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hypocriticaltypwriter · 4 months

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🩵❝𝐘𝐨𝐮 𝐀𝐫𝐞 𝐌𝐲 𝐒𝐮𝐧𝐬𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐞.❞💙

@ria-coolgirl really inspired me with this idea and I HAD to write it super quick cause when I tell you I CRIED the first time I read ittt 😭😭 THAT LITTLE IDEA DID SOMETHING TO ME OK???

The cave was filled with silence. A peaceful lull than what it was used to, filled with noises of the little coven had resided, only the sound of crashing waves and rain outside the ruins of the hotel.

Deep into the rafters, however, it seemed one body was still awake. Paul laid on his stomach, deep blue eyes on the small baby that lay caged in his arms, gaze held intently, almost as though completely enamored by his own kin. Her little hand wrapped around his large finger, her big green eyes closed and hidden from his own behind her bright blonde lashes as she slept soundly, little snores followed by the rise and fall of her chest, something she didn't even need to survive, but the sight made his heart melt, her tiny figure secure in the safety of his lean forearms, swaddled lasily in a baby blue blanket.

The small tufts of crazy blonde hair like his own on her Itty bitty head, her chubby little body snuggling or tossing and turning to find any other warm in daddy's embrace, causing him a few adoring coos to leave passed pursed lips.

His long pointer finger grazing over her cheek made her stir just a bit, but she stayed sleeping soundly, almost moving carefully so the cold metal of his rings wouldn't make any contact to disturb her warmth. His sharp nail barely and gently ran against the soft skin of her cheek, careful not to make a sudden move that'd caused his talon-like nails to prick her skin. Stroking rosy bunches of chub starting from her chin all the way up to her temple.

It wasn't a disturbing sensation, it was so feather-like you'd think it was a dull hum in the back of your brain, a soft tickle in a dream, a touch you'd feel in vulnerable moments of your life that would cease tears or silence cries. It was a touch Paul had yearned for in his younger years from his own mother or father. A touch made with tenderness and love.

And he'd only felt such a way long in his eternal life, when he held his baby girl for the first time, when he heard her cry for him, or when she'd nurse from his thumb as a way to peacefully fall asleep, or her little sobs would calm the second she heard his voice in the unknown and darkness. He never thought he could feel so human when he was only a monster.

It seemed the sudden cracking of lighting startled the both of them. Echoing off the cave walls and it made Paul visibly jump - his fingers retracting into a fist. But it was too late. The sudden movement of his finger left an effect on his actions.

The gently tracing of his fingernail swiftly left a cut along the cheek of Tiffany, nothing too deep, but it began to grow visible with redness and the faintest trail of blood. She startled awake, mimicking Paul's jump, but her little body merely had the momentum of a flinch, her big, green eyes going big as saucers when she was taken from her sudden slumber to a stinging sensation on her cheek. Her small mouth parted as if to question what had happened.

Paul watched as the scratch slowly grew a vibrant red, like a strike of a wip to skin. His breath hitched, and he felt his heart drop into the pit of his stomach. It was the worst thing he could do: panic.

Tiffany's eyes slowly began to go glassy, and big tears fogging her doe-like orbs. Her little bottom lip quivered into a pout when she saw the shock and horror on her daddy's face.

Shushing and panicked whispers soon followed, a desperate Paul trying to calm a storm brewing that caused him more anxiety than the one outside. He carefully crept a hand beneath the back of her neck, the other fitted under her body, lifting her up carefully while sitting to his knees, holding her slightly away from him so he was able to inspect her. "Oh, don't cry, baby, please don't start..."

She let out a soft wail, rubbing her little fist into the slight cut to try and ease or remove the small sting it left on her.

Something about her cry made it more heartbreaking than the others, like she was confused about why her daddy thought to do this or if he'd done it on purpose. If he'd meant to hurt her.

In that moment, that thought consideration killed him inside more than stabbing him with a stake right then and there.

His large thumb ran over her face, swiping away tears from her thick wet lashes as she continued to cry, feeling him try to soothe her cut, cooing and shushing her softly. She continued to sob and whimper, opening her big eyes to gaze up at him, all glassy and puffy. It made a coil around his chest tighten, unable to fight the way his face twisted into something akin to the same expression he was seeing in front of him.

"Daddy didn't mean to." He whispered softly, bringing her close to him, his nose brushing through her whispy hairs. "He didn't mean to hurt you, sunshine." He rocked his slightly hunched body, kissing her cheek like pressing his lips to a porcelain doll. Tasting the bitter texture of tears against his lips, a prick of guilt pulling at his skin with each peck left to her face as though he could work some sort of magic and heal it with his touch.

Her wailing had reduced to hiccups and whimpers, but it was still a sound Paul never wanted to hear, a sound of fear and confusion, her eyes still so big and wide as if she was scared if him. Scared of her own father.

"Oh, please don't look at me like that, sunshine." He was pleading with an infant. A creature unable to even understand his words or notice the desperation he had in finding forgiveness from her. He now used his knuckle, cautious if the now sensitive skin, as he used the joint to stroke her cheek comfortingly. "I hate that look.."

Just when he thought he could he more than the thing he'd become. When he thought this little bit of hope - this little creature in his arms could heal a loneliness that ached in his chest cavity, he had done the thing he always did. He fucked up. He always fucked up. He could never keep anything safe and precious, clean and pure. He always had to break it, he always had to curse it with his touch, hurt and shatter it the moment it was placed in his hand. He had to act like a Monster.

He felt a tenderness grow in his throat, making it hard to swallow without it hurting. That tight feeling in his chest felt hot, pulsing through his skin and making it hurt. The guilt made him sick in his stomach. He'd stared off into space, frozen and unable to even aid his own daughter. Cause that's he always did. He always ran away when he'd felt like this when he'd been hurt. That's all he was good for.

Run away, Paul. That's all you're good for.

He was barely drawn away from his clouded mind by a mere tug, a slight pull. His eyes fluttered to focus, his gaze on the cavern wall slowly falling back to the small infant in his arms again. The slight sensation of growing fangs gnawing at the skin of his knuckle caused his finger to twitch, but not enough to pull away, watching as she carefully suckled on his finger.

Her tear stained face and small sniffles were pitiful, but she didn't cower from him, she didn't cry for her mother, and she didn't cry for him to run away. She felt safe, she felt comforted to ease back into a safety she knew she could always and only find in his arms.

He watched as those big eyes got heavy, fighting to stay awake, and it was almost as though an instinct he'd waited so long for kicked in.

He tried oh so carefully to shift himself into a criss-cross-legged position, shushing gently the whole time while shifting her into a position against his chest, making her he held her the way he'd been taught and told how many times before, slowly rocking himself side to side, feeling the way her little body grew heavier, and her weak little hold on his finger loosened.

He felt a quiet hum vibrate in his chest, slowly rising to his throat in a quiet tune of 'You Are My Sunshine' sung weakly, so quiet his voice cracked with the higher notes, unable to carry them in the vulnerable state he was in, but no one cared. His little one didn't seem to care for the lack of performance. If anything, he felt a flutter in his chest the way she nuzzled against his inframmary, enjoying the low hum with both the sensation and sound.

He continued to sing, he didn't know for how long, but it continued till he saw those eyes finally give in, and close, and her jaw go slack against his knuckle, her little fingers still wrapped loosely around his one he refused to pull away even still.

He'd always run away before. He'd ran away from everyone and everything that turned into something he couldn't control. But now, he had a problem cause the next time he'd run away and hide in the dark, little feet would follow behind and pull him right back. Pull him back to the light.

He tugged the blue blanket closer and tighter around her, keeping her secure in a warmth his own body could never give. Leaning down to place a kiss to her forehead, not a kiss of apology, or out of guilt like the many earlier, but a kiss of thanks. A thanks for healing that ache in his chest, the loneliness I'm his soul.

Thank you for being my sunshine.

🩵----🩵

I to, was not safe from the baby fever... 😔✊️

[🍒🦇Likes and reblogs appreciated!!🦇🍒]

#🍒daily dose of cherry🍒#the lost boys #tlb #the lost boys 1987 #tlb 1987 #fruitbats🦇🍒#tlb paul #the lost boys paul #paul the lost boys #tlg au #the lost girls #tlg tiffany #Oh you guys are gonna HATE me #ITS 2:20 AM CURRENTLY IM ON MY PERIOD LETS GET THIS ANGSTY ENERGY GOINNN

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skitskatdacat63 · 4 months

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And here is the bull himself >:)

+ lore notes

I was like, ah I should make the shadow something interesting, and then I'm like GIVE HIM BULL HORNS???? OKAY SURE !!!!! I'm glad such thoughts can strike at 7 in the morning....thanks brain. But hehehe I'm glad bcs now this matches up super well with the Nando one!

New ship dynamic: who's the bull and who's the matador :)

I think, in this AU, Fernando is generally pretty fond of Seb when he first meets him. Like "ah yes my very own protégé, very nice, I shall mold him in my image." But then Seb starts veering off that course. Bullfighting is all about being dramatic, but Seb maybe has a bit too much(🤏) flair for the dramatic. This escalation starts while he's still Fernando's assistant but he keeps it generally at bay. But god when he becomes a matador himself, he's just off the rails insane.

Bullfighting, to me, is a sport about reckless endangerment of one's self in the pursuit of drama and performance(its literally described as a tragedy in three acts.) But Fernando thinks Seb endangers himself *too* much, not because he cares or anything, but he's making a mockery of the sport!! Especially when Seb starts doing that bull hand symbol(seen above), Fernando just keeps become more enraged with him, not anything to do with the fact that Seb is threatening his records and threatening his own wellbeing, nah of course not.

Seb's gesture is making a mockery of the sport, he's disrespecting the culture, the very nature of it, blah blah blah. Jenson once asks Fernando, after noticing him seething while watching Seb do his gesture, "Which bull are you really trying to defeat?" One could also describe Fernando and Seb's relationship as a "tragedy with three acts."

Anyways Fernando gets very tied up with this rivalry. Even after suffering a severe injury(I have yet to decide, but y'know mchonda electrocution core), he quickly returns to the sport, loath to let Seb get any more headway. And then Seb gets injured, poor little sweet Seb, and neither of them can handle it. Though I already covered this in my prev lore post 🤭 and I think I put it pretty viscerally there so!! I digress.

They're both matadors, but the bull itself is not the only bull Fernando wants to conquer. Conquer as in death? Hm.