Call me badalloc. Ao3 author. My superpower is overestimating how much of my outline I can fit into a single chapter. (she/her but I don’t sweat the details)
Just a place to put my Ao3 fic so I can get it off of my art blog :)
(This post covers rules for my work, since people have asked)
My asks box is open!
Feel free to send me questions about any of my stuff. There’s a lot of it. You can also send me one-shot fiction requests, if you like. No promises, but I'll ramble about basically anything, given half a chance xD
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#asks and answers - inbox!
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Vampires SMP fanfic
The Reversal AU
Reversal - An alternate ending to VSMP, in which I fix Bloodletting
Saint's Guise - Louis origin story/Lovebitten retelling. (Alternate entry point to the Reversal AU, and prequel to Reversal)
[series link on ao3] - there are more one-shots to be found here!
tags:
#vsmp reversal
#reversal fanart <- LOOK AT THESE!!
#vsmp reversal au
#saint's guise
#saint's guise fanart <- OMG
#badalloc booklocke
The False Saint AU
A Choose Your Own Adventure Story. Blog fic that explores Louis' fate after the events of Saint's Guise, with audience participation.
Now I've started wondering if I know enough Latin to pull this off (with the trusty help of google) and how someone who spoke only Latin, with absolutely no knowledge of English, would have learned English in the old days.
Not for any important reason, of course. I just think it could make a funny little story.
Also, I feel the need to atone for whatever it is I've been doing with my recent AO3 uploads.
Venus, I would read the hell out of this if you wrote it. Being able to talk and shmooze his way out of consequences is such a central part of Scott’s character. What happens when you strip that away?
Scott wakes to the smell of blood and woodsmoke. For a long moment, he doesn't move. Six hundred years of sleep sits heavy in his bones, pressing against his ribs like stone. The world feels wrong. Too loud. Too bright.
Voices drift through the forest. Human voices. Scott's eyes snap open. He rises from the grave. Hunger claws at his stomach, ancient and familiar. Yet something else catches his attention first.
The voices.
People.
Civilization.
He follows them.
The village he finds is small, but it is clearly not whole.
Crumbling buildings stand beside newly repaired ones. Some houses are little more than skeletal frames draped in vines, while others show fresh timber and recent handiwork. The roads are uneven, half-swallowed by years of neglect, and lanterns glow in places where people have only recently returned.
It feels less like a town and more like a wound being stitched closed.
Someone is rebuilding this place.
Someone is trying to bring it back to life.
A young man notices him standing at the edge of town.
"Oh! Hey! Are you okay?"
Scott stares. The words mean nothing. Not a single one. The man continues speaking. Faster this time.
Scott blinks. "...Quid?" (What) he asks.
The man stops. "What?"
Scott frowns. "Quid dicis?" (What are you saying?)
The man looks increasingly concerned. A few more villagers gather. They begin asking questions all at once. Scott understands none of it. His confusion slowly turns into horror.
These are humans.
Humans speak Latin.
Humans have always spoken Latin.
Why would they speak anything else?
He points at one of them.
"Loquere recte." (Speak properly)
The villager tilts his head. "What?"
"Latine."
The villager frowns. "...I don't understand."
Scott's brow furrows. "Latine."
The reaction is immediate.
"Wait, that's Latin."
"He's speaking Latin?"
"Seriously?"
Several villagers begin talking over one another.
"Doesn't the doctor know Latin?"
"A little, I think. Where is he?"
"He's out of town."
"Of course..."
His hope immediately dies.
Scott watches them hopefully. They recognized the language. Good. Excellent. Progress. Then the conversation continues in whatever incomprehensible tongue they are speaking.
"LATINE," he repeats more firmly, gesturing between himself and the group.
The villagers exchange apologetic looks.
"Yeah, we know it's Latin."
"None of us actually speak it."
He doesn't know a single word they just said.
Six hundred years.
He sleeps for six hundred years and somehow humanity has forgotten how to speak.
A terrible realization settles over him.
He is ancient. Powerful. One of the oldest vampires alive.
And he is completely incapable of asking where he is.
Shelby Is Not Naive, Or: Everyone Cares Too Much About Scott Goldsmith
Shelby fully expects the people of Oakhurst to kill her at the first opportunity. Shelby is so invested in the coven and so willing to excuse the flaws of other vampires because she has bought into the idea that the humans can and will hurt her at the first opportunity. There are many reasons for this, but Scott Goldsmith is not one of them.
Scott is her bestie because he stands still and says nice things while everyone else is running around introducing her to new and exciting forms of torment nexus. It is a “luigi wins by doing nothing” ass situation.
Once Shelby is turned, it becomes nearly impossible for her to talk to a human without being threatened. Many social interactions from the very instant she walks back into town after the fishing trip are shadowed by someone openly planning to hurt or kill vampires.
Avid tries to test if she’s repelled by silver and then starts building a jail cell in front of her. Apo isn’t directly threatening, but basically comes to Shelby with the hypothetical “what if there was an evil vampire”. And then they emphasize the importance of keeping a stake at hand.
Shelby asks Ren if they’ll really have to fight each other, and Ren says that it’s just the way of the world. Sausage emphasizes the point by yelling “stab them all until they’re dead!”, which isn’t really a great thing to hear when you are one of the “them” in question.
Eventually, Apo gets turned, and most of the vampires convene at the beacon, where Martyn burns her alive.
Let me repeat that: she burns alive.
The video editing emphasizes this as a big deal. Shelby’s narration in the aftermath concludes that “if i asked for a chance to talk, they would have just killed me without a second thought.” From Shelby’s perspective, they did just kill her without a second thought. It is the climax of their episode 3, and one of the first things Shelby mentions in episode 4. It is a major turning point for the character, with good reason.
As far as Shelby is concerned, the vampire vs human conflict began with her experiencing a horrific death for the grand crime of crouching next to a beacon.
From this point forward, non threatening interactions with humans vanish almost entirely.
The only conversation Shelby has with a human is episode 4 is her face to face with Avid, which has high points and low points. The low points include Avid telling her about staking his partner because she attacked him.
Shelby, does, however, visit the town later, where she finds Avid burning her house down.
And then Legundo reads the cure book in front of the house’s ashes.
Legundo also scolds Avid for burning down the house, but Shelby misses that part. In fact, Shelby missed all of the pro Shelby comments made in the town around that time.
According to the post series creator’s commentary, (which i can’t link because twitch deletes old vods so it probably no longer exists aajfas;llllldg) this isn’t even a matter of clever editing- Shubble was legitimately out of range for all of the parts of the story where people agreed that they wanted to help Shelby.
In episode 5, she is approached by a group of Drift, Cleo, and Pearl. Shelby is surrounded, and asks them to put their swords away. Pearl takes a minute to do so, and when she does she switches to a bottle of holy water. Shelby backs away and Pearl moves forward.
The start of this conversation very much has shades of an interrogation: “why do you look so different? Did you eat truffle?”
Shelby tells them about being burnt alive, and the response she gets from Cleo is “but you got better”. Which sucks, and serves as an ironic mirror for the way that Scott and Owen are dismissive about the trauma involved with turning people. Both factions are expecting Shelby to just walk off the wrongs done to them, but the Oakhurst faction is openly threatening future harm to Shelby.
Of the three of them, Drift is the most supportive. The conversation improves from there, and some nice things are said, but Shelby was still threatened. It was still the preamble to the nice and productive part of the talks.
Then she has the meeting with Avid where he asks to be turned, which goes fairly well but ends with Avid being decidedly non human. Also Owen replaced one of Avid’s messages to Shelby with a death threat, so Shelby was still threatened over it.
Episode 6 has the Oakhurst invasion where all of the vampires visit Oakhurst and Pearl gets chased around. Shelby doesn’t really talk to anyone here, but she sure does get to hear Pearl make a generalized threat. Because Shelby can never catch a break.
We also see another instance of Shelby assuming that the townies are after her: her narration says “i thought Pearl was chasing me”
Then there’s a conversation with Sausage. Sausage pulls out a stake because of course he does.
Then Drift pulls Shelby aside, and they have a lovely chat where there are no threats of bodily harm. However, Drift is a vampire, so it doesn’t count. Rip.
When Avid starts talking about the cure, Shelby’s immediate assumption is that if Avid asks to be cured, the humans will stake her without a second thought. She also is the one to suggest sabotaging the cure for the sake of protecting herself and the other vampires.
Episode 7 sees Shelby dealing with humans twice, and both of them are decidedly hostile interactions
The first bit of human contact comes when the vampires burn down the walls of Oakhurst. This is, naturally, open combat. Shelby makes a point of targeting Martyn.
Her second human interaction in episode 7 is running into Abolish, who promptly introduces her to the Veylocke murder box. In other words, Shelby is stunned, rendered immobile and helpless, and executed in cold blood. It is not an easy death.
Abolish even acknowledges that she didn’t do anything, and then kills her anyway.
episode 8 is the finale, where she fights some humans, hides from humans, eventually has a truce with humans for the first time ever, and then wanders off into the sunset with Drift and Scott.
That’s basically all of Shelby’s major human interactions post episode 3. There is never an instance where speaking to a human is not linked with being threatened by a human after that point.
For the most part, this is entirely the result of the people of Oakhurst’s own priorities and character choices, but there is one vampire that tries to make sure that Shelby can’t talk to the humans. Someone that tries to isolate her, someone that uses threats, someone that is willing to lie to keep Shelby in the castle and away from town.
That person is Owen.
Owen interferes with Shelby speaking to townsfolk three times, to mixed results: he joins the conversation with Apo and successfully diverts them from trying to convince Shelby she’s wanted in town; he replaces Avid’s letter with a threatening message, but Avid manages to set up a meeting with Shelby and clear the air with her anyway; and he appears in the Pearl-Drift-Cleo meeting with Shelby in episode 5, which arguably improves the situation because he took the conversation in a useful direction and Shelby had already felt threatened anyway.
…actually, all three of these things happen in episode 5. Owen has a very brief window of being invested in the coven in this particular way. He does some pretty nasty lying in that window, though.
While this could be an interesting plot thread, Owen’s contributions are something of a cigarette in a burning warehouse. Shelby got killed twice as collateral damage, and both deaths were exceptionally traumatic. No amount of intercession on Owen’s part is going to speak louder than the wrongs done to Shelby by the humans themselves. No amount of lying on Oakhurst’s behalf is more damning then Oakhurst’s own failure to address the damage they’ve done in any way. He’s burying a relationship so far underground it is already in hell.
Even seemingly minor things like Pearl’s tendency to casually arm herself do more to damage Oakhurst’s reputation then Owen is really capable of- there is a direct line of cause and effect between Pearl saying she has a stake and Shelby assuming that Pearl is chasing her down. Shelby is rightfully skeptical of the claims Owen makes about other people, but when someone else is making those kinds of statements, she tends to believe them.
And then there’s Shelby’s backstory.
Shelby’s backstory, where she is isolated from her entire community growing up. Where people she considered friends and neighbors didn’t care about her in turn. Where nobody had even done something as basic as telling her that she’s fun to be around.
Of course Shelby thinks that Oakhurst is willing to write her off at the drop of a hat. That’s what her hometown did.
In conclusion
1: the town is not blameless in the Oakhurst vs Castle conflict. They have done real harm to the Coven, and most of it has fallen on their friendliest and least aggressive member.
2: Shelby is indeed afraid and isolated, but the bulk of that fear and isolation is generated and maintained by the people of Oakhurst themselves. The one time Scott had an opportunity to sabotage one of Shelby’s outside relationships, he chooses not to.
3: Scott is Shelby’s first friend, ever, and the feeling is mutual. This is a key component of why Shelby is Like That.
4: The answer to most gripes regarding vsmp’s story arc and ending is Shelby. Why did Scott live and Pyro die? Shelby. Why did Scott suddenly pivot to pacifism? Shelby. Why can’t the humans just wipe out the coven and call it a day? Shelby. Why was the coven a legitimate social structure in the first place? That’s also Shelby. It’s Shelby all the way down.
In Shelby’s story, Scott is the prize she wins for her kindness and Pyro becomes the avatar of all of the senseless violence she has suffered.
Shelby’s character arc is one of being the collateral damage of other people’s agendas so frequently that she becomes convinced that she must use violence herself. This culminates in her killing the most direct and personal threat to her physical safety, which is Pyro. Shelby’s other character arc is about seeking peace and companionship despite the bloodshed around her. This culminates in her turning her closest companion from the path of violence, and that companion happens to be Scott. Scott and Pyro’s conclusions are mirrored halves of Shelby’s finale, and reflect Shelby’s greatest triumph and lowest low.
The outcomes they get make sense if you position Shelby as the central character, and her choices were the ones that decided their fates.
My kid actually started that fic. Pyro, being a good scholar from the turn of the last century, has some ancient languages under his belt. Scott turns him first to have him as a translator, and also to jumpstart his own understanding of modern English with a dip into Pyro's mind.
I hope she does, too! That’s such a cool premise :D. I love the idea of giving Scott a reason to need *Pyro* specifically. How does that change their dynamic? How does that change *everything*?
Now I've started wondering if I know enough Latin to pull this off (with the trusty help of google) and how someone who spoke only Latin, with absolutely no knowledge of English, would have learned English in the old days.
Not for any important reason, of course. I just think it could make a funny little story.
Also, I feel the need to atone for whatever it is I've been doing with my recent AO3 uploads.
Venus, I would read the hell out of this if you wrote it. Being able to talk and shmooze his way out of consequences is such a central part of Scott’s character. What happens when you strip that away?
I'm obsessed with the autopilot au by @vampostingtime.
Consider this some evil/possessive Louis propaganda, brought to you by yours truly! I am so normal about them and this!
Y'all would still like me if I turn our favorite pretty boy evil, right?
...right?
If I had a nickel every time I turned a saint-like/good characters evil, I would have two nickels, which isn't a lot, but it's weird it happened twice.
The worst part was that Owen made it easy. Not intentionally. Never intentionally. That was what Louis told himself every time he slipped behind Legundo's eyes and found Owen already smiling at him.
At them.
At the body Louis borrowed.
At the voice that wasn't his.
At the hands that weren't his.
At the heartbeat that definitely wasn't his.
Louis had expected possession to feel powerful. Victorious. Like reclaiming something stolen from him by death. Instead, it felt desperate. Hungry. Like pressing his face against the glass of a bakery window and pretending the smell was enough.
So he stayed longer.
And longer.
And longer.
Legundo had agreed. At first. That was the important part. That was the thing Louis reminded himself whenever the doctor's consciousness clawed upward beneath his own.
Legundo had said yes.
Legundo had offered.
Legundo had wanted to help.
The rest was merely... adjustment. A necessary sacrifice.
For Owen.
For them.
The afternoon sunlight poured through the castle windows in golden sheets. Owen sat beside him on the couch, curled up with his knees tucked against his chest.
Comfortable.
Safe.
Louis couldn't stop looking at him. Even now. Even after all this time.
Owen noticed eventually. "What?"
Louis smiled. "Nothing."
Owen rolled his eyes. "You've been staring for ten minutes."
"Can you blame me?"
That earned him a laugh. A real one. The sound struck Louis somewhere deep inside his chest.
God.
He missed this.
Missed Owen.
Missed having him close enough to touch.
Close enough to breathe.
Close enough that Louis could convince himself nothing had changed.
His fingers found Owen's wrist. Gentle. Possessive. Owen let him.
Louis felt Legundo somewhere beneath him. A distant pressure. Like someone trapped underwater, beating weakly against the surface.
Ignore it.
Focus on Owen.
Focus on this.
"You okay?" Owen asked quietly.
Louis nodded. Too quickly. "I'm perfect."
The pressure surged. Suddenly. Violently. His breath caught. The room tilted.
For a split second Louis felt his grip slipping. Like oil through his fingers. Like waking from a dream.
No.
No no no—
A sob ripped from his throat.
Raw.
Broken.
Violent.
Owen jumped. "Legs?"
Another sob followed. Then another. The pressure exploded upward.
Legundo surfaced. Not fully. Never fully. Just enough. Enough to make Louis lose control of the body's face. Enough for tears to spill down their cheeks. Enough for the doctor's terror to flood through muscles that no longer listened to him.
Owen was already moving. Already grabbing his shoulders. "Legs?"
Legundo looked at him. Actually looked at him. For the first time in weeks. Maybe months. Time had become difficult to measure.
His vision blurred. Words jammed in his throat.
Help me.
Owen.
Please.
His mouth opened. Nothing came out except another strangled cry. His hands grabbed Owen's shirt. Desperate. Shaking.
Trying to hold on.
Trying to say something.
Anything.
Owen's face twisted with concern. "Legs, what's wrong?"
The words shattered something inside him. Because Owen genuinely didn't know. Didn't understand. Didn't see.
Louis returned like a slammed door. The body went rigid. The sobs cut off. Silence.
Then a shaky laugh. Weak. Embarrassed. Manufactured.
"Oh god." He covered his face. As if ashamed. As if this had all been accidental.
Owen blinked. Still confused. "Louis?"
"Sorry." A breath. Another. Louis forced moisture into his eyes. Made himself tremble. Not difficult. There was enough genuine emotion for that. "I just..." He laughed again. "I missed you."
Owen's expression softened immediately. Louis knew it would. "I missed you too."
God.
There it was again.
That warmth.
That love.
The thing Louis couldn't live without.
The thing that made all of this worth it.
"I know Legundo's letting me do this," Louis said quietly. "And I know I tell him all the time how grateful I am, but..." His voice cracked. Not entirely fake. "...sometimes it just hits me."
Owen's eyes grew wet. "Oh, Louis."
The vampire pulled him into a hug. Instantly. Without hesitation. Burying his face against Legundo's against Louis's chest.
The sensation nearly made him dizzy. Owen's arms wrapped around him.
Trusting.
Warm.
Safe.
"The doctor is great for doing this."
Louis froze. Only for a second. A tiny second. A second Owen didn't notice. His arms tightened around Owen. Just a little. Enough to feel. Not enough to hurt.
"Great," Louis repeated. The word tasted strange. Sharp. Bitter.
Owen nodded against him. "Yeah."
Louis smiled. A perfect smile. The kind Owen liked. The kind that hid everything. "Yeah."
Great.
That night, Owen went to town. The castle became quiet. Empty. Cold.
Louis hated it. Without Owen around, there was nothing to distract him from the truth. Nothing to distract him from the body.
The borrowed skin.
The mirror.
The eyes staring back.
Legundo's eyes.
Legundo's face.
Legundo's mouth.
Louis stood before the reflection. Studying it. Touching his own cheek. Watching someone else's hand move. He rested his forehead against the glass.
The reflection staring back wasn't his.
It hadn't been for a long time.
Sometimes he struggled to remember his own face.
Owen's hands on Legundo's shoulders.
Owen's smile directed at Legundo's eyes.
Owen burying his face against Legundo's chest.
Memory after memory after memory.
Louis collected them greedily. Kept them. Hoarded them. As though enough stolen moments could make something true.
"You almost told him today." His voice was quiet. Gentle. The sort of voice one used with frightened animals. "I know you did."
His fingers brushed the mirror. Tracing the outline of Legundo's cheek. "You wanted him to look at you." A small smile tugged at his mouth. "But what would that accomplish?"
He imagined Legundo glaring at him from somewhere behind his own eyes.
Angry.
Terrified.
Desperate.
Louis found the image strangely endearing. "Owen's happy." The words came quickly now. Like he was trying to convince someone. Maybe himself. "He's safe. He's smiling again."
His smile widened. "He hugs me." This body, a cruel part of him corrected. Louis ignored it.
"He loves me." The words slipped out before he realized he'd said them. Possessive. Devotional. Wrong. The mirror offered no argument. Louis laughed softly.
"Maybe you don't understand that." Louis tilted his head. "Maybe you never will." His hand flattened against the glass. "But you'll come around."
The certainty in his voice was frightening. Absolute.
"You always do." Another pause. “And if you don't..." Louis's smile softened. Somehow becoming worse. More sincere. "You'll stay anyway."
The room fell silent again. Legundo couldn't answer. Maybe he was screaming. Maybe he was crying. Maybe he had long since stopped doing either.
The thought made Louis smile faintly.
Louis would never know. They couldn't hear each other.
That was the tragedy of it.
The mercy of it.
Louis closed his eyes.
And imagined Owen's arms around him.
Imagined Owen's voice.
Imagined Owen choosing him.
Not the body.
Not the face.
Not the lie.
Just him.
Legundo could do nothing but watch as Louis stared into the mirror and smiled at a future only he could see.
dwag the excitement i felt when i saw the autopilot au‼️im totally not a sucker for possession in fanfic
had the idea of "hey what if leg's reflection in a mirror was his reflection, despite whatever louis was doing while piloting him" and this came out of it
course theres like no mirrors in oakhurst but still. stilllll uwu. maybe theres a few in the castle tucked away or something. maybe the reflection was normal until legs got turned. maybe only humans can see leg's "real" reflection.
anyways the initial drawing comp idea was from the mirror scene in van helsing, and theres a reference to a historical painting in here too if anybody spots it :D
OP, is this autopilot Legundo’s turning scene? Because the expression that Louis is wearing is making me want to both crawl out of my skin and punch my screen. Hard.
So, I don’t normally rec non-VSMP fics, but I figure that there is probably enough Hermitcraft/Life Series crossover with you guys that some of you might appreciate this one.
My friends, please allow me to draw your attention to The Incandescence of a Dying Light by the lovely @quaranmine!
Here’s the mile high view:
The year is 1989. Grian takes a job as a seasonal fire lookout in Shoshone National Forest — the same wilderness that his best friend Mumbo disappeared into the year before. Despite the intervening months and Mumbo’s increasingly grimmer prospects, Grian refuses to give up hope. If no one else will find Mumbo, he will.
Accompanied only by his determination and a lone voice on the radio (Scar), Grian works to unravel the mystery of Mumbo’s disappearance while also processing the enormity of his loss.
This is a powerful story. You know I love angst, and this one has it in spades. But the angst in this fic is quiet, it is heavy, and it is *earned*. TIOADL is, above all else, a story about grief — how we react to it, process it, and how it ripples through every facet of our lives. It is a story about friendship, both new and old. And it is a story set so firmly in place that even people who never experienced the 80s OR visited a national park will likely feel nostalgia for a time they’ve never known.
(Note: this fic is loosely based on the game Firewatch. Or at least the setting is. The author did a ton of additional research to make their own story come alive, and you don’t have to play the game to enjoy it. I hadn’t!)
Anyway. This is obviously a firm rec from me. It’s well-paced, gorgeously detailed and the writing is fantastic. Many of you have probably even read it before — I wouldn’t be surprised if I’m late to the party here!
I'm doing some cover mockups right now (yes, I am binding this thing into a real book), and am having trouble choosing between these two.
The dark one would have silver foiling on the lettering and flowers, the right one would have black lettering (though I might add watercolor to those flowers, or try to shadow the title in silver foil). The blackbird is going to be inset on silver cardstock (not a mirror finish) and is the same in both.
The gray on the spine and corners will be book cloth, and that is the best approximation of the color I have. I will also be adding silver corner details if I have the patience.
hello badalloc, i feel like every few weeks i come to your inbox with music and then run away into the woods again lol 😭 anyway, not to be textbook Mcyt Crane Wives Fan #2799 but metaphor has me rotating sg!louis around in my brain again,,,,, he really really breaks my heart i need you to know you’ve passed the blorbo disease onto myself and many others
MOUSE.
Oh my GODS 😭😭😭😭😭
Ok, first of all I feel like *I* have to apologize for not being a very good Life Series/VSMP fan because I don't actually listen to the Crane Wives much.
(I'm sorry)
(I just haven't fallen down their rabbit hole yet, but I can feel myself slowly circling the drain. I am probably going to crash HARD into them at some point in the near future and it is not going to be pretty)
HOWEVER! This means that when you guys send me a Crane Wives song, I am almost 100% guaranteed to be getting introduced to it in that moment. Which means that I had no defenses whatsoever from the brick you just hurled through my window.
"I've gotten good at leaning on metaphors
I've gotten good at living on someone else's page"
"I've gotten good at making up metaphors
I've gotten good at stretching the truth out of shape"
"DON'T LOOK TOO HARD 'CAUSE YOU WON'T LIKE THE SCARS HE LEFT IN ME"
😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭
(The gasp I GUSP when that line came on screen. Holy HELL. I am not recovering from this song any time soon)
ALSDJFAKDSJFLKAJHWERLKSHRGLFKNADSLFKM
Anyway. Please send me songs whenever you like. They are precious to me and I am putting them all on a playlist and listening to them forever. I promise I will get back to writing Louis one of these days, just slowly recovering from the burnout by doing some other arts/crafts.
Making myself laugh at the idea of a louis possessing legs AU but they both have the whole 'miles to go before I sleep' type suicidal tendencies so it's just
Louis: How am I here? What's going on
Legs: Oh, the ghost of Owen's saint of a beloved. He deserves to live more than I do.
Louis: What
Owen: Yeah you should fuck off and let Louis have this chance
Louis: But this is your life. You should live it.
Legs: I'm a monster you should live it more.
Louis: No, I'm a monster. You deserve your own life. You should live it. I had my chance
Legs: And I've done terrible things with that life. I should give it to you.
Louis: Owen please help argue this man into valuing his own life
Owen: Why
In other words: it turns out Owen has a type and it's passively suicidal and on a quest for redemption. No one is happy about this, least of all him.
Legs and Louis taking turns explaining slowly, *painfully* to Owen the full depth of their Crimes Against Humanity in an effort to get him to See Reason.
Hah! I can absolutely see Legs and Louis ending up in some sort of delicate custody agreement where they each take turns with the body in order to keep Owen from going on another murder spree. Sort of like a "two dads from Kung Fu Panda" situation, but more fucked up.
Guess who pushed aside her finals to get another louis bat done in about a day
I dont know who that could be, but now theres suddenly two of them ups
We-ell, it could be *Scott* (cracks me up to think of Scott's bat being smaller than Louis'), or it could be Louis as a much younger vampire perhaps. Either way, the little guy is so cute ^_^
A/N: Heya, I bring an offering of another ficlet for @vampostingtime 's autopilot au (it's just so much fun!) this time based around a 'what-if' of one uhhh potential 'solution' to get the town off Louis & Owen's back over the whole possession thing :)
.
"The town is becoming restless."
Owen drops into the castle courtyard, where Louis sits minding the chickens. The birds don't really need watching – that was their one benefit, given animals' natural unease around the undead – but Louis seems to prefer the outside (the daylight) and there are precious few places Owen feels safe in letting his still-mortal Louis roam.
A human foible, perhaps.
"There's talk of rescuing the doctor," Owen continues.
Louis, for his part, seems only mildly affected by the news. He tilts his head, a motion Owen knows well, but it sits strangely on the doctor's shoulders. "Shame. I had thought..." His lips twist, the only sign of dissatisfaction. "I had hoped they might understand."
"Understand?" Owen echoes. "No one's ever understood, only you, and they – they're talking of killing you."
"People will always talk," Louis says.
"And when they stop talking, they will strike," growls Owen. "I won't let them take you, they won't hurt you, not again–"
Louis takes Owen's hands, and the shape is all wrong – too broad, too scarred, too callused – but the gentleness is still the same. Louis holds him as if he's fine china, as if Owen is something precious, something almost too beautiful to touch. He brushes a tender thumb across Owen's knuckles.
"People fear what they do not understand," Louis replies, and he's so patient, so kind, even after everything humanity has put him through. "Do not hold it against them, my love."
Louis offers a smile, and it has been... strange for Owen to see his lover through another's face. Louis' expressions don't quite sit right on the doctor – it's like the face has all grown wrong, navigating ill-learnt muscle memory, and fitting tautly around the scar.
And yet... and yet that soft, fond smile is still the same. It is the kind that faces – or seems to face – the whole eternal world in an instant, and then concentrate on its beneficiary with an irresistible prejudice in their favour. It understands just as far as one wants to be understood, believes in one as one would like to believe in themselves, and assures that it has precisely the impression that one, at their best, hopes to convey.
Owen feels a chirp, one half of the call-and-response between sire and fledgling, form at the back of his throat. "Louis, if they come for you–"
"They won't harm me," and Louis sounds so sure. As if humans haven't once before–
Owen cuts off the thought before it can form.
No. Never again.
"Even if they do not care for me, they will not harm the doctor," Louis continues. His hand moves from Owen's hands to his cheek, and Owen leans into the contact. "They are not monsters, my love."
"They have their books," Owen says. "Mysterious tomes granting holy powers. Who's to say one won't be the ability to banish dead spirits?"
Louis' hand, which had been running soothing circles along Owen's jaw, falters. "Have they found any such books?"
"There are ones on curing vampirism," and Owen briefly allows his distaste for the concept that he needs curing, as if he's sick, to colour his tone. "What if there's another for possession? What if the cure for vampirism works as well on spirits?"
Louis is silent. Owen focuses on that familiar tilt of the head, because otherwise Louis looks too much like the doctor, puzzling over yet another failed cure attempt.
He doesn't know why it makes his stomach twist.
Then, "Perhaps we should give them what they want."
Owen's stomach definitely churns then, and he has to remind himself that Louis is still human, before his sudden grip on Louis' hand can break bones. "No."
Louis gently unfurls his hold. "I meant only that they might see what they want," he explains softly.
"What do you mean?"
"I have lived within this body for weeks, my love," Louis says. "I have seen him with the town, and with the vampires, and in the privacy of his own home. I have known him as long as anyone else within these woods, and better besides. It would be easy enough to... act the part."
Owen laughs then, because it is absurd. Even accounting for their shared face, the idea that anyone could mistake Louis for that sorry excuse of a doctor is unimaginable.
And then, Louis recedes.
His posture breaks – no longer the well-trained poise, but the slant of a man too accustomed to making himself smaller – and that smile, that warm, perfect smile, is gone behind a shutter of resignation. The eyes are not... They're not cold, exactly, but the unwavering love has gone, and only grief remains.
Grief, and guilt...
And trust.
"The body remembers, Owen," and Louis might have borrowed the doctor's voice, but it is Legs that Owen can hear now. The intonations, inflections, the tired humour; even the way he says Owen's name is pitch-perfect. "And I have watched the doctor for so long. Do you really think they'll be able to tell the difference?"
"Change back," Owen says, his voice suddenly tight. It's not the right words, because Louis hasn't really changed anything, he's still right there, he's just wearing the doctor's skin a little closer, but still... "Change back."
Louis unfolds back into the doctor's body, and it's like going from dusk to dawn. The hand that Owen had – unbidden – flinched from, now curls lovingly into Owen's hair. "I apologise, my love. It did not occur to me that it might cause you distress. I should have warned you. But now, perhaps, you see our opportunity."
Something twists in Owen's gut, something gritty rattling through him, in ways he cannot fully understand.
"Surely, there must be other ways," he says, eventually, when the unnamed emotion has whittled away to a manageable speck. "Easier ways."
"This is the easier way," Louis says. He hesitates, in that odd way which is neither his manner nor the doctor's, and when he next speaks, the words sound as if they're intended for more than just Owen. "This might avoid the need for bloodshed. For war."
"I don't care."
"It would only be for a little while," Louis promises. "Once the barrier is down, we shall all go our separate ways, and then... well, there would be no need for deceit."
"They might not believe you."
Louis runs the doctor's blunt-nailed hand through Owen's hair. "You believed it, did you not?"
"Yes, but..."
"And the town wants to believe," Louis continues. "People see what they want to see, my love."
.
A/N: I don't have plans atm to follow this up; I just wanted to throw out into the world a way to make this even more emotionally messy for everyone (especially Owen) involved.
