ live stream concert in December 2020 (which we still haven’t recovered from by the way), this song casts shadows and shines light. “I can hear you, howling ’til your lungs hurt, so let this be your comfort, you’re not the only one.” It’s dark, yet hopeful, and experienced yet vulnerable. We think it’s one of the most thought-provoking songs Louis has shared with us, and in seconds, it became a fan favorite. ‘COACOAC’ is a testament to Louis’ insightful songwriting, and stylistically, its alternative vibe makes us weak with anticipation for the future of Louis’ journey with song-writing. We at THP HQ, can’t wait to scream it with you all at a Louis concert, once life makes sense again.

‘COACOAC’ has cemented its place as one of Louis Tomlinson’s best songwriting masterpieces; and has launched itself to number 2 on our list!

1. ‘Defenceless’

Oh, ‘Defenceless’, what can we say about you? You’re our number one. There is one lyric in particular, that just cannot be competed with, and which has confirmed ‘Defenceless’ as our pick for the best song Louis has ever written. “We’re sleeping on our problems like we’ll solve them in our dreams. Wake up early morning and they’re still under the sheets”. Like, seriously? Come on, that isn’t just songwriting, that is poetry, it’s art. We dare to say, it may be one of the best lyrics in music. Ever. The brainpower of this man! ‘Defenceless’ stole the hearts and minds of Louie’s across the world, as it should. The ‘Defenceless’ project, which started online in February 2021, confirmed the magnitude of this song. It brought fans together from across the globe (much like the ‘No Control’ Project back in 2015). We saw #LouiesOnOmegle spread the word of this monumental song to strangers, and Louie’s storm global radio stations to play the track. Not only is ‘Defenceless’ lyrically, melodically, and sonically world-class, but the way it united fans; was magnificent.

This song affirms Louis Tomlinson, as one of the best songwriters of a generation, and it’s going smack-bang at the top of our list, of the best songs Louis has ever written.

25.3.2021

#louis tomlinson #the honey pop #articles #louis update #250321

108 notes · View notes

sweetsubharry · 3 years

Note

do have any mpreg fics? (harry gets pregnant ofc)

Yes I do!! 💖 also of course ;) there’s about 54 in this list if I counted correctly!! so it’s a long one!

Please stay safe and read the tags everyone!!

Worth the Wait by lovelarry10

“Harry, you’re scaring me. Why did you need me to come home? I don’t mind, not if you need me, but… tell me what’s happening, love.” “I…” Harry cleared his throat, but still the words wouldn’t come. His shaking hand reached down and pulled out the picture, his breath coming in shallow pants as he handed it to Louis, who took it from him, frowning down at it.

“Whose is this?”

Louis’ blue eyes met Harry’s green then, and Harry knew he had to tell the truth.

“It’s mine. Ours. I’m pregnant, Louis.”

*****

Louis and Harry had long ago come to terms with the fact they couldn’t have children. Rapidly approaching their forties, they’re settled at work, and more than happily married.

Life, however, has other plans for the Tomlinsons.

Fill My Heart With Sweetness by loopdelouis

Harry's a late bloomer, but since his luck is shit, it's no surprise that he'd be the last to get a heat, but the first to get pregnant. In high school.

Count The Wolves And We'll Sleep Tonight by scribblewrite

Louis's the Alpha of a powerful pack and Harry's his omega.

When Harry's taken by rogue alphas, Louis will do anything to bring him home safely.

yes, you make my life worthwhile by orphan_account

Harry whispers to him that this feels like every dream he’s had for the last three years and Louis kisses his temple, behind his ear, across his cheeks and by the edge of his jaw. He runs the back of his finger across Winnie’s sleep-warm cheeks and sighs, the weight of the world finally off his shoulder.

Louis' a pediatrician, Harry's a preschooler teacher, and they're having a baby.

Weigh Us Down (We're In Love) by orphan_account

Harry’s eyes widen slightly at that. “We’re friends?”

Louis nods eagerly, smiling even wider. “Of course we are! You’re like, my first ever friend here. We just moved in, you see. Did I already tell you about that? Anyway! Maybe you can stay for dinner and I can show you my toys?”

Harry smiles. “You’ll let me play with you?”

Louis nods again, excited. “Of course!” He looks thoughtful for a moment, and then he’s slipping off the couch and crouching in front of Harry. “Oh, and Mum always kisses my wounds after she fixes them up. It makes me feel loads better all the time, so.” He leans forward and puckers his lips, pressing them over the bandage on Harry’s knee.

(harry and louis first meet when they’re eight and ten. this is their story throughout the years.)

love is so good when the love is young by drunkonyou

Louis falls for his pregnant best friend who has a bit of baggage. They make it work though.

fell in love in the morning sun by lumineres

“I'm going to die,” he wails. After about ten minutes of being in the car the discomfort got to be too much and Louis had to pull over so he could get on his hands and knees in the back seat, the only position that seemed to appeal to him. He let's out another pained cry, then grits out, “But not before I fucking kill you. This was your idea, I swear, what the fuck Louis.”

Louis does not correct him this time, he'd made that mistake two contractions ago and nearly lost his head. It had actually been Harry's idea, he'd told Louis that he hadn't forgotten the condoms, he wanted a baby. It really wasn't any trouble at all for Louis to oblige. Within a month of trying (what a wonderful month, honestly), Harry was full of Louis' baby. Like magic.

or, harry's in labor for 30 hours. louis believes in magic.

Vanished by FicNess

Harry loved Louis, Louis loved Harry. It was perfect. But after a small slip-up during some rather poorly planned sexytimes, Harry made the decision to run away. He was pretty good at hiding but Louis was also pretty good at seeking. And when Louis found him he also found a little surprise.

resolutions and lovers in the kitchen by orphan_account

Their dinner’s probably going cold, but this feels monumental. So instead of sitting them down on the table and talking about it face to face over chicken and pasta, Harry just puts his hands over Louis’ where they’re settled on his lower stomach, not letting the moment slip past them. He takes a deep breath, carefully arranging his thoughts. “She looks really lovely, Louis. Positively glowing. Her bump’s so big, and…” he trails off, breath hitching slightly when Louis lifts his hand higher, settling it right over Harry’s stomach, and that’s—

“And what, baby?” Louis asks, voice now dropped to a whisper, and Harry has to take a moment to collect his thoughts.

“She, um. She knows about you, of course, and she asked me when we’re—when we’re having a baby of our own.”

(harry teaches little kids and louis writes sports articles. they're trying for a baby.)

I'll Stand By You by harrystanslouis

Harry and Louis have been hooking up for two years. What happens when an unexpected surprise is thrown into their world?

-An mpreg, A/B/O AU featuring stupid boys in love, lots of pining, and a happy ending.

So Long I've Been Waiting by kikikryslee

Niall held up his glass in a toast. “Cheers.” Harry stared at Louis as he brought the glass up to his lips, unsure of what to do. It wasn’t like he could refuse the drink, but he certainly didn’t want to have any champagne. Louis monitored everyone else, and as soon as they all had their heads tilted back, drinking their mimosa, he reached out and knocked Harry’s glass right out of his hand, sending it crashing to the floor. “Oh, no!” Louis pretended to be shocked at what had just happened. “Harry, you’re so clumsy. You dropped your glass.” “Yes,” Harry said seriously. “I am very clumsy.” --- Or, the one where Harry and Louis are having their first baby, and keeping it a secret until the end of the first trimester is a lot harder than they thought it would be.

We Made These Memories for Ourselves by supernope

Breath held, Harry squints his eyes open and focuses on the first stick. A blue line. Harry breathes out an unsteady breath. He’s pretty sure he read that one blue line is a negative, but he fishes the box from the bottom of the pile just to make sure.

“Negative,” he confirms, voice echoing around the small room. “Next.”

Now that he’s feeling a little less shaky, he scans the rest of the tests at once, is met with a headache-inducing mixture of pink plus signs and blue double lines. His heart rate picks up until it’s pounding triple-time in the base of his throat and the pit of his stomach, thundering in his ears and throbbing in his temples. He flips over the rest of the boxes slowly, but he knows what they’re going to say before he even looks.

[or, Louis is a footballer, Harry owns a bakery, and they're having a baby.]

Nothing I'm Running From by swallowsmateforlife

The odds are one in a million. Chances are it's not going to happen to them.

It does happen to them and Harry Styles is pregnant.

deep in my heart i know there's only you by ballsdeepinjesus

"Will you do it?” Harry whispers. Louis has to lean closer just to hear him. He furrows his brows and shakes his head, not knowing what Harry means. “Would you donate for me?”

Louis is dumbfounded. “I’m sorry, I thought you just asked if I’d donate my sperm. Can you repeat yourself?”

[harry and louis are best friends who engage in some platonic baby-making. very platonic.]

hard to confess by hereforlou

One, they only did it without a condom once (and a half) and not during his heat. Never during his heat. Two, he never once forgot to take his birth control (he’s almost sure). Three, his plan is to be married for a year before he even starts trying for a baby, and not only is he very, very single, him and Louis aren’t even sleeping together anymore. Which brings him to reason number four why this can’t be happening: Louis. Louis doesn’t want a baby with Harry.

(Or, the one where Harry knows he messed up and Louis knows nothing.)

Piece by Piece by SadaVeniren

He rubbed his hand over his lower stomach and closed his eyes. Louis was going to lose his fucking mind.

(aka Harry tells Louis he's pregnant and it goes as expected)

Fallen Far From the Tree by SadaVeniren

“I’m so excited.”

“Me too,” Louis said. “Just think, it’s gonna be you and me forever.” He even managed to sing song the end of the sentence.

Harry snorted. “That’s not how the line goes. And besides, it’s not gonna be you and me forever. It’s gonna be you, and me, and this little one.”

He could see the smile stretch across Louis’ face. “Yeah. You’re right.”

(aka Harry and Louis go through the ups and ups of pregnancy)

Right Here Waiting by lovelarry10

Louis and Harry are expecting a baby. Harry's heavily pregnant and nesting madly, determined to make their home ready for their baby.

(i didn't mean to) fall in love tonight by zouisclimax

Harry texts him back a thumbs up emoji before leaning forward and throwing up again. He groans, but stands after he’s done, wiping his mouth with toilet paper, and flushing the toilet.

He washes his mouth out as best as he can before steeling himself and heading back to class, trying his best not to cry. He tells himself that there is no point in worrying when he doesn’t even know if there is anything to worry about yet.

He still feels sick.

[or, the American boarding school AU where Harry's infatuated with Louis and one night flips his whole world upside-down]

you fit me better than my favourite sweater by brightbluelou

Harry didn't mean to fall in love with his best friend, and he definitely didn't mean to get pregnant. Despite that, it’s probably still the best thing that’s ever happened to him. And after that, well. It just kept getting better.

or; the one where Harry and Louis are friends-with-benefits and Harry unexpectedly gets pregnant. Harry never wants to stop getting pregnant after that, but Louis thinks seven kids is probably enough.

Running Down To The Riptide by sweaterpawstyles

"I can't give you your present yet, Lou."

Louis furrowed his brows. "And why is that, my love?"

Harry smiled at his lap. "Because your present is under my sweater," he pulled his free hand that wasn't laced with Louis' and gently laid it on his stomach. "I'm pregnant."

It's New Year's Eve and Harry has a surprise under his sweater

When I'm Lost I feel so very Found by sweaterpawstyles

Louis posted a picture a few minutes later of Harry kissing his cheek and captioned it as "My baby is having our baby :)"

It ended up getting almost a million likes in just a few hours and Louis' phone was blowing up with texts of congratulations from his friends. Harry couldn't stop blushing.

Or, the one where Harry is an average university student who winds up pregnant with rising actor Louis Tomlinson's child

Gasoline Stars by galacticlourry (orphan_account)

It reminded him of stardust, of the history of suns, and he supposed that was what the boy asleep on his shoulder had been created out of. The history of suns.

...

Or, an AU where it's all nice and innocent until someone ends up pregnant. (That would be Harry.) Also known as the Mpreg AU I've doubt you've read before.

Answer All Your Wishes by SadaVeniren

Harry and Louis met when Harry was thirteen and as first impressions go theirs was memorable enough to start a life long romance.

AKA a Tom Fletcher/Giovanna Fletcher AU where Louis is part of One Direction, Harry is the love of his life who blogs, and they have many, many children.

Claire de lune by Neondiamond

"We're having a baby Lou." he heard him say softly.

"We are babe, we are." Louis whispered into his husband's curls. "We're having a baby."

OR: Harry and Louis have wanted a baby for a while now, and now Harry's finally pregnant.

we've got a lifetime to kill by louislovesharry

harry and louis have a three year old daughter, evie, who is their whole world, and another little girl on the way. when harry falls and is put on bedrest for the remainder of the pregnancy, louis and evie must adjust - but it is all worth it for their newest addition to the tomlinson family.

Dirty Little Secret by therogueskimo

“Can’t let Gemma … she can’t find us,” Harry gasped against Louis’ lips, kicking his jeans off.

“Why?” Louis breathed against his mouth, working his lips down along the line of his jaw and onto his neck.

“Just … I don’t want to – god, Lou – don’t want to deal with her reaction. Just want it to be us.”

“Our dirty little secret, eh?”

_____________

Or the one where Harry and Louis fall in love, but can’t figure out how to tell Gemma. That is, until Harry gets pregnant, and they don’t have much of a choice.

Come In and Change My Life by lightswoodmagic (sarah_writes)

He’d had the same neighbours since he’d moved into the building, a lovely, wealthy couple in their late sixties who had always invited him around for tea on Sundays. Martha had dropped off homemade biscuits the day he’d moved in, so Harry figured he may as well repeat the sentiment. He could hear someone getting closer to the door just as a flush ran through his body; oh fuck. His heat was close, too close to be knocking on a potentially unknown alpha’s door, but it was too late. The door swung open, and Harry’s mouth dropped. He’d never been overly interested in football, couldn’t find the fascination in watching men run around after a ball for hours aside from their uniforms, but he knew who this was. Louis Tomlinson, alpha, captain of Manchester United, star in a number of Harry’s heat addled fantasies, was his new next-door neighbour.

Or, Harry and Louis become friends when Harry looks after Louis' cat during away games, until one night at a party changes everything between them. It's just a shame Louis' going to be away for the FIFA World Cup for three months.

Put It Into Words by orphan_account

“It’s a good storm though, our families,” Louis says, flopping down on to the bed and cuddling close to Harry. He tucks his arm around Harry’s waist, kissing his temple. “The Cheshire house is perfect to raise the baby; your mum’s close, and my mum can stay in the guest bedroom when she visits.”

“And until then we have the long weekend to ourselves.”

Or, Harry and Louis go on a babymoon.

I Get To Love You by lovelarry10

A one night stand leaves Harry with a permanent reminder of the night he spent with a stranger.

Louis has no idea who the handsome stranger he took to bed is... until his friends make a shocking discovery.

A baby is on the way, and Louis and Harry have nine months to get to know each other before they become a family...

Dancing Shadows by SadaVeniren

The house was quiet by the time Louis walked up to it. He’d been away for a week and while it wasn’t the longest he’d ever been away from the pack, it was the longest he’d been away from Harry and the kids.

A Perfect Reason by Chelsea Frew (chelseafrew)

During a visit to a charity he'd like to support, Prince Louis--next in line to the throne of the United Kingdom--meets Harry, the man of his dreams. Trouble is, Louis is not out, and the law says his heirs can only be born of a woman. Louis is determined not to let that stop his pursuit of Harry. His determination doubles when Harry accidentally becomes pregnant. He and Harry will have their little family--and change the monarchy while they're at it.

Another Constellation to Trace by screwstyles

Louis wiggles his eyebrows. “I’m winning that bet.”

“What bet?” comes Niall’s excited voice from behind them, followed by footsteps. “I wanna be in on the bet!” he shouts, prompting Harry to quickly roll down his shirt sleeve and straighten his shirt where it’s still crinkly after Louis’ hands.

Niall takes one look at them and purses his lips in a tight line. “Were you guys making out again? Isn’t the fire meant to die down a bit after eight years?”

“Trust me, the fire is still very much alive,” Louis winks at Harry. “One could even say it’s cooking something.”

Mpreg AU: Louis and Harry bet on who can keep Harry's pregnancy a secret for longer. Neither of them is particularly good at it, and it doesn't help that their soulmate tattoos make it even harder.

Made From Love by lovelarry10

It's almost Christmas, and amongst the preparations, Louis' realised something about his husband Harry.

Harry, however, seems to be oblivious.

Louis' determined to open Harry's eyes and make him realise the real magic that's happening this Christmas...

years go by, whether you want them to by louislovesharry

A girl. They were having a little girl, and Harry couldn’t be happier. He had dreamed of having a daughter for as long as he could remember. A tiny little angel that he could dress up, have tea parties, pick flowers with. And if that wasn’t her thing, Louis could play footie with her, they could teach her how to play guitar and play with toy trucks. There was nothing Harry wanted more than to have and hold this beautiful creature that they had made together out of pure love, and nurture and cherish her for always.

The 'Oh my God it's twins!" Drabble. by FicNess

The 'Oh my God it's twins!" Drabble.

another pair of feet by honey_beeing

where Harry is pregnant and Louis is an oblivious idiot.

I will Only have these eyes for you by Dysia

Harry's pregnant and Louis' more in love with him than ever.

Don't ever let this day stop by Dysia

Louis comes back home earlier than he was suppose to and he's surprised with the best present ever.

i will rearrange the stars (pull 'em down to where you are) by orphan_account

Except-- the antibiotics. They'd fucked to celebrate Harry finally feeling better and not being contagious after his fight with strep-- but the antibiotics had likely still been present. And everyone knew suppressants and birth control didn't work when on antibiotics.

"Lads," Harry repeated once again, blinking slowly as his eyes filled with tears. Liam and Niall were staring at him in bewildered silence. "Lads. I'm, like, ninety-eight point seven percent sure I'm up the duff."

Alternatively, the one where Omega!Harry gets pregnant

To Carry Love by dimpled_halo

During One Direction's hiatus, Harry becomes unexpectedly pregnant, and Louis does his best at becoming the most supportive husband he can be.

Fists Alongside Hearts by mpregharryqueen

Louis is a superhero protecting New York City. He never planned on having a sidekick and especially never planned on having a baby with said sidekick.

AU based very loosely on the cinematic masterpieces, Sky High and The Incredibles.

On His Way Home by denisemuriel

“Ehm, yeah.” Harry looked down onto his lap, fumbling with his fingers. “It’s Louis’.” He replied quietly. “Oh my god.” A voice that didn’t belong to his sister Gemma replied. When Harry looked up from his lap, he saw Lottie standing across the room in the door frame and his eyes grew as wide as hers. She was Louis’ fucking sister, damn it. And now she knew that he was pregnant with her brother’s baby. “Lottie, your fucking brother got my baby brother pregnant!” Gemma exclaimed.

Or the one where Harry is set up on a blind date with his sister's best friend's brother

We Were Made to Love by supernope

“Everything all sorted? Need help with the buckles? I know they’re a bit tricky in this compartment.”

The voice startles Louis out of his daze, and he turns toward the voice to let him know he figured it out. When he catches sight of the owner of the voice, though, his response dies in his throat. Whatever he had imagined the conductor of a children’s train that rides around the shopping centre in Leeds would look like, this is certainly not it.

Leaning through the window, arms folded across the sill, is a green-eyed angel with cherry red lips stretched wide in a smile and dimples flirting in his cheeks. A black conductor’s hat is the only confirmation that this is not some gorgeous stranger who’s come to flirt with Louis through the window of a children’s train, but is just a man doing his job.

[or, Harry drives a kiddie train in the shopping centre for the summer and is obsessed with babies, and Louis never stood a chance.]

Baby, What a Big Surprise by kiwikero

As Harry settles into his seat, self-consciously adjusting his shirt over his slightly distended stomach, he can’t help but wonder how he got himself into all this. But he knows, of course he knows. It isn’t exactly easy to forget the moment that changed his entire life forever.

It all started with a party.

Or, the one where shy, quiet Harry has no idea he's a carrier, and a one night stand with the most popular boy in school shows him just how wrong he was.

Featuring Lottie as Harry's best friend, Niall as her boyfriend, and, of course, Louis as the popular boy with a soft spot for his little sister's quirky friend.

here comes the sun by orphan_account

“Everything’s going to be fine,” Louis promises, his pink, chapped lips moving slowly in the cold. It matches the beanie on his head—pink, because they found out this morning that they’re having a girl and that’s just.

Harry’s going to be a dad. To a little girl. Five months from now he’ll be holding her in his arms, and she’ll be so lovely and small.

They’re going to have a spring baby and she’s probably going to have Louis’ eyes. What a blessing that would be. Harry crosses his fingers on the hand inside his pocket, hoping that she does. He’ll love her either way—blue or green or even brown eyes, it doesn’t matter—but he’d really like them to be blue, he thinks.

[Harry is a pediatric specialist, Louis is a neurosurgeon. All they want is a baby.]

and the sun shines upon your face by rosegarden

“It's just – it feels weird. To tell her that her twenty year old closeted son got knocked up in the middle of a stadium worldwide tour.” Louis laughs and Harry's heart squeezes at that beautiful sound. “Well it does sound weird when you put it like that.” “I don't 'put it like that'. It's the truth.”

the one where Harry really, really likes making plans but plans don't really like him, Louis is an overprotective-future-dad-to-be and Niall, Liam and Zayn race to be the godfather.

everywhere (i wanna be with you) by itiswhatitisbutterfly

Harry and Louis meet because they have terrible friends, they fall in love because something feels right in a world of uncertainty and shifting grounds. Louis is an actor and Harry is a model at the top of his game, the best things in life are the most unexpected ones and the things that hit you when you are least expecting it.

Featuring winter in London, nights in Paris, early mornings in New York, burning heat in Monte Carlo and an enduring love spent transcending four corners of the globe.

kiss full of color, makes me wonder where you've always been by louislovesharry

after a rough day dealing with his three kids and louis being gone, a very pregnant harry is exhausted. louis helps make things better, always.

you make my whole world feel so right when it's wrong by orphan_account

“Curly?” Louis says, stepping into Harry’s sight. “You okay?” Harry looks up from where he has two things in his hands, a thick winter coat sized for a newborn, and a sweatshirt fitting a grown man such as himself. He looks up at Louis, stricken, and holds them out for him to see. “They’re the same price,” he says. “They’re both forty dollars! Forty dollars for such little material.”

(or, Harry is pregnant and stops at the mall to buy cheap baby clothes. Louis has extra money from working a long shift, and he can't think of a better way to spend it than on him.)

i'll be your sunflower by scagnetism

“What do you think’s gonna stop us now?” Harry says cheekily, laughter in his voice as he looks up at Louis. “Something’s gotta get in our way like always, doesn’t it?”

“Ha,” Louis grins, kissing his cheek and holding open the door for him as they make their way toward the car. “Nothing’s gonna interrupt us this time. ‘S gonna be perfect, just like Pumpkin.”

Or, a few interruptions aren't going to stop Harry from having a perfect pregnancy and having the family he and Louis have always dreamed of.

The Original Mpreg!Harry by Chelsea Frew (chelseafrew)

series

i'll put my future in you by louislovesharry

series

Picture Perfect by LittleBubbleStyles

an AU where Louis Tomlinson is a misunderstood football player, and Harry Styles is a misunderstood photographer. Somehow, they're understood together.

*just a note to say this is a wip but it is almost completed and updated regularly!

158 notes · View notes