#ch: dai sol
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affinno · 2 years ago
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Orion and Dai Sol
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transitranger327 · 7 months ago
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Spin the Thread, Weave the Story: Ch. 1, Holding On
Oshecki fans, here’s the fix-it au you’ve been waiting for. I promise there will be more chapters because I love these two.
Summary: Jecki Lon faces her most desperate moment. Osha Aniseya tries to recall her past training. Can they survive? MASSIVE spoilers for Episode 5 of The Acolyte
Osha Aniseya woke up to a shock. It felt like hours had passed. Instinctively, she checked her chrono, but it was missing somehow. Also, she was wearing her sister’s clothes. “Kriff, she’s doing something stupid. I hope Master Sol can tell us apart. For his sake,” but before spiraling entirely, she took a deep breath, and reached out with the Force. No Mae, no Sol, no Jecki, no Qimir, no Yord, no Ithia, no Bazil. Everyone had either left or died. Figures, that she would be left behind, alone. She silently commended those that had passed on to the Force, those whose echoes remained, and wept for friends lost, Yord and Jecki especially. Yord had been her best friend in the Order, and Jecki had immediately found a place in her heart. But as she got up to leave and find transportation, she tripped over the faintest thread, “Wait, kriff, Jecki is still here. Barely. I need to find her.” And the former Jedi sprinted off to find her friend. 
“There she is.” Osha saw a body with three separate lightsaber stab wounds. If Jecki Lon wasn’t practically dead, she would’ve looked peacefully asleep. Beautiful, even. The thread Jecki was holding onto was so thin it was practically a single fiber. “Stars, she hasn’t learned how to let go.” Many Jedi would’ve called this a failing, but others would say that giving up on life was the bigger failing. Either way, it might’ve just saved her life. Well, if Osha could remember how to heal. “If only PIP was here…” She regretted not having any first aid on hand. “Oh who am I kidding, PIP wouldn’t be able to patch up lightsaber stabs anyway.” She had to admire the efficiency of the cuts; they were clearly the work of someone trying to kill. She remembered learning, at the Temple, where to stab people in places that could be healed with bacta and time. But no, she had no bacta, no time, and the wounds were fatal. And her Force healing was so rusty, you could practically mix it with pinestill to create red paint. Still, she did her best to remember the silent invocations. “I am one with the Force and…”, but Jecki’s wounds did not close up. And her connection to the material world slipped even further. Then Osha remembered one of Auntie Eurus’ lessons after accidentally killing a spider. 
“The Thread connects all things, not just the living. If you can find their strand, you can spin it back into the Thread of the Living.” Her auntie had a talent for tipping the scales between life and death. “But remember, you need to use your connection. The spider eats the flies that bite us. The spider feeds the birds that sing for us. You must focus on these feelings to revive another.”
And so Osha reached deep into her soul to find connection to Jecki. The teachings of Master Sol. The laughing at Yord’s extreme formality. How quickly they fell into a rhythm with each other. The comments they made to each other that bordered on flirtation. “Oh…do I have feelings for her?” So she began pouring her heart into the rudimentary revival spell she managed to assemble, augmented with the few Force Healing techniques she was confident in. Between the silent incantations, a loud whisper emerged from her lips, “Jecki Lon, I am NOT losing you.” 
The pull of the cosmic force grew stronger every second. The call to rejoin the song of creation. All things emerged from it, and all must return to it some day. But she still had so much to learn, so much to say, she didn’t want to go yet. And then Jecki felt it: the warm smile she hadn’t seen enough yet, the flirting she had fallen for, the braids that looked incredibly beautiful, the sense of humor that just felt right. Osha Aniseya was holding out a hand into the void, and she was not planning on saying no. 
“It’s working! It’s working!” The thread between them was spun stronger by the second. Osha felt the Living Force pulsing in her veins, with an intensity she hadn’t felt in years. The sheer magnitude of it threatened to drag both of them underwater, but she had managed to anchor herself to the forest. “No one else has to die today” had become her new mantra. She could sense Jecki’s fragile pull, like a climber trying to crimp her way up a cliff face. “Take my hand.” The padawan was able to latch onto Osha before her tendons broke. Together, they were strong enough to remain in the Living Force; and they knew, somehow, that Jecki’s wounds were starting to heal. Organs regenerating, bones knitting together, muscles and sinew reattaching. She took a few, shallow breaths for the first time in hours, with a faintly beating heart. 
The Cosmic Force was no longer pulling them. The self-sustaining nature of life was now working in their favor. Life, after all, goes on. 
But Osha was now feeling the toll of her actions. Force healing required giving of your own vitality, as did the revival spell she was attempting. As her connection to Jecki grew stronger, her grasp on consciousness weakened. She tried staying awake for as long as she could, tho she feared collapsing from exhaustion. Then, she sensed Jecki…stabilize,, just like,,, a barely functional……replacement part………in a,,,,,,,,junker………
Jecki Lon woke up to a shock. Immense pain radiated from her chest and torso. The cold air blowing across unprotected flesh. She took inventory of all her body parts: “head, check. arms, check. legs, check. lightsaber, check. torso, three large burns.” And a strange weight rested on her rib cage. “Wait that’s Osha’s head.” The pain was too much for her brain to contemplate what happened, but a small smile crept onto her face as her crush was gently sleeping on her. “Maybe…I just need more sleep.” were her last thoughts as she once again drifted into unconsciousness. 
Tagging the people who reblogged my original post about writing this: @osha-and-jecki @thatchmanger @bravetigerwildwolf @jazzforthesoul @echosdaffodil @darthmatthewtwihard
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becauseimanicequeen · 8 months ago
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A couple of days ago, I decided to start reading Professional Body Double, which My Stand-In is based on. My aim was/is to read the chapters for each episode that's released (because I still don't want spoilers).
Other stuff got in the way, though, but I finished reading ch 20 last night (which is just around the end of the 2nd episode since the series seems to include 10 ch in each ep so far).
Anyway, I only have one comment at this point...
Seeing how annoying Lan Xi Rong (the character Sol is based on) is in the novel and how shitty he treated Zhou Xiang (Joe) in the past (I won't spoil it for those who haven't read it), I'm wondering why they "sanitized" him a bit in the series (at least thus far).
Maybe it would've been too much to have yet another annoying/assholish character in the series? Or perhaps they just omitted that piece of backstory because it won't matter to the story MSI wants to tell?
With that said, though, I do still feel like Lan Xi Rong's general vibe is translated well into Sol because I've felt iffy about Sol since the start, ever since he implied that he came back to Thailand because he craved the safety of Joe (compared to everyone else who approached Sol to take advantage of him). He also shows up around Joe all the time (dare I say he's feeling a bit stalker-ish?) so there is an annoying side to Sol as well.
I know they're not completely the same character (since adaptations are only adaptations, even though MSI is quite true to PBD as far as I've watched and read) so Sol might not end up being as annoying and shitty as Lan Xi Rong is (at least as far as I've come in the novel at the moment). But I'm still glad my intuition works on fictional characters as well (lol).
Anyway... I'm hoping to read the remaining chapters (up until where the 4th episode of MSI ended) before the 5th episode is released tomorrow. And then I'll read the novel in tandem with what happens in the episodes (unless I start to see bigger changes in MSI compared to the source material and put a pause on the novel to avoid spoilers/enjoy the series as is).
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alexquisites-blog · 4 months ago
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|Tempest Unleashed- Chapter 2: 2019|
Years Ago
Charlotte was already up and awake as she was setting up everything for the big day ahead as she saw Kate awake and grabbed her camera as Charlotte grabbed her's before standing besides Kate and the two of them snapped a few quick photos of the system ahead of them. The two looked at each other before doing a tornado spin with their index fingers and began heading back to the site behind them Kate went to Jeb and the others to wake them up as Charlotte was looking everything to make sure it was perfect as Kate went to the van and honked the horn.
"Storm's here guys let's go!" Kate announced as Maya walked her way over to her cousin. 
"Nah, nah, I got way too hard last night." Javi complained.
"Javi, get up, come on!" Kate yelled as she went to pull  his sleeping bag over his head.
"You should really listen to her man. She's on it today." Charlotte chuckled, sipping her coffee.
"Come on, why are you on her side? I need more sleep." He groaned as Charlotte walked over and smiled. 
"Because I feel today is going to our best shot at doing this, and Kate agrees." Charlotte crossed her arms.
"It's so early, just a few more minutes. It won't hurt." He groaned.
"Nope, and now I'm stealing this." She grabbed the sleeping back before stuffing it back in the van.
"Ugh, fine." He said getting up.
**
As Kate was recording her video with Jeb recording, Charlotte was helping her brother with Dorothy.
"The Doppler doesn't show a storm until the afternoon." Praveen said. 
"Well, the data doesn't see what Kate sees." Addy explained.
"And that's for a fact, Kate sees it all." Charlotte popped up.
"How about Kate sees a few more hours of sleep?" Javi suggested.
"Nope, sorry you're going to have to live off of what you have for today." 
"Praveen. What are you doing? Dorothy's not a desk." Javi explained as Praveen took the computer off of Dorothy.
"She's very special." She said, patting the container. "And helped us beat that son of a bitch Jonas." She muttered to herself getting a small flashback to when she was in her preteens. "Fashionably late again, Jonas? Fashionably late! Gimmie kiss, baby!"  Before she continued working.
"Come on. Get in. Get in!" Kate was guiding everyone to get into the camera frame as they all got in. "Ready? Do you know what today is?"
"The day we save a tornado!" Charlotte, Javi, Praveen, Addy, and Jeb all yell at one.
"I'm going to yak first." Javi walked off. 
"I'll make sure he doesn't yak too much." Charlotte chuckled, patting his back.
**
Later the group began driving towards the system that was ahead of them. Javi and Charlotte were in the van softly singing Salio El Sol by Don Omar and snacking on Hot Cheetos.
"Do you see the coloring? It's beautiful!" Charlotte called out, trying to get a good view of the clouds.
"Yeah, yeah, I see it." Javi said as he grabbed the radio. "Alright, how are we getting this thing? Me and Charlotte need a southwest position to read the sensors."
"Yeah I'm coming right up." Jeb spoke into the radio as they turned right. 
"I call next song." She said, grabbing her phone and picking Vivir Mi Vida by Marc Anthony.
"Ooo okay Charlotte go perfect choice." Javi smiled, driving down the road as she was singing her heart out until the group stopped on the side of the road to work on the mixture.
"There she is!" Javi called out.
"She's looking mighty big and strong." She said following him and gave him the computer as the two walked up to Addy continuously pushing the button to open Dorothy.
"Hey, gentle, gentle, light." Javi requested as Javi hit it. 
"Hey, she didn't need that." Charlotte pushed his hand away.
"Whatever, now try." Javi requested Addy, pushed, it didn't work. "Usually, it works."
"Apparently, she just needs some talking to, don't you girl, you will get this data." Charlotte said as Addy tried pushing it again. "Never mind then..." 
"This thing is so old." 
"Hey!" Charlotte muttered.
"I mean, it's old, but it's field tested. Charlotte was literally there when it started back in the day."
"See!" Charlotte exclaimed.
"You know, unlike Kate's science project over here."
"Javi has a point." Charlotte muttered. 
"It's our science project." Praveen explained.
"There's no time, Charlotte, Javi. If Dorthy's not working, then forget the data, okay? We'll worry about it later." Kate said.
"Forget the data -"
"It's not going to wait for us, Javi... Charlotte." 
"Kate... Jeb, the data is a crucial part, me and Javi both need this." Charlotte crossed her arms a little upset. "Data is the most important piece out of storm chasing."
"There's a death rate setting in. Look both of you. This is probably our last chase of the season." 
Charlotte put her hands up. "You know what it's equally as important." She muttered, containing her emotions.
"No matter what, we gotta get these barrels in the air and see if they can make a tornado vanish, okay? It's more important." Kate explained as Charlotte takes a deep breath, putting her hands on her sides.
"No, how about that it's equally as important, we do both right?" Javi suggested.
"Exactly!" Charlotte jumps in.
"If you make a tornado vanish with this, but you don't get the data with this. Who's gonna believe it?"
"No one guys. That's the answer they'll just think it's some stupid thing with the air or whatever." She said as Addy pushed the button again and it opened. 
"Oh, got it!" Addy exclaimed as Charlotte grabbed a sensor and gave it a quick kiss for good luck before putting it back in.
"Fine, the two best cousins better get us that data. Whatever we need to win a big fat grand." Kate exclaimed before Charlotte began to make her way over to the van as she watched the four drive off as Javi joined Charlotte in the van. 
"Alright here we go, I feel today's gonna be the day." She smiled.
"Agreed." Javi said nodding watching the radar with Charlotte on his side.
The two are in the van watching the computers as a radio comes through from Addy. "Javi, Charlotte. How's Dorothy's GPS?"
"Coming and loud a clear." Javi said as Charlotte grabbed the walkie talkie
"It's definitely some system just be careful guys." Charlotte said before giving it back as she got up a few minutes later and grabbed a snack before throwing one to Javi as he smiled. "Anything from them yet?"
"Nope not yet." Javi said as he opened his bag and began to snack as so did Charlotte as another few minutes past.
"Okay we dropped the trailer." Kate said through the radio. 
"Alright this better work." Charlotte said nervous.
"Now let's see if it takes the bait." Javi added as moments later data was showing. "Woo Baby!" He said high-fiving her. "We just shot up 10,000 feet." 
"Hell yeah!" Charlotte screamed.
"It's rising 30,000 feet." Javi radioed.
"Javi it's not weaking..." She said before getting up getting the other computer. "Shit, shit."
"Dorothy can't tell you that..." He explained as Charlotte panicked.
"Tell you what?"
"If the wind speeds are wearing. 40,000 feet, your tornado isn't shrinking Kate. 50,000 feet."
"Javi they need to get out of there as soon as possible this isn't good." 
"This isn't right." Javi said before trying to go do something.
"Yeah no shit! Wait what are you doing?" She watched him as Addy's voice was repeating.
"Guys, talk to us. Talk to us. Talk to us."
"Sensor's just shot up 70,000." Javi radioed as Charlotte looked at him.
"Tell them they need to get out of there quick!" Charlotte said nervous.
"Guys whatever is in there it's big and it's moving fast. Drive. Get the hell out of there!" 
"Like now, just go! Go!" Charlotte radioed after Javi as she stood close to him anxiously. 
"Repeat you guys get out of there!" He radioed but no response. "Kate!" Javi looked at Charlotte.
"Shit, why aren't they saying anything!?" Charlotte panicked. "Guys!" She tears up holding onto her cousin. 
"They probably found somewhere to take cover, I don't know look we just have to sit it out." He said keeping her close. "I know we want to know what's going on but we just have to wait."
As the storm passed after a few minutes, they pulled up Dorothy's radar before driving along the route to find Kate and the others. As Charlotte and Javi were driving, they saw the SUV flipped all broken on the side of the road as Javi was rubbing Charlotte's shoulder. The two parked the car due to debris covering the road as there was a cop car and a blonde girl. Charlotte instantly recognized it was Kate before she ran over with Javi behind.
"Kate thank God your okay, where's the others?" Charlotte asked hugging Kate slowly.
"T-they didn't make it, they're all gone, and it's my fault." She said in tears.
"Kate, it isn't your fault. You didn't know it was going to become an F5." Javi adds.
"I can't do this anymore..." Kate looked at the two cousins.
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wastemanjohn · 1 year ago
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You KNEW my prompt was gonna include pregnancy lmao but I’m gonna say samdean accidental pregnancy — your choice if Dean or Deanna, your choice which season but I wanna see Dean(na) confessing to Sam that s/he’s knocked up!
here you go mate <3 (sorry for sneaking my deanna and david bowie headcanon in here but i had reason to believe you wouldn't mind xD - and exploring this pushed me nicely out of my comfort zone so thank you for the prompt!)
The skies over the salvage yard are pink with shepherd's delight clouds.  The evening breeze has a little bite, and the air smells like rotting oil and dead leaves. The latter scent is one Sam associates with shoplifting school supplies, with the good coffee shops opening up on campus again. It's an awkward nostalgia, but it comes to him anyway as he buttons up his shirt for warmth and makes a start on staking out the boulevard of broken cars, armed with two bottles of El Sol and a mental note of all the phrases he's learned not to say. Deanna's gotta be out here somewhere.
The thing is, Sam thinks as he passes the nearly restored Impala, it had seemed like his sister was doing a little better. She's still sharp tongued and irritable, but she's not been spending 12 hours a day doing god knows what under that hood. She's been hanging out with Sam and Bobby more in the evenings, not really saying much, but sometimes she smiles with her whole face at something someone says, and Sam's always a little surprised at the force of his relief. She's even been talking a bit about getting out on the road again, even if she never directly mentions Dad; but Sam's caught her quietly leafing through his journal now and then lately. Not that he's said anything about it, because that's just asking for trouble; and anyway, regardless of any improvement, Sam still has no idea what's going on in Deanna's head, really. She feels very far away.
She went out this afternoon. For hours. Didn't say where she was going; but it's got to be the first time she's left Bobby's place in weeks. She left her phone behind on the nightstand, in this way that Sam couldn't help but suspect was intentional, because there had to be something about that; had to be something in the way Deanna caught Sam's eye through the window as she was coming back, coming all slow down the path with Dad's jacket over her shoulders and this tight expression on her face. Something in the way Deanna had sharply changed direction at the sight of him, veering off until she faded into the salvage yard and Sam couldn't see her anymore. And it's not that Sam meant to be hovering near the front of the house at the exact moment of her return like a worried parent, but shit happens.
Let her be, son, Bobby had said, without looking up from his scotch and that leatherbound demonology book he'd been annotating all day. Harder you push, the more she's gonna clam up.
It bothers Sam when Bobby talks like that, like he knows Deanna better than Sam does or something. As for letting her be - well, if Bobby knows Sam at all, he's got a strange way of showing it.
As Sam goes deeper into the yard, he can hear music. Tinny, faint; but Sam recognizes David Bowie. He spent enough time being subjected to every single tape the guy ever made, even the really out there ones, over and over again as a kid to know that voice anywhere. That had been one of Deanna's more intense phases. Sam thinks she finds him comforting now, maybe; familiar, well worn, like an old blanket. She'd deny that, of course, the way she always denies shit that she thinks sounds girly, or maybe just vulnerable - but it hadn't been lost on Sam over the past year, how Deanna would play those tapes during nearly every overnight drive they took. Her hands always a little too tight on the steering wheel, Dad's unknown whereabouts breathing down the backs of their neck like a spirit.
Sam follows that bustling piano, ch-ch-changes, until he finds his sister. She's sitting on the floor, leaning against the dented door of an eighties truck with a mangled hood. The windows are down. The music is coming from inside.
Dad's jacket is so big over Deanna's shoulders. It practically drowns her, looks kind of ridiculous, if Sam were to be mean about it; still smells like Dad's cigarettes. Deanna doesn't look up, when Sam approaches, but she doesn't hide her face or snipe at him to fuck off either. Which means this is already going well.
"Hey." Sam says it cautiously. "What are you doing out here?" 
Her eyes roll up at him. "Making bacon and eggs, jackass. What's it look like I'm doing?"
Sam doesn't know, actually. Still, he takes the sarcasm on the chin. He holds one of the beer bottles out to Deanna; she glances at it, then shakes her head.
It surprises Sam, but he doesn't push. "You look like crap," he offers.
Deanna snorts. "Well. Don't you know how to make a girl feel special."
There's no bite in it. That tells Sam they're okay. She does, though; look like crap, that is. Tired; washed out. She's been sleeping in the day a lot. Bobby says it's the grief, that she needs it. Sam could believe that. He wonders, though, if Bobby's heard Deanna throwing up in the night lately. Not just one of her tactical upchucks to stave off a hangover, because she's not been drinking all that much lately; but these real hacking puke sessions that jolt Sam out of sleep in the early hours of the morning. She never comes back to her bed afterwards. And Sam has his suspicions about that too, like with the left behind phone; it's Deanna's way of not giving him a chance to pry. She knows how thin the wall between the bathroom and the spare bedroom is.
"Can I sit?" Sam asks.
Deanna shrugs. It's as good as permission.
Sam lowers himself down beside her, gets comfy on the rough gravel. He puts down the beers; doesn't feel much like drinking by himself.
They sit in silence for a while. Puts Sam on edge; but it's hard to know what to say to Deanna most of the time these days, which isn't a position he's ever been in before. Then again, they've never been in the position of losing their father before, so there's that. It still doesn't feel real. It probably never will.
"Keys were still in the ignition," Deanna says, nodding up towards the truck. "Tapedeck works. Engine's salvageable. Bobby's way too quick to junk these babies. Upsets me."
Sam smiles. "Dare you to say that to his face."
"Hey, maybe I will. If he gave me half a day with this death trap I'd get her purring again. Turn her into a whole new woman."
She folds her arms, tilts her head back against that dented door. Her eyes are kinda pink and bleary.
"You should see the tapes in the glove compartment," she adds. "'S a fucking goldmine.
"Is this Hunky Dory?" Sam asks.
Deanna raises an eyebrow. "Wow. And there I was thinking you weren't paying attention all this time."
"You didn't exactly give me a choice. You only played this album every day for like ten years."
Deanna grins. "I'm proud of you, Sammy. I knew you'd learn to love it eventually."
"Love is a strong word," Sam replies.
Deanna snorts again. Something like affection passes over her face. Sam hasn't seen that in a while.
"I lost this album years ago," Deanna says. "Think it ended up with Dad, maybe. You know how our stuff used to always get mixed up." 
Sam's a little stunned. And maybe it shows, because Deanna narrows her eyes at him. "What?"
"Nothing." He swallows - "Just that you, uh, mentioned Dad."
"Yeah. So?"
It's quick, defensive enough for Sam to know to shut up. He's getting good at that kind of thing. 
Deanna's scowl fades; she grins, lightly punches his thigh. "You creep. Quit staring at me."
Sam didn't realize he was. But if they were a different kind of people, maybe Sam would tell Deanna how pretty she looks under the dying sunlight, under those pink, glowy clouds; but he wouldn't really know how to put something like that, and Deanna would never let him live it down if he said it aloud anyway. So he keeps it to himself. Instead, he watches Deanna pull at a spooling thread from her shirt sleeve peeking out from beneath Dad's jacket.
"You know," Deanna says, "being out here always reminds me of us being kids. Bobby letting us play in the yard until the sun went down. Bringing us lemonade. Do you remember?"
Sam smiles. "Yeah, Dee. Of course I remember."
Deanna carries on like she wasn't expecting an actual response. "We'd never had homemade lemonade. Remember how I used to try to make it for you when we got back on the road? Mine always kinda sucked, though."
Sam feels a little on edge, hyper aware of everything his body is doing, like he's trying not to spook a wild gazelle. This is the most Deanna has spoken in weeks. "You tried," he offers, because she did, Deanna always tried so hard with stuff like that. He hasn't thought about Deanna's crappy lemonade in years. With Bowie warbling about life on mars on the stereo, and the memory of Deanna's sticky too-bitter attempt alive on his tongue, it feels like it's 1992 again.
Deanna keeps pulling at that thread. "You know, back when I used to watch you - I was, I dunno, maybe ten or eleven. And you were so - you were so damn innocent, you know? Just really cute, I guess."
"Cute?" Sam echoes.
"Yeah." There's this tight, half-smile on her mouth that Sam can't quite read. "You were so curious about shit all the time. Always wanting me to tell you stories. Always getting yourself scraped and bruised because you couldn't stop fucking climbing stuff." 
Sam isn't sure what to say. There's something about remembering himself as a child that makes him uncomfortable. Maybe it's the idea of being so small and so helpless; or maybe it's the memory of that hard-to-place unease that lived inside of him like blood from the moment he was fully sentient, that gut-deep sense that something about his life - his family, his barely present Daddy - just wasn't right.
"You were a pain in the ass," Deanna continues, with this fond chuckle. "Asking me questions all the time. Wanting to know how every little thing in the world worked. If I didn't know the answers, I'd just make 'em up. You believed everything I said." She clicks her tongue. "Man, do I miss that."
Why are we talking about this? Sam nearly asks. But that runs the risk that Deanna will snap shut like an oyster, and Sam will never get the answer at all. So he keeps his mouth closed. He lets Deanna carry on.
"Sammy, I used to -" She trails off, looking weirdly sheepish. "This is so so fucking weird, but like - when I was watching you, I used to wish you were actually my kid. And you - you kinda were, you know? Felt like you were mine... mine just as much as you were Dad's."
Dad, again. Sounds so unfamiliar in Deanna's voice now that it takes Sam a moment to process the revelation that came before it. "You did? Seriously?" is all he manages.
"Yeah." She's looking at her lap. Still that tight half-smile. "Seriously."
And Sam struggles to know what to do with that, what it means. Because it's hard, lately, for Sam to be angry with his father about much; makes him feel almost empty, actually, after a lifetime of nursing this near-addictive resentment over things he never fully understood. And of those things, Deanna - getting her stuff mixed up with Dad's, being so intertwined with him, resembling her martyred mother so much Dad could never stop commenting on it - Deanna seeing Sam as her own, apparently - well, he doesn't know. Sometimes Deanna just says shit. He probably isn't meant to read into it.
And besides, Sam doesn't know anything for sure. Always felt like he never really wanted to. And as he's already made his choice to love his father, he needs to keep it that way.
Deanna shuts her eyes, then. They're puffy under her lashlines, kissed with gray. "I mean," she says, "Don't get me wrong. You annoyed the crap outta me sometimes." She shrugs, hard, like a defence to an attack Sam hasn't made. "I - I do know that, Sammy. I know there was times I coulda been nicer to you." She looks a little pained.
"We were just kids Dee," Sam offers. "Not like either of us were exactly saints." 
"I keep remembering," Deanna continues, in that way, like Sam hadn't spoken again, "There was this time Dad kind of - got caught up in something. Still don't know what. But he wasn't home when he said he'd be. We were running out of everything. Food, money. No one was answering the phone. And you - you were driving me insane, Sammy."
Deanna says the last part a little too quietly; her head bows, hair covering her face. And Sam thinks he knows where this is going. He's getting a little uneasy.
"You just - you kept on and on with your damn questions. 'Where's Dad? What does he do while he's away? When's he coming back?' Then you - you asked about Mom."
"Deanna-"
She shakes her head, cutting him off. Something bitter on her lips, not quite a smile. "Who punches a five year old in the face, Sammy? I can't believe I -"
"You were only nine, Dee." Sam reminds her, when she doesn't finish the sentence. "You didn't know any better."
And it's true; Dad made sure of that, with his shoot first, ask questions later manifesto. But Deanna would never see it that way. She just laughs, colorless, bitter. "Yeah. I did. I shoulda, at least. I just -" She huffs. "Sometimes it feels like I just - I couldn't stop screwing up."
"You were doing it all by yourself." As the words leave his mouth, Sam registers how they sound. Like something you'd say about a single mom, some divorced thirty something with three kids, working two jobs to keep everyone fed and clothed. Not a nine year old.
"I guess -" Deanna sucks in a breath. "I just think about that a lot. That's all."
There's this dread growing inside of Sam as he watches Deanna's mouth twist up; she blinks, angrily. "Are you - crying?"
"Shut up," she mumbles.
She turns her face away a little. Draws her knees up to her chest. And it's strange and unsettling for Sam to see, like a horse walking on its hind legs or something; because Deanna doesn't cry, crying is for girls, and anatomy aside, she doesn't much like being seen as one of those. Even before Dad's pyre she stood, solemn and silent, breathing slow, composed. A hell of a lot more composed than Sam was, anyway.
"What's going on, Dee?"
She shrugs. That's very different to I'm fine.
And if things had been in any way close to normal over the last couple of months, Sam might touch Deanna's hand right about now. Lace their fingers; cup her face. Kiss her, maybe, the way she hasn't let him kiss her in a long time. Not since - well - not since the night they let Dad go. Sam can still remember the heat from the fire on his face, the way Deanna's hair felt grainy with ash; how her lips had tasted earthy and swollen, how she felt so small and fragile in his arms, more than she ever had. Still his big sister. Still the person he wants when he's scared and spiralling and doesn't know what to do but grab onto her, and hold on and on and on.
Deanna sniffs, loudly. "I just - I had so much on my shoulders, you know? Dealin' with you... dealin' with Dad..."
Her voice cracks a little. Sam says, "It was - it was a lot. I know." 
A lot. So much summed up in those two words, but it's not like Sam's had a lot of practise in talking about this.
Deanna laughs down at her folded knees, all thick. "You don't know, Sammy. You don't know at all. And I'm - I'm really glad you don't."
Sam isn't sure what to say to that. Partly because he can't gauge Deanna's tone, and partly because that feels like one of the most honest things Deanna's ever said to him. And now he's really worried.
"I just - I always wished I had another chance, you know? A chance to do over all those screw ups I made."
Tentatively, Sam reaches out to put a hand on her shoulder. It tenses a little beneath his fingers; but she doesn't pull away. That's good.
"I don't know where all this is coming from, Dee," Sam admits.
There's a pause, and Deanna seems to blink for a little too long. "It's - Sammy, I just keep on thinking. Dad's - Dad's gone." 
It's the first time she's actually said it. Sam swallows; throat feels a little thick. "Yeah. I know."
"And I was just getting - you get used to things being one way, you know?" She runs a hand through her hair, shiny with grease like oil slicks. "It's always like that. You start getting used to things, and then - then some other shit happens. And suddenly things are a whole new way. Before you can even fucking -"
"What do you mean?"
"Sammy, I knew something was wrong. I - I think I knew all along. But - today..."
Sam does everything in his power to keep his growing anxiety out of his voice. "Where did you go today, Deanna?" 
Her lips press together. She's still looking at her lap.
That dread expands, curdles, in Sam's gut. "Tell me."
Her hands are shaking against her thighs. "I - I went to the doctor."
That's absolutely the last thing Sam expected. "Since when do you go to the doctor?"
"I kinda had to."
Sam watches the little quiver of her fingers; and with that, he thinks back to the puking, the tiredness, how not right his sister looks. He thinks about Jess, how they were talking about what color to paint the living room 24 hours before she went up in flames on the ceiling. He thinks about Dad calmly sending him off for coffee before he…
Things are one way. Then suddenly they're another. Before you can blink, before you even remember your own name.
"Are you - are you sick?" Sam tries to keep his voice even.
Deanna isn't looking at him. "Kinda."
Sam thinks about Deanna hooked up to wires and machines. The miracle; how miracles don't happen. He's been harboring a little fear that there has to still be something wrong. A lacerated organ. A foreign object. Something they must have missed. But he thought - hoped - it was just that - a fear.
Sam sucks in a breath. "Okay. So - so what..."
Deanna smiles grimly. "Turns out I've got a parasite."
He watches Deanna shift. Her hand move towards one of the pockets of Dad's jacket. She keeps her eyes on her lap as she passes a small slip of paper to Sam. Small, rectangular. He takes it.
It's a moment or so before he realizes what he's seeing. Kind of like a photograph; a fuzzy sepia. Odd shapes that slowly begin to make sense.
"Ten weeks," Deanna says, her voice a little hoarse with disbelief. "I'm - I'm ten fucking weeks pregnant, Sammy."
Sam stares numbly at that ultrasound still. At the shapes, like two beans stacked on top of each other. Faint, fuzzy lines. Tiny arms. Tiny legs. He stares at them until they blur.
Ten weeks. Ten weeks since -
"So it's - " Sam can't finish the sentence.
"Yeah, Sammy. It's yours."
Her voice sounds very far away. And Sam can smell ash and fumes, traces of hospital grade body wash on Deanna's skin, skin that was bruised all over from cannulae and wires; and Sam couldn't catch his breath because Dad was gone, the last of him was just yards away on that burnt out pyre, gone; and Deanna's hands were on his face, tangled up in his hair, forehead pressed against his, and she was straddling his lap in the Impala's backseat, her eyes shut, muttering ssh, ssh over and over, maybe to Sam, or maybe to herself, but she kept saying it, even through the long kisses she kept pressing to his mouth; and Sam remembers he could barely see, he felt like he was choking on that ashy air, but he had Deanna, and he needed Deanna, he'd never needed her so much in his entire life. And Deanna understood, the way she's always understood things like that; and Deanna had kept on with her kissing and ssh-ing as she moved on top of him, fast, desperate, and Sam had clung onto her waist and met each roll of her hips, fast, anguished, because he couldn't get close enough, deep enough; and Deanna had been making these pitchy, breathless sounds like she was in pain, but she didn't stop Sam, and the whole time her eyes were wide and fixed on his face; and Sam remembers tangling her hair around his fingers like rope, he remembers arching up against her as he came, his body going through the motions, his senses numb to it. That numbness hasn't really left him since.
"Sammy, say something."
Deanna's voice, strained, cuts through the memory. Hauls Sam back to the present; Bowie, rotten oil, dead leaves. That autumnal breeze. His sister's face, tight and worried. Sam recognizes that pallor a little more now: shock.
It's passing through Sam as well. Of all the things he expected - this was nowhere on the list. Nowhere close.
"Alright," he manages eventually. Amazed at how calm he sounds. "What do you wanna do?" Because that's the thing to ask, right?
Deanna's lips twist again. "I mean - like, right away, I thought about just - you know - going off and taking care of it. Not even telling you. Just - "
"You wouldn't have told me?"
"I said I thought about it, Sam." She clicks her tongue; another rough wipe of her eyes. "I'm telling you now, aren't I?"
Sam keeps staring. Staring, at that image. That tiny, tiny baby. 
"Is that what you want?" he manages, eventually. Hoarse as Deanna. "To - take care of it?"
Deanna's pause seems to roll around the length of the yard. Then, her eyes stray to her lap again. "You know, Dad used to lecture me about this shit. Made it very clear how disappointed he'd be if I ever accidentally got myself knocked up."
Sam says, "Really?"
"Yeah. All the time." There's something acidic in Deanna's voice. "And you know why he harped on about it so much?"
"Why?"
"Because he said it wouldn't be fair to bring a kid into all this. Into the life." Deanna laughs, this flat, one-note thing. Something sharp flashes through her eyes; something gone too quick for Sam to fully identify. "Can you believe he said that to me? After everything he..."
She stops. And Sam watches Deanna's face reset, as if she hadn't expressed something like anger towards Dad for the first time ever. Something like what Sam has been saying, feeling, thinking, ever since he was old enough to understand. Everything Deanna always denied.
"It wouldn't have to be the same." It comes out of Sam's mouth before he can catch up with it. "You know. The same as we had it."
Deanna keeps on looking at her lap.
"You -" Sam takes a breath. "You know that, right?"
Deanna sighs. More like the breath whipping out of her body. "I'm not gonna stop looking for the demon, Sammy."
She says it like she expected Sam to insist on it. He clarifies: "I'm not saying we do. I'm saying we make it work."
He has no idea how. No fucking idea. His brain hasn't quite absorbed what's in front of him yet, the news undigested; but he's certain, somehow, of that.
Deanna gives that odd laugh again. Sam isn't sure what it means, this time. "It's also..." She picks at that thread on her shirt again. "I mean, the doctor said it looked healthy. But what if it comes out and it's like, a cyclops or something?"
"Why would it be -"
Deanna's shoulders rise. "You've seen Deliverance, right?"
Oh.
Sam swallows. His eyes stray back to the picture. Not that he can see much; not that there's much to see. But there's enough there for Sam to think it looks absolutely perfect.
"There are risks," is all he can think to say. "But it's - you know. It's not completely inevitable."
Deanna narrows her eyes. "You've already looked this stuff up, haven't you?"
She says it in this accusatory way. Sam runs his thumb delicately across the grainy image. "There was always a chance this could happen, Dee."
Always a chance. They've never done much to mitigate it, really. There's not enough space in Sam's brain right now, to wonder why that is.
Deanna skips over it too. Runs a hand through that greasy hair. Her lips twist.
"I just think," she says, after a while, "even if it comes out with three heads, playing a fucking banjo... would I care? You know?"
She's still not quite meeting Sam's eyes. Sam prompts, "Would you?"
"I mean. It's not like it'd be the only freak in this family, right?" A smile spreads across her mouth. "Sammy, you know I wouldn't care. I'd -I'd love it no matter what."
"Me too." It comes out thick; Sam's never been more sure of anything in his life.
He hands Deanna back the picture; takes her hand, deceptively delicate and cold in his, as he watches her eyes fog up with tears again. She doesn't hide this time; leans in to press her forehead against Sam's, just like that night ten weeks ago, just like they've come full circle. And fuck, it feels like forever since Sam's been touched like this, touched by anyone; he's just wondering if leaning in for a kiss would be pushing it, when he feels Deanna's plump, dried out lips brushing his. They feel a little sticky, and there's this malodor to her breath, but Sam barely registers it. It's like coming home.
I missed you, he doesn't say; can't, when Deanna's mouth would smother it anyway. When Deanna would only screw her face up and call him a big girl, and he'd rattle with guilt about feeling a little humiliated by that, but he'd feel it anyway.
Deanna pulls away first. She's a little flushed, and Sam can faintly see the capillaries in her face, like pink lines on a map under her skin; she squeezes his hand, laces their fingers. Moves them together until Sam's palm is flat against her stomach, the warmth of her body underneath that worn flannel.
"I keep thinking I can feel it," she whispers. "Now I know it's there."
Sam watches their interlaced hands dumbly. Overwhelmed. He can too.
"I kinda hope it's a girl." Deanna's voice has that hoarse quality again. "So I can - so she can have a Mom. So she can have what I didn't have."
She says it at the exact moment Sam finds himself hoping it's a boy. His reasons are similar. But for someone who doesn't like to talk, Deanna's always been way better at articulating stuff like that.
"You'll be a great Mom, Dee," he says, firmly. You were to me.
"Alright. You don't need to kiss my ass." Deanna ruffles his hair, like she did when she kissed him goodnight as a kid.
It takes Sam a moment to find his voice again. "I mean it, Dee. We'll make it work." He says it with this conviction that rises up from somewhere deep. "And I'm gonna be here for you, alright? Every step of the way."
Deanna groans. "Jesus Christ. I knew you'd be like this."
But she's smiling. And Sam allows himself to as well.
"Sammy?"
"Yeah?"
“You know Dad would kill us, right? But man, do I wish he was here right now.”
She says it with a laugh in her voice, her face all twisted up; and Sam can't help but remember how he and Jess had talked about kids, vaguely, sometimes, kind of like a concept, a distant dream. How Sam had thought to himself about Dad a lot then, too, the way he never really stopped thinking about Dad and Deanna. He remembers wondering to himself whether Dad would be proud. Whether he'd even want a grandkid; if he'd want to know at all. Back then, Sam genuinely toyed with the idea that Dad wouldn't even care. Never come back, Sam.
It's not the same, now. Holy fuck, this is not the same, and it can probably only be a good thing that Dad's not here to know about this; so Sam pushes away the thought. He puts his arms around Deanna's waist and pulls her as close as he dares.
"It'll be okay," he says again, because he can't think of anything else. Because it has to be.
Deanna's looking at him kinda intently. "Sam, do you think this is Dad's way of like - you know - coming back?"
"Uh - what?"
Deanna shrugs. "Dunno. Just - hormones talking, I guess." She squeezes Sam's hand against her stomach. "Forget I said anything."
Sam's not sure he can. They don't say anything after that.
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inevitably-johnlocked · 1 year ago
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i’m so sorry this is hyper specific…. any fics where john calls sherlock ‘WILLIAM!!’ when he’s in trouble or something?? i think it would be hilarious
Hey Nonny!
AHHHHHH eeeee I don't know if I have anything specifically for that, but over the years I have been asked for William Fics, so I'm just gonna use your ask to finally collect what I have <3 If anyone has anything more specific to Nonny's request, please let us know, 'cause Nonny's right, it'd be funny LOL.
That said, here is what I have for "William" fics, which I just did a search for his name and probably don't have any of them correct :( I pulled what I had on my MFL list as well to make this list a bit longer for you. Apologies ahead of time if they're not "William" focussed.
Please let me know if y'all have more!
SHERLOCK’S CALLED “WILLIAM”
See also: Sherlock Called William (Alexx's List)
Vale Mea by JohntheBlonde (G, 622 w., 1 Ch. || Implied/Referenced Death, Ambiguous/Open Ending, Pining Sherlock, Epistolary) – 'I, William Sherlock Scott Holmes...hereby...declare this my last Will and Testament.' 
what’s in a name by flight815kitsune (NR, 1,285 w., 1 Ch. || Soulmates AU) – There were some things you just knew. The name, if you were lucky enough to get one, was one of those things.
Dear John by wendymarlowe (E, 23,031 w., 64 Ch. || Post-TRF, Online Dating, Pining, Epistolary, Cybersex, Long Distance Romance) – With Sherlock dead, John eventually (under duress) makes a profile on an online dating site. And falls into a long-distance relationship with an enigmatic partner who reminds him of Sherlock in all the right ways. (Hint: it turns out to be Sherlock.) Part 1 of Dear John
we have never seen a greater day than this by Lediona (T, 36,420 w., 7 Ch. || A Royal Night Out AU || WWII / VE Day, Prince Sherlock, Soldier John, Alternating POV, First Kiss, Bittersweet Ending, Homophobia, Dancing) – Peace. At long last. It’s VE Day and Prince William desires to join the celebrations. It is a night of excitement, danger and the first flutters of romance.
A Hundred Crimson Sols by elldotsee (E, 55,536 w., 16 Ch. || Astronauts AU || Mars Exploration / Space Travel, Slow Burn, Shy Sherlock, Scientist Sherlock / Biomed Engineer John, Alternating POV, Mutual Pining, UST, Angst with Happy Ending, Domestic Fluff, Hurt/Comfort, Injuries, Suicidal Ideation, Zero-G Sex) – Will Holmes is a chemical researcher recognized widely for his contributions to the new Mars exploration program. Thanks to his ground-breaking developments, the IMMC (International Mars Mission Corporation) is one step closer to Martian colonization. Will and his team of scientists are headed out on the first of three manned missions before the first group of settlers arrive. Three days before launch, one of the crew has to be replaced. Will panics because...new people. The replacement is of course one John Watson, biomedical engineer and space hottie who was pretty sure he had retired from actual space exploration and was now content to work in the nice, quiet research lab. Can the crew survive this TOTALLY ROUTINE trip? Will they be able to endure each other for the looooooong trip in close quarters? Gonna be a wild ride... prepare for blast off. Part 1 of SpaceBois go to Space
MARKED FOR LATER
A Prequel of Sorts by foxy61 (G, 6,561 w. || Kidlock / Teenlock, Time Manipulation, Big Brother Mycroft) – William Sherlock Scott Holmes was born in a little cottage in the middle of a blizzard January 6th 1977. He was delivered by an ex-army doctor, one Dr. John Hamish Watson who apparently didn’t exist or at least not yet. Part 2 of A Blizzard Started it All
I Don't Need You to Like Me by Ranowa (T, 7,146 w., 1 Ch || Different First Meeting, Autistic Sherlock, Ableism, Papa Lestrade, Big Brother Mycroft, Child Abuse, Kidlock) – Greg's introduction to child abuse cases is a small, surly child with a broken arm named John Watson... and the even smaller, nonverbal boy that won't leave his side. The smaller, nonverbal boy named William Holmes.
To Belong Series by DrFish (T, 19,400+ w. across 4 works || Series WiP || Victorian / Mythical AU || OctoJohn, Scientist Sherlock, Attempted Kidnapping, BAMF John, Protective / Possessive John, Developing Relationship, Being Lost, Size Difference, Capital Punishment, Happy Ending) – William Sherlock Scott Holmes failed to graduate the University of Cambridge class of 1877. Adrift in London, he accepts a post as assistant naturalist on a scientific expedition to the Western Pacific Ocean aboard Her Majesty's Sailing Ship Frontier. Events do not proceed quite as planned and Sherlock finds himself cruelly cast away by his shipmates. Perhaps he will find salvation in the company of a most unlikely sea creature.
The Corvus That Calls at Night by S_IRIS (E, 19,834+ w., 4/? Ch. || Medieval Fantasy AU || Military John, Swordsman Sherlock, True Love, Historical, Politics, Falling in Love, Sexual Tension, Fictional Religion, Angst, Pining, Infidelity) – A final chance at forging peace between the kingdom of Brevaria in the south and the newly-seceded Brevarian Republic in the north hinges on a strategic but unpopular betrothal between the youngest brother of the Duke of Langley, the heir apparent, and Harriet Lily, the daughter of the Brevarian High Consul. Expectations are that a marriage alliance between Harriet and Prince William might soothe tensions on both sides of the border regarding the alliance and end the protracted civil war. However, Sherlock is only going up to the Brevarian moors in expectation of meeting Harriet’s older brother, the most talented military commander in over six generations. But behind John Watson’s legendary prowess in battle is a dark secret.
An Aftertaste Of Memory by Raithwithwings57 (M, 39,009+ w., 20/? Ch. || Post TRF, Rosie is in this Fic, Hurt/Comfort, Angst with Happy Ending, Amnesia (Sherlock), Torture, Scars, PTSD, Divorced John, Divorced Lestrade, Misunderstandings) – Sherlock Holmes was believed by most to have died by jumping to his death. A few people, Mycroft Holmes included believed he died in somewhere in Serbia, tortured to death, though his body was never found. Sherlock Holmes himself doesn't believe either of the above, obviously. After being extensively tortured in Serbia, he suffered a traumatic brain injury that left him with amnesia, and deafness. But the doctors say that the deafness is psychological in nature. It doesn't matter much to him. All he knows is that his name is William, and that he was once (and it seems he always will be) in love with a man by the name of John Watson. John has suffered much in the last eight years. Losing his best friend to suicide, marrying and then later being divorced by his wife, battling for joint custody of his child, and generally trying to forge ahead and figure out what the seemingly bleak future holds in store for him. But what he could never expect is Sherlock's sudden return. Nor the man's conviction that once upon a time they were madly in love.
Proper Manners by Jade5687 (E, 40,449 w., 2 Ch. || Medieval Royalty AU || Class Differences, Religion, Post-War, Master/Servant, Identity Issues, Period-Typical Attitudes, First Time, Light Bondage) – Sherlock Holmes is a charming—if somewhat eccentric—nobleman who often spends time with John, an apothecary’s son. When John is offered employment at King William’s castle, however, he fears he will have to say goodbye to Sherlock. But in the end, they might actually become closer than before. Part 1 of the King William's Castle series
Sehnenfäden by holmesian_love and Strange_johnlock (M, 67,879 w., 22 Ch. || Violinist Sherlock AU || Idiots in Love, Alternate First Meeting, Hurt/Comfort, Fluff and Humour, Friendship, Friends to Lovers, Slow Burn, First Time, Nature, Music, Seclusion, Angst with Happy Ending, Non-Explicit Sex)��– William Sherlock Holmes is a world-renowned violinist, uncompromising with his principles and his punishing schedule, pushed to breaking point by his manager. John Watson is a lost, retired army-doctor, returned to London with nowhere to live. Both men end up in situations which lead them to a secluded German village in the mountains, escaping from the unforgiving world around them. A chance encounter brings them together, sharing a friendship and understanding neither of them have found before. Will they be able to find a way to express their true feelings for one another, to find the path to be together, despite Sherlock’s chaotic lifestyle?
The Killing Principle by Vulpesmellifera (E, 104,593 w., 46 Ch. || American AU || Gay John, Serial Killer Mary, Bum Appreciation, Sherlock is William, Dating Difficulties, BAMF Sherlock, Slow Burn, Thriller, Confessions, Whump, Angst with Happy Ending, Minor Character Death) – John Watson served twice in AmeriCorps, married his high school sweetheart, and then entered med school. A sudden arrest and accusation of multiple murders ends his promising career, irrevocably altering his life's trajectory. Acquitted of his wife’s crimes, John spends the next ten years as the maligned ex-husband of convicted serial killer Mercy Mary. A job offer draws him out of hiding and back to Connecticut - the very state where the crimes were committed. He needs the money, and the job is a dream. Then he meets the brilliant William Vernet, and it seems like he has a second chance at life and love. But the past has a way of catching up.
Beyond Recall by elwinglyre & MrBotanyB (E, 110,201 w. || Apocalypse/Dystopia AU, Alternate First Meeting, Case Fic, Amnesia/Memory Loss, Hurt/Comfort, Slow Burn, First Time, Alternating POV) – Dropped into Cardiff on a mission he doesn’t remember, everyday he wakes to a past he doesn’t recall in a world torn apart by pandemic. William (Sherlock Holmes) finds purpose when John Watson finds him. For Watson, this man is a mysterious thief with the uncanny ability to see into people. But there’s something more to this man, and Doctor Watson helps William find the answers to his “magical” deductions. Is he a mad man? A serial killer? Or just damn clever? And what’s his connection to the epidemic that wiped out most of the world?
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cococassey · 8 months ago
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Webtoon: After School Lessons for Unripe Apples (ch 1 to 126)
Author/Artist: Soonkki
Spoiler free:
Why do I do this to myself? To try chasing my Lovely Runner blues away, now I'm hooked to korean webtoon ASLFUA 😭! Which is exponentially worse because 1. it's still ongoing, 2. not 100% assured the OTP will end up together (Soonki pls pinky promise me). Well, at least it has free official eng translations (big plus)!
Got curious because I saw the fanart. It's not an art style I usually go for, but the author is Soonkki. Cheese in the trap was a kdrama I was intrigued of from the start (Jung!), but didn't get to finish because of the negative reviews, but I'll check out the webtoon soon which is finished yay!
Lovely Runner made me miss coming of age, youth romance stories, so this one really fits the bill. Cheol is a very tall big built male lead, while Mi-ae is a small pea, which reminded me a lot of the Sun Jae-Sol dynamic. But that's where most of the similarities end. This is about Mi-ae's school life adventures, trying her hardest to be friends with the new scary deskmate (who of course is a softie inside), trying his darnest to be inconspicuous at school, and failing miserably at ignoring her lol.
A very very slow burn, slice of life kind of feel at the start, a lot of studying involved, but once it gets going, I finished 3 years worth of content in a daze in 2 days! I'm kind of weak for the energizer bunny girl chasing after the grumpy broody guy trope, so this is right up my alley.
Mi-ae is just a ball of positivity. She can be sad of stuff, but not for long. Cheol who only wants to be on the down low, and wants nothing to do with such a quirky chaotic girl, but of course he can't help himself. He's just so protective of those he perceived to be picked upon. Seeing closed up Cheol gradually opening up because of Mi-ae's exuberance is a joy to watch.
Following Cheol and Mi-ae growing up together, traversing school, friendship, and sorting out their inexplicable confusing feelings (squeeee). The whole series is such a happy pill! Can't wait to see more after school group hijinks, and the growth of all the characters and their relationships.
Note: there is some triggering content like school corporal punishment, bullying, but nothing too detailed on page.
Spoilers:
My fave story arcs so far:
- Relentless Mi-ae asking frenemy Honggyu for soccer lessons because of Cheol, and clueless protective Cheol getting frustrated where Mi-ae keeps running off with scrapes all over. This is the arc where Cheol finally got worn down and accepted her millionth time offer of friendship lol.
- Jinseop's hilarious haircut scene! Enough said.
- Jinseop, who you'll first think as the love triangle or bully, suddenly becomes Cheol's and Mi-ae's love cupid to propel these two clueless lovebirds along.
- Cheol going absolutely bonkers about that accidental kiss. Priceless.
- Honggyu and Mi-ae's whole chaotic birthday arc where the gang helped Honggyu escape bullies. Starts with Cheol's jealousy antics, showing up suddenly on Jinseop and Mi-ae's impromptu date, and ended the adventurous day with crumbs of Cheol-Mae sweetness.
Can't wait for more...the mystery of Jisu (the real love triangle?), and Cheol's past/scar! Oh no it doesn't really bode well for me to get invested as CITT completed in 7 yrs. No thanks Soonkki, for the torture of ending the eng webtoon so far in a kiss-hanger. It's like a treat and torture at the same time.
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chibi-celesti · 8 months ago
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Interlude 02-Book 01: Dia Rosa Rudje-Ar Prasrity Fowrlle
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Ar Prasrity Fowrlle Gfine anw Revatail
(A moment of Peace)
Synopsis: On the eve of the Unbirthday Party, Meryu tries to bide her time to calm her soul and worries over what may happen next. What she didn’t know was that someone else was watching her from the shadows.
A special interlude dedicated to a moment between two people who don’t know each other yet, but one day will soon.
~Twisted Tonelico~
Shortly after returning to Ramshackle, Meryu and the boys settled down for the evening. While Ace and Deuce passed out on the sofa, Meryu was still awake; opting to spend time outside to calm her frayed nerves. 
The evening was cool, calm even. Meryu still couldn’t believe this is what the land beneath felt like. She remembered her guardian Shurelia telling her tales of what their world used to be like back in Platina. Those were things she could only imagine in her dreams back then. But now, seeing it and feeling the caress of the wind on her body was therapeutic. And real.
But then there's tomorrow…
Tomorrow will be my first Unbirthday Party here. And my first formal event without Lady Shurelia to guide me… she thought to herself. I wonder how she would react to me being in an all boy's academy? A smile appeared on her face. She'd probably have a panic attack and tear Mr. Crowley a new one.
She laughed to herself at the image. A fiery, livid Shurelia shouting at the magnanimous Head Mage, and two seconds away from ‘Ka-Boom'-ing the man to bits.
As Meryu continued to think about her guardian and only true family, she started to whisper a little tune to herself.
(~Lyrnya grrena anw bale,
Bautifal ciel burle~)
She swayed with the wind, whispers turning into humming to herself without a care, not minding if a soul were to see her and mock her for her naivete.
(~Was yea ra chanti fowrlle en hartes grlanza fhyu~)
(~Hyma en chs fedyya bexm, iasien sol dea houd frawr chiess herr~)
The longer she swayed with the wind, the more it enticed her to dance with it; the more she danced with the wind, the more her humming became singing.
~Mea eux na idesy sor, den~
~Was yea ra vit yora riura won manafaln dor~
(~Was yea ra vit waath oz hartes dor.~)
She sang of beautiful days, warm and hopeful tomorrow's. Not just for herself but for the world. It was something she always did.
~Mea oriye na idesy sor, dea~
~Was yea erra reen yora hynne tek manafaln ciela, an mean.~
(~Was yea erra reen dilete oz hartes ciela~)
Her little soliloquy was a performance that enamored the trees, the wind, and a few critters that traversed the campus. All either accompanied her in her song or swayed to the melodious waves of each lyric.
Her performance even caught the attention of someone who hid in the shadows. They have never met this young woman before, but it felt as though they have. Something about her voice sounded familiar to them, but they couldn't quite put their finger on it.
Curious yet mesmerized by Meryu's dance and voice, they felt like they were placed under a spell, but they did not fear. In fact, they loved it. A sudden sense of Déjà vu sent shivers throughout their body.
The shadowy figure couldn't help but hum along with the young woman's song. A part of them longing to reach out and dance with her like the wind is. But their feet were rooted to the spot; they couldn't move at all, afraid of disturbing her performance and scaring her off.
And just as she was at the precipice of her song, someone else's voice cut through and disturbed the peace. The stranger quickly hid themselves further into the shadows at the same time.
“Minion, it's late! We can't miss the Unbirthday Party, remember?”
Meryu halted in her steps, turning to the culprit that called her name, annoyed she was disturbed. “I'll be there in a moment, Grim!” Once Grim was back in the Dorm, she sighed in lament. He's right, I need to get some rest… She starts walking back to the front entrance, giving the stars one last glance before walking in the building.  I hope you're ok, Lady Shurelia.  I miss you so much…
In her ascension to the door, Meryu had sung to herself one more time.
~Wee yea ra hymme yanje revm,
Sol ammue zaarn, wi innna near burle.~
~Wee yea ra hymme yanje revm,
Yor irs, wi dor yeal folten…~
She closed the door, ignoring the silent tears falling down her face.
‘So this dorm is now inhabited?’ The stranger thought. They felt disappointed that their favorite place on campus is no longer vacant. They inwardly sighed. ‘Looks like I will have to find another place for myself.’
In a blink of an eye, they vanished  with not a single trace of their presence left behind, except for a glimmer of glowing green lights.
And the echoes of the Reyvateil’s lullaby from their lips.
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voodoorhythmrecords · 1 day ago
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the Monsters
you're class, i'm trash
LP+DL
This is the 2nd edition of the Monsters 'you're class, i'm trash, from 2021 (first edition was yellow and with a 7" single) this second edition is pink/red 180g vinyl and with a printed inside poster Booklet.
The Monsters where founded in 1986 in Bern, Switzerland, as an alternative to the popular music culture of the time (disco, pop, top 40 rock). After 8 full lenghts and countless shows all over the globe, Europe, North and South America, Asia etc, all of their concerts and tours were canceled in 2020 and the whole world was put on hold (Covid 19 pandemic) so the band had time to create a new album to write, spend two weeks in the practice room and then record it for three days at the Shirt Off Studio in Bern together with Sebastian Zwahlen. Voila! 13 rough diamonds, loud and lively sounding tracks, all recorded completely live and without any frills overdubs (only vocals). With only 120 words on the album they are the undefeated champions of the lyrical minimalism of punk rock history, please enjoy 'smell my tongue', a working class song that is about daily ass licking or 'gimme germs' which deals with the constant sterilization of society, or 'electro bike asshole' a shot against the Tesla and co generation or in 'stranger to me' where you look in the mirror and no longer recognize yourself. Cover artwork is by Bernese surrealist Jerry Haenggli 
BANDCAMP: https://the-monsters.bandcamp.com/album/youre-class-im-trash
the Monsters - live
20.02 - Zürich - Zukunft - CH
21.02 - Frankfurt, Zoom - DE
20.03 - Marseille, Le Molotov Club - FR
21.03 - Valencia, 16 TONELADAS | ROCK CLUB - ESP
22.03 - Bacalona, Estraperlo - ESP
23.03 - Madrid, Sala El Sol - ESP
25.03 - Paris, Petit Bain - FR
26.03 - Bruxelles, Le Botanique - BE
27.03 - Köln, Gebäude 9 - DE
28.03 - Eindoven, V.O.F. Café Wilhelmina - NL
29.03 - Utrecht, dB´s - NL
30.03 - København, Loppen - DK
31.03 - Hamburg, Hafenklang - DE
01.04 - Berlin, Neue Zukunft - DE
03.04 - Wien, Chelsea - AT
04.04 - München, Feierwerk - DE
05.04 - Winterthur, Gaswerk - CH
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starryeyed-seer · 12 days ago
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A bunch of Creatures of Heaven/Suncrabbin' posting
I gotta finish creatures of heaven comic ch 6 before the YEAR anniversary in a few months. I fell out of it. When I got started I made it nonstop for hours at a time bc I knew I had to seize the hyperfixation.
I am also writing chapter 7!! But writing it is very hard bc I want it to be good!! 7 will be called AT LAST: THE FALL. I've written a scene for it, where the Messenger meets the Hunter (aka Veils): im putting it below the cut :)
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....after the moon was made & Stone was buried in ch 6, the Messenger and the King have lost something of their relationship. The Messenger is still in love but cannot admit how that has changed. She still grieves Stone despite understanding why she had to be hidden.
Now that Earth has blossomed, the sun is distracted by it. Things have moved on from the days of heaven and the garden, and the Messenger feels like a leftover. The sun sends her on distant journeys and keeps her far, and she is thankful because neither wants to discuss or define what their relationship is, or has become. But also she's miserable and so is He, but again neither will admit this or show it.
.....
So later she will confess her love to Him and He will reject her, writing a love letter to another on her skin and sending her far away. And that'll be the last they see of each other.
I'm going to have a ch 8 though, a future. Stuff on the Neath maybe, a little. And then the Message at the end, and am ending where the last few sentences have been burned into my head for a looooong time!
........
I have a lot of notes and bits of text which may never make it in or be used. I want to post them here so enjoy??
This is a bit i am going to use SOME of I'm sure.
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Baz: I love u 💓
Sol: you can't you don't have free will or the right to
Baz: nuh-uh ❤️
Sol: tf u mean 'nuh-uh'
....I hope it's clear that when I write sol being an ass, it IS, but also it isn't actually dismissing the bazaar bc it truly views it as lesser. It's more panicking, unable to accept its own feelings and the illegal reality of love it is in. It's going "ummm you can't love me that's illegal!!" Bc it's flustered by the fact Love is real and out of its control.
It loves the bazaar back, in creatures of heaven. But neither of them truly know what love is. For the bazaar love is to fly, to know there is no true difference between it and the sun because it has come to see God as a flawed person like itself. For the sun, love is a fall, a realisation of how little it knows, a mystery that cannot be solved and feelings that cannot be— refuse to be— ignored no matter how deadly they are.
"There are no roads for this" is a canon thing said about their relationship. It's new and terrifying.
.....................
I am probably not going to define the Message, because while I feel i know roughly what it is in canon (it's kinda suggested to be like. "Even after the worst of disasters, love somehow survives, life continues) I think exactly defining it takes away from it. But I had a feverish night or two of coming up with 7 word phrases a while back.
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You gotta know a lot of creatures of heaven was planned or written when I was not in my right mind. As is the best way to create.
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lilbannannerssimblr · 1 month ago
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The Romantic Dreamer Ch. 2
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Fawn Weston awoke to the golden rays of sunlight streaming through the curtains of her childhood bedroom. It was a weekend in the heart of summer, and after a hectic week of classes and studying at college, she was determined to savor every moment of her time at her parents' house. With a warm spinach frittata on hand, she stepped onto the balcony. The gentle breeze danced around her, and the aroma of blooming jasmine filled the air. Fawn closed her eyes, allowing the tranquility to envelop her.
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After breakfast, Fawn set off to Del Sol Valley, eager to meet her grandma Martha at the park. They had a tradition of spotting celebrities, and today, they were particularly hopeful. The sun was shining, and the park was bustling with people. They snapped a selfie together, Fawn’s heart racing with excitement as she posed next to her beloved grandma.
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As they wandered along the pathways, Fawn's eyes widened in disbelief when she spotted Judith Ward, the famous film star and one of her biggest idols, strolling casually with a group of friends. "There she is!" Fawn gasped, tugging at Martha's arm. They exchanged thrilled whispers before mustering the courage to approach her. To their surprise, Judith smiled and posed for a quick photo, leaving Fawn starstruck.
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Later, they returned to grandma Martha's cozy cottage in Newcrest, where the scent of eggs and toast filled the kitchen. “Breakfast for dinner!” Martha declared, as she grabbed the last piece of freshly made toast. Though Fawn wasn’t entirely sold on the idea, she cherished the time spent with her grandma more than the meal itself. They laughed, shared stories, and filled the room with warmth.
After dinner, Martha excused herself to the bathroom, and Fawn decided to take her plate outside. Sitting on the porch, she gazed at the sky, contemplating her next move. The day had turned cooler, and she wondered if a trip to the beach was in order. The thought of the waves lapping at her feet stirred a sense of adventure within her.
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Once the last bite of toast was gone, she headed towards Sulani. However, as she arrived, she found the beach had been washed by a day of rain. The sun peeked through the clouds, but the sand was still damp and glistening. Undeterred, she made her way to the bar and let the music sweep her off her feet, dancing with abandon.
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As the rain subsided, Fawn felt the call of the ocean. She changed into her swimsuit once again, the cool air sending shivers down her spine. But the thrill of the waves beckoned her closer. Wading into the water, she took a deep breath and felt alive. With no one else around, an exhilarating thought crossed her mind. With a giggle of delight, she decided to skinny dip, letting the warm waves wash over her, feeling both free and untethered.
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The night sky twinkled above her as she floated, embracing the serenity of the water and the thrill of the moment. Fawn knew tomorrow would bring her back to the grind of college, but for now, she was just a girl enjoying the magic of summer, her heart as open as the ocean.
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🎵
Index | Previous | Next | Diary Entry
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naushtheaspiringauthor · 10 months ago
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~Child Of The Storm~
Nikolai Lantsov x OC
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Image by - @brokendreamtale2
Warnings- none
A/N- After an excruciating month, I'm finally updating this fic as I'm finally done with finals😼 lemme know if you'd like to be added or removed from the taglist!
Taglist- @pansexualwitchwhoneedstherapy @sirisuorionblack @nadeleine123n @marauders-wife @evelyndane
Ch-47 ~The Plan~
 “Strike them down! They’re trying to kill our Saint! They’re trying to kill us all!” the Apparat shouted at his Priestguards. 
“A man so obsessed with holy fire should pay more attention to the smoke.” Alina grinned at the priest
 The light slammed through the girl and burst over the room in a blinding cascade that illuminated the expression of utter shock on the Apparat’s face. 
The Priestguards threw up their hands, eyes squeezed shut against the glare. The Apparat recovered quickly. “Save her! Save her from the traitors!” he bellowed. 
 Some of the guards looked confused, some frightened, but two jumped forward to do his bidding, sabers raised to attack  Anaya and the Squallers. 
A guard slashed his saber towards Anaya, but she hastily formed a blade, crashing her weapon with his as she spun around. She thrashed her blade towards him with much force, sending him backwards as she kicked him in the ribs.
Mal had gotten hold of a sword, and his blade flashed as he cut through one guard, then the other. Two more advanced, but Tolya and Tamar were there to stop them.
 David ran to Genya’s side. Nadia and Zoya flipped another guard in the air. The Priestguards on the periphery raised their rifles to open fire. 
But before they could take further action, Alina’s cut hurled in a fiery arc.
 It crashed through a long table and tore into the earth before the Priestguards, opening a dark, yawning trench in the kitchen floor. 
Terror splayed across the Apparat’s face. The guards fell to their knees, and a moment later, the priest followed. Some wept, chanting prayers. Beyond the kitchen doors, Anaya could hear fists pounding, voices wailing, “Sankta! Sankta!” 
Alina dropped her hands, letting the light recede. She drew a little light and kept it burning in a warm halo around her.
She walked forward and stood before one of the kneeling guards. He was younger than the others, his beard just coming in and his gaze was fastened on the ground as he mumbled prayers.
Alina touched her hand to his shoulder, and his eyes slid shut, tears rolling down his cheeks. 
“Forgive me, forgive me.” he spoke
 “Look at me,” she said gently.
 He forced himself to look up. 
Alina cupped his face in her hand
“What’s your name?” she asked
 “Vladim… Vladim Ozwal.” the boy responded, his voice trembling
“It’s good to doubt Saints, Vladim. And men.” 
He gave a shaky nod as another tear spilled over. 
“My soldiers bear my mark,” Alina spoke, referring to the tattoos borne by the Soldat Sol. “Until this day you have put yourself apart from them, buried yourself in books and prayer instead of hearing the people. Will you wear my mark now?”
“Yes,” he said, fervently. 
“Will you swear loyalty to me and only me?” 
“Gladly! Sol Koroleva!” he cried. Sun Queen.
“Open your shirt,” she commanded. 
Anaya was utterly confused as to what the girl was about to do. But the boy didn’t hesitate. 
His fingers fumbled with his buttons and he pulled the fabric apart, baring the skin of his chest.
Alina pressed her palm to the smooth skin over his heart and let the power pulse. Vladim flinched when it connected, scorching his flesh, but did not show any signs of paint. When she pulled her hand back, her palm print remained, the brand throbbed red on his chest. 
“It is done.” she spoke
 Vladim looked down at his chest, and his face broke into a beatific grin. 
“Thank you, Sol Koroleva.” 
“Rise” she commanded. 
He stood, beaming down at her, tears still running from his eyes. 
The Apparat moved as if to stand. 
“Stay where you are,” Alina snapped
 “Sankta Alina, I only wanted for you to be safe, for you to be whole and well again,” he spoke shakily. 
“Then consider your prayers answered. Priest, you will offer sanctuary to all those who seek it, not just those who worship the Sun Saint.” 
He shook his head. “The security of the White Cathedral-” 
“If not here, then elsewhere. Figure it out.” she cut him off
 He took a breath. “Of course.”
 “And there will be no more child soldiers.”
 “If the faithful wish to fight-”
 “You are on your knees, we are not negotiating.”
His lips thinned, but after a moment, he dipped his chin in assent. 
“You are all witness to these decrees.” Alina spoke, looking around. She then turned to one of the guards. “Give me your gun.” 
He handed it over without a second’s pause. She passed the weapon to Genya, then demanded a saber for David, though he wouldn’t be much good with it. Zoya, Nadia and Anaya stood ready to summon, and Mal and the twins were already well armed.
 “Up,” Alina said to the Apparat. “Let us have peace. We have seen miracles this day.” 
He rose, and as she embraced him. She then whispered something in his ear that made him shudder and nod begrudgingly.
 “See to your dead,” Alina said to one of the Priestguards. “We’ll bear them with us. Do they, do they have family?”
 “We are their family,” Vladim spoke.
 She addressed the others. “Gather the faithful from all over the White Cathedral and bring them to the main cavern. I will speak to them in one hour’s time. Vladim, once we’re out of the Kettle, free the other Grisha and get them to my quarters.” 
He touched the brand at his chest in a kind of salute. “Sankta Alina.”
 Alina glanced at Mal’s bruised face. “Genya, clean him up. Nadia-”
 “I’ve got it,” Tamar said, already dabbing the blood on Nadia’s lip with a towel she’d dunked into a cookpot full of hot water. 
“Sorry about that,” she said to her. 
Nadia smiled. “Had to make it look good. Besides, I’ll get you back.” 
“We’ll see,” Tamar replied with an amused grin.
Alina then looked over the other Grisha in their bedraggled kefta. 
“Tolya, Tamar, Mal, you’ll walk beside me with the Apparat.” She lowered her voice. “Try to look confident and, regal.” 
“I have a question-” Zoya began.
 “I have about a hundred, but they’ll have to wait. I don’t want the crowd out there turning into a mob.” She responded.
Zoya glanced at Anaya before deciding to follow her
“I want everyone else interspersed with the Priestguards. This is a show of alliance.” Alina spoke
They arranged themselves in front of the doors. 
The Apparat and Alina took the lead, the Priestguards and Grisha arrayed behind them, the corpses of the fallen borne aloft by their brothers.
 “Vladim, open the doors.” she commanded
The doors flew upon. Alina threw out her hands and let light blast into the passageway. A cry went up from the people lining the tunnel. Those who weren’t already kneeling fell to their knees, and a chorus of prayer washed over them. “Speak,” Alina muttered to the Apparat. “And make it good.” 
“We have faced a great trial this day,” he declared hurriedly. “Our Saint has emerged from it stronger than before. Darkness came to this hallowed place-”
 “I saw it! Shadows climbed the walls-”cried one of the Priestguards. 
Even though they’d seen quite a lot of seemingly improbable things, Anaya too, had been quite curious as to where they’d come from.
 “But they were vanquished, as they will always be vanquished. By faith!”  continued the Apparat, 
“And by power.” Alina said, stepping forward. 
She let light sweep through the passage in a blinding cascade. 
The cries of “Sankta! Sankta!” continued as she led the Apparat and the Priestguards through the White Cathedral. 
She escorted the Apparat to his quarters herself with Mal and Tolya trailing them.
                     ......………………………………………...... 
None of them looked too badly off. Nadia’s lip was swollen, and Maxim, a healer back from the Little Palace was tending to a cut over Stigg’s eye.
 It was the first time they'd been allowed to gather underground. 
“What the hell is going on?” Sergei asked as soon as Alina had dismissed Vladim. “One minute I’m in the infirmary with Maxim, the next I’m in a cell.” He paced back and forth. 
“Calm down, you’re not behind bars now.” Tamar spoke
 “I might as well be. We’re all trapped down here. And that bastard is just looking for a chance to get rid of us.”
 “If you want out of the caves, then this is your opportunity,” Alina said. “We’re leaving. Tonight.”
 “How?” Stigg asked
 As an answer, she let sunlight flare for a brief moment in her palm, as proof that her power had come back to her. 
The room erupted into whistles and cheers. 
“Yes, yes, the Sun Summoner can summon. And all it took was a few deaths and a minor explosion.” Zoya spoke in a disinterested tone
 “You blew something up?” said Harshaw plaintively. “Without me?”
 He was wedged up against the wall next to Stigg. 
Both inferni were utterly opposite in appearance. Stigg was short and stocky with nearly white blond hair. He had the solid, stubby appearance of a prayer candle. Harshaw was tall and rangy, his hair redder than Genya’s, nearly the color of blood.
 A scrawny orange tabby had somehow made her way down to the bowels of the White Cathedral and taken a liking to him. She followed him everywhere, slinking between his legs or clinging to his shoulder. 
“Where did those blasting powders come from?” Alina asked as she sat next to Nadia and Adrik on the edge of her bed.
 “I made them when I was supposed to be making salve,” David spoke. “Just like the Apparat said.” 
“Right under the noses of the Priestguards?” she asked
 “It’s not as if they know anything about the Small Science.” 
“Well, somebody must. You got caught.”
 “Not exactly,” said Mal. He’d stationed himself by the doorway with Tamar, each of them keeping an eye on the passage beyond.
 “David knew we were meeting in the Kettle, and he guessed about the master flue.” Genya said
 David frowned. “I don’t guess.” 
“But there was no way to get the powders out of the archives, not with the guards searching everything. So we had the Apparat deliver it.” Tamar grinned. 
“You meant to get caught?”  Alina stared at them in disbelief. 
 “Turns out the easiest way to schedule a meeting is to get arrested,” Zoya said
“Do you know how risky that was?” she said in exasperation
“Blame Oretsev,” Zoya replied with a sniff. “It was his idea of a brilliant plan.”
 “It did work,” Genya said.
 Mal lifted a shoulder. “Like Sergei said, the Apparat was waiting for an opportunity to take us out of action. I figured we’d give him one.” 
“We were just never sure when you’d be in the Kettle,” Anaya spoke. “When you left the archives today, David claimed he’d forgotten something in his quarters and came by the training rooms to give us the signal”
“We knew the Apparat would be more likely to trust Tolya and Tamar, so they roughed us up a little-” Nadia added
“A lot,” put in Mal. “Then they claimed to have discovered a devious plot involving a few wicked Grisha and one very gullible tracker.” he gave a mock salute. 
“I was afraid he’d insist on putting everyone in the cells, so we claimed you were in immediate danger and that we had to get to the Kettle right away.” Tamar said
“And then we just hoped the whole kitchen wouldn’t fall in on us.” Nadia spoke with a smile
 David’s frown deepened. “It was a controlled blast. The odds that the cave’s structure would hold were well above average.”
 “Ah. Above average,” said Genya. “Why didn’t you say so?” 
“I just did.”
 “What about those shadows on the wall? Who pulled that off?” Zoya asked
 “I did it, we rigged it as a distraction.” Mal responded
Anaya noticed how tense Alina had suddenly gotten, but chose not to point it out. Sergei paced back and forth, cracking his knuckles. “You should have told us about the plan. We deserved a warning.”
 “You could have at least let me blow something up,” added Harshaw. 
Zoya gave an elaborate shrug. “I’m so sorry you felt excluded. Never mind how closely we’ve been watched and that it was a miracle we weren’t found out. We definitely should have jeopardized the whole operation to spare your feelings.”
Alina cleared her throat. “In less than an hour, I’ll be leading services with the Apparat. We’ll leave directly after that, and I need to know who’s going with me.”
“Any chance you’re going to tell us where the third amplifier is?” Zoya asked. 
Anaya had known about the firebird, but not exactly where Alina had hoped to find it. 
“The less you know, the safer we’ll be.” Mal shook his head.
 “So you’re not even telling us where we’re going?” Sergei spoke sulkily. 
“Not quite. We’re going to attempt to make contact with Nikolai Lantsov.” Alina responded
Nikolai
Anaya wondered if he'd survived. Though she did believe that given the boy's enthusiasm, he'd even have managed to carve a ship out of a rock. 
 “I think we should try Ryevost,” Tamar said. 
“Go to the river cities? Why?” Alina asked 
“Sturmhond had smuggling lines throughout Ravka. It’s possible Nikolai is using them to get arms into the country. If the rumors are true and he’s based somewhere in the north, then there’s a good chance the drop point near Ryevost is active.” she responded
 “That’s a lot of maybe and not much more,” Harshaw spoke
 Mal nodded. “True. But it’s our best lead.” 
“And if it’s a dead end?” Sergei asked.
 “We split up, we find a safe house where you can lie low, and I take a team to find the firebird.” Mal said
 “You’re welcome to remain here,” Alina said to the rest of them. “I know the pilgrims aren’t friendly to Grisha, and after tonight, I’m not sure how sentiment will change. But if we’re captured aboveground-”
 “The Darkling doesn’t deal kindly with traitors,” finished Genya quietly. 
Everyone shifted uncomfortably. Anaya glanced at Genya’s somber expression.
“No. He doesn’t.” Alina responded
 “He’s had his shot at me, I’m going.” A bold look washed over Genya
Zoya smoothed the cuff of her coat. “We’d move faster without you.” 
“I’ll keep up,” she countered. 
“See that you do, we’ll be entering an area crawling with militias, not to mention the Darkling’s oprichniki. You’re recognizable,” Mal said to Genya. 
“So is Tolya, for that matter.” Tamar’s lips twitched.
 “Would you like to be the one to tell him he can’t come?” Mal asked. “Maybe we can disguise him as a really big tree.”
“I’m coming along". Anaya’s words made everyone’s attention turn to her.
“I’ve had quite some experience with keeping a low profile. Besides, I would go berserk if I remain here any longer” she shrugged
 “See you in an hour,” Adrik shot to his feet as he declared. 
“Well, I’m going then. Someone has to make sure that Nasrazeen doesn’t get lost somewhere in these dank caves” Zoya said with a rather smug expression.
“Oh really Nazyalensky? Just accept that the humidity here is murdering all that hair of yours” Anaya rolled her eyes
“You're not wrong” Zoya shrugged
 Harshaw rose and pushed off from the wall. “I’d prefer to stay, but Oncat says we go.” He hefted the tabby onto his shoulder with one hand.
 “Are you ever going to name that thing?” Zoya asked.
 “She has a name.”
 “Oncat is not a name. It’s just Kaelish for cat.” 
“Suits her, doesn’t it?”
Zoya rolled her eyes and flounced out the door, followed by Anaya, Harshaw and then Stigg, who gave a polite bow and said, “I’ll be ready.”
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bu1410 · 11 months ago
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Since TUMBLR won't allow to post more than 4,500 carachters I'm obliged to put an additional post in order to complete the report of
Ch. I - August 1975 - Italy - Tunisia – Algeria – Morocco – Spain – France – Italy.
BENALMADENA COSTA - SPAIN Luxurious residence, swimming pool right in front of the entrance to the apartment, we were already looking forward to the two weeks of complete relaxation after so much travelling. We were close to the fence, it was very early, and my friend uncle's family were certainly still sleeping.
''Let's try to guess who owns the clothes hanging out to dry, right in front of the apartment windows'' I told Gianluigi. . Then suddenly something unexpected happens: the door of the apartment opens and an elderly lady comes out, dressed with a nightgown: she didn't look like Mrs. Proserpio at all! We look at each other bewildered:
''Maybe the apartment booked was not available, and the management assigned another one?'' It was my friend guess.....
''Well .......it happens sometimes...'' I reply. At this point we went to Residence reception in order to ask where the Proserpio family is staying. The kind receptionist consults a list and than, with a smile says:
''Disculpa, but Senora Proserpio called me' and canceled the apartment reservation'' -WHAAAAT??
Yes, asi es…….disculpa Senor…. Disconcertion - great - mine and Gianluigi's……….also because August 15th in the Costa del Sol - as in many other parts of Europe is the peak of the summer season. ''Do you have a free apartment for the next 15 days''? We ask hopefully. ''Forgive me, but the residence is complete''.
And this was the phrase we heard repeated from the ''1267 hotels'' where we asked for a room for the whole holiday, along the coast from Benalmadena to Torremolinos and surrounding areas. Desperate, but not defeated, we resorted to ''Plan B'': the tent! We had brought, just in case, the tent purchased a year earlier from Bertoni Camping for the holiday in Riccione '68. And now it was good to have it! We found a campsite but? Worn out! And what do we do? We installed our tent just beside the campsite entrance, so we could use the campsite services without paying a pesetas! In short, a reckless life, just a week, to allow the mid-August crowd to leave and vacate some apartments. We found an apartment just a week later in Benalmadena: a decent residence, but at this point we certainly couldn't be picky. Having found a roof for the day (we used to spent the night somewhere else) we only had to find a place to refresh ourselves in the evening, and once again our lucky stars met us: we discovered el ''Restaurante de Raoul! ''. He was an Argentinian by origin, married to an Italian woman, and domiciled in Biella, Italy. For the summer of 1975 he had rented a small restaurant on the road between Benalmadena and Torremolinos, and delighted the customers in a mix of Argentine, Spanish and Italian cuisine. The female cook was Spanish, and Roul had brought his twelve-year-old son from Italy, but not his wife, since she was managing a Bed & Breakfast in Biella. It was our luck: not only did the cook prepare us timbales of macaroni, delicious fish baked in foil, but we had become friends with Roul: so off to the aperitifs and sangria that flowed like rivers! And at the end of dinners Raoul was always asking us:
What do you want to pay??!!
In short, it was a lucky step from the unfortunate surprise of the Mr. Proserpio's non-arrival and we had few ''dias feliz''. By the way, we learned more about the reasons for Mr. Proserpio's giving up, once we returned home. They had arrived - it seems - all the way to Alicante, where they had had mechanical problems with the Opel Rekord they were traveling with. Hence the (absurd) decision to turn around, return to Italy, and cancel the reservation of the apartment in Benalmadena (did we recover the deposit? No, that was lost too…) Until the end of August nothing special to report, just a quiet life, sea-pool-sleepless nights, big moguls in the evening and revelry chez Roul. Then, inevitably, the day of returning to Italy arrived, and a request from Raoul literally left us speechless: - Guys, you know that I trust you, right? - Yes Raoul… - Well I ask you a favor: my son has to start school again soon, and I instead will have to stay here at least until the end of September - So? - If you agree, could you take him with you to Italy? The car is big, and there are only two of you…. - Well…yes……why not? This will only make us take a detour towards Biella, but in a journey of over 2,000 km it's a small thing in the end…… In truth we had decided to accept, given that, as it was the end of the holiday, money was scarce. So we were counting on the help that would certainly come from Raoul, since he would surely provide his son with a sum of money for a trip of at least 3 days……. (or not?). The moment we start our journey back to Italy, it always brings mixed feeling: returning home, seeing relatives and friends..... but also sadness for the end of the holidays, and the awareness that the easy life of the Saniard's was over. And we'll have to wait a whole year to the next holiday…. We left Benalmadena in the morning (not early because Gianluigi let's say he wasn't an ''early bird' guy) and the first stop was Valencia, some 800 km away, where we arrived in the evening. A drab city then, later the European Community funds and investments for the America's Cup sailing will transform it into a more pleasant place. That evening we choose a typical Valencian restaurant, because it is true that the city was not so nice like other Spain's cities, but the Valencian cuisine is excellent, starting with the famous ''Paella a la Valenciana''. The restaurant is called El Pederniz, typical local cuisine. Great feast of seafood appetizers, cold and hot, then paella para todos, and finally ''Arnadi'', a typical Valencian postre, a mixture of pumpkin and sugar, cooked in the oven and subsequently decorated with almonds and pine nuts. All washed down with excellent Blanco Bodega Reto.
We pay, but we were certain that Paolino (Raoul's son) will have enough money in store to guarantee us a night in a hotel nearby, but..... INSTEAD NO!!! After leaving the restaurant and returning to the car, while we were discussing which hotel to choose for the night, Gianluigi asked the fateful question that we should have asked BEFORE departure: - Paolino how much money did your dad give you? - Nothing…….. - ……….Silence……. - How….nothing? - Yes, says Paolino after a hesitation, Dad said that you would take care of everything…….'' - Machecazzzzzz……………..(Italian bad word) And now we were in the sh*****… if we had known we wouldn't have spent all those pesetas in the best restaurant of Valencia. But than it was like that.... cursing Raoul and sending him all the insults in Spanish we know, I started the car and go out of Valencia, took the motorway again, and then stopped at the first service area and slept in the car. Lucky for us, the Citroen DS19 has a paddle shift and front-wheel drive, so it was equipped with seats which, when lowered, form a comfortable bed. And this is how we slept, and how we would sleep next night too. After a trip in which we spoke little, we then took Paolino to Biella - his mother was very happy to see him again after more than two months of absence. The kind Lady also hosted us for lunch (goodness of her…) after which we set off for the last stage, towards our hometown. (sigh)
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Benalmadena - Spain
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plasticfangtastic · 2 years ago
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Can we be lonely together? Ch. 8
A Homelander X Stalker! reader
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This is a G/N reader fic, a slow burn fic and as off now almost 100 page novella at least according to the google doc... oh and also a Supe! reader fic. Long chapter ahead!!!
Author note: I'm too self indulgent but i promise the ending is coming soon. might have the next chapter done by the end of the wk, but work is wearing me down mentally. I will edit one day UwU Previous chapters in the #my fic tag in me blog
Sypnosis: You've become enamored with Vought Number 1 hero and will do anything to gain his affections... he just won't like the lenghts you took to get him to like you.
R18+ blood, murder and cannibalism mention, light smut, S.A. mention. Homie is a little OOC
Chapter 8
Canapes for Cannibals.
Trembling with fear, watching your eyes water, I feel the sting of your grip as you try removing my hands off your face, stammering your whimpers, clutching at me unsure of how much strenght to give.
“Are you even real?” Your voice is crumbling– I don’t need this… I… I fucked up… he hates me, and now I’m seeing things” your voice a broken mess.
Lonesome tears cleansed your cheeks better than I ever could.
“I’m right here. I… I am right here, Homelander. Mi sol…”
“No!” The leather of your gloves squeaking as it cracks my wrist, my fingers turning blue as I wince into my teeth– What are you doing here? Thought you were fucking your fancy journo fucko!”
I could feel the sound of your thoughts coming back to me, muffled echoes from across the street, pedestrians around us too loud to understand what you’re saying, this building too busy. 
I couldn’t help cupping your face, leaning closer wanting to kiss you– to comfort you.
“You’re my last, remember– why would I look for anybody else, John? If I don’t expect to survive you– Now tell me what happened? Why did you came home looking like this…?”
You nodded your head reluctantly, softening your grip, watching my fingers regain their color.
Watching me like I’m a stranger, wishing for me to be a mere hallucination. 
“He hates me…”
“He was probably startled… now go and get all of this off, and I’ll go check on your boy.”
“What the fuck do you know about being a parent!? Or Ryan!?”
More than you, if I am honest– I’ll admit I thought that.
“John. Anybody would be frightened if you showed up covered in guts… you got some pancreas in your hair.”
The way my voice stood still, so coldy that it didn’t seemed natural anymore, you thought it was rehearsed, it unsettled you.
“Not you? Used to seeing guts?” You chuckled, taking a step back from me forcing a stiff laugh from between your teeth– you… you’re a piece of work. You toy me around and then act worried, showing up in my house unnanouce saying you want to help me! I don’t need your bullshit!! It's not like I’m your boyfriend! Aren’t I just a fucktoy!? Who the fuck are you!? Who are you really!?”
You shouted. I am sure even my neighbors heard your bellows.
So I offered you some truths to ease your weary soul, you wanted anything to distract you from your own mess, after all and I always indulged you.
“I don’t consider myself a serial killer but legally speaking I could qualify as such.” I ignored you moving to the bathroom, not bothering to raise my voice while I picked towels– career criminals more like it… after I ran away from my foster home– back when I was a teen. I met some mobsters, and they helped me achieve my full potential. Don’t get me wrong, they helped me get through community college and stuff, as long as I did my job of course, but that’s back before my knees got too old for my age.”
You stood still even as I handed you the towels.
“I can tell you all about my rough upbringing after you stop using me as an excuse to ignore the actual issue upstairs. I fucked up. I should’ve been here instead of wasting time with Kent, and I’m sorry.” Now I’m the one whimpering inside my own grave– I’m not a good person… John… I’ve hurt people just to keep my belly full. For fun. For no reason. But always on purpose, why would you want someone like me around?” my stomach sank– I don’t deserve to love you.”
It all made sense at this moment, what I wanted to fight the most against.
This attachment that took hold of me with the same intensity as a head-on collision on the freeway.
“I came ‘cuz I wanted to apologize… that’s why I brought” I moved away from you doing my darndest to not look at your face, or listen to you. Picking up my desserts– I know you don’t care for Ice cream but… forget it. Just clean up and I assure you the kid is fine.”
He was fine, just embarrassed about his outburst.
“Is that your superpower? Telepathy?”
“Being a tech-wiz isn’t enough in this economy… you need a master degree just to get minimum wage.” I place the snacks on your coffee table– but yeah. You two have been right a couple times…”
“You two…? What are you talking about?” How cute seeing you try to hide it.
“Your friend… your father, mother and brother all-in-one package. Homelander… the one that kept you safe back in the bad room.” I murmured while heading to the nearest mirror, catching your bloody reflection– this guy. I see him… just like you do.”
“Hi John… Hi Homelander… Do you have a real name? ‘cuz I’ll just call you Jon, or would you prefer Jean? Actually Homie should be fine.”
Must’ve looked stupid waving at the mirror, my eyes seeing an absence of movement but superimposed was the sight of that other you awkwardly moving its hand side to side.
“You really didn’t even hesitate from the get go. Talking to us both… is like you didn’t want to hide it while saying nothing”
“I didn’t. You don’t like liars.”
“And yet…” You squeeze the stuffing out of the couch– you lied to me. You went out of your way to hurt me!"
“I was protecting you.”
“You call this protecting me?”
You point at the dozen bags and wet buckets around us.
“I wasn’t ready to let you know ‘bout my powers! I had to make sure things around us were perfect before I told you! Is that so hard to get!?”
“You don’t get to make that decision. You brainwashed me! erased my memories!”
“That’s a bit rich coming from you!”
We both stared at each other while the meat rot around us.
"I would've loved you the same... I would've been happier with you if I knew from the start. He would've been happier too..."
"You say that... but not even my parents wanted me... nobody ever has... because I'm not intune with people... I am voyeur. and sooner than later I would've wore you down."
“Not that it matters” 
Wish you hadn’t made eye-contact with me, catching that white cloud washing over your baby blues.
“Forget the last minute. And get cleaned up John one and two… I’ll be here so calm down.”
I know my voice sounds like it’s underwater, a blanket covers you, your heartbeat pauses and restarts with a calmed steady beat, a wave of calmness washing you, the blur in your eyes fades completely returning me the eyes I’ve craved so often.
“I don’t want your apologies.”
“I’ll leave. Is basque cheesecake– not too sweet I promise.” I wanted to let you keep those memories but at least I’ve said it outloud  ‘just keep the bad to make this easier for me’ I thought to myself–  Thank you for offering me the cabin.”
I gave the other you a glimpse, wishing I could talk to this one instead, as I made my way out your house, putting the key you gifted me back by the hall table.
“You think I’m a serial killer, too? I killed lots of people… I let a whole plane fall into the ocean. I killed a congressman, I had a wannabe VP assassinated, I killed Madelyn and Noir and I might kill that cuck wearing Noir’s suit– and I loved them both. I killed people who flirted with my property, I killed a guy just for fucking up my coffee, I killed my teacher! The first time I got laid” You chuckled stiffly– I was 15 and they wanted me to develop properly, no jerking off for me! So they got me… I guess an escort…? They told me I had to do it! and after I was done-- like 30 seconds later… she just had to laugh… so I squeezed her neck until it resembled a straw, the third time I fucked somebody– I panicked because well fucking men is wrong. I killed a bunch of hostages the first time they let me out, and so many… many… fucking worthless cocksuckers.”
Your voice wavering, spitting quickly your confession feeling your mouth painfully dry. Your chest heavy but your mind was being cleansed– I had become a confessional booth without being a saintly man of the cloth to absolve you.
“Do you feel bad about it? I feel bad sometimes… not about all of them… just some of them. But I still sleep soundly from time to time.”
“Noir. I killed him when all he wanted was to protect me… my father… he was… bad.” The memory makes you whimper, your eyes red as your lips twitched– I loved him… How could I do that to him? The plane I could’ve steered– maybe? I dunno… I was afraid I would fuck it up again with Madelyn and the board! and this fucker” You pointed at your clothes– because it made Ryan upset with me!”
“I don’t care then. I knew you killed people… I stole some of your files.”
“If I didn’t feel bad would you care?”
“I would be surprised if that was the case.”
“... You don’t think I’m a bad person? Unredeemable garbage?”
“You’re bad but I think you weren’t always trying to be bad… I don't think I ever thought I could be anything but bad... so I’m just as bad… maybe worse. I had a choice, and I always picked the wrong ones…”
“I picked bad ones… always… until now nobody's opinion mattered, they encouraged it and covered it, so why bother to change… and now I want to change for my son– but I can’t.”
You stood there looking so frail.
“I don’t think that’s true. You could still change… I think a part of you still wants to do good, even if you aren’t sure what that might be… me? I dunno what I’m gonna do now.” I tried to forcibly laugh to try to ease the tension– any suggestions? What should I do?”
“Love me… please.” Your hand catches my shoulder– If you don’t mind all my bad… I won’t mind your bad.”
Your kiss tasted like iron, pushing me against the wall, your hands dirtying my cheeks without care. Your lips pushing me and pulling me, clumsily dancing as you try to force your affection-- our tango was one sided but I soon gave in, I hesitated kissing you back but I had no self-control. 
Wanting to make a home in your lips I held you until we matched.
“I love you. I love you, Homelander… I love you, John. Mi sol... if you let me... can I love you?” 
"Love me... that's all I ask of you..."
We both laughed against each other, I never been happier than at that moment– not that I could recall anyhoo.
“I go get change… your shirt…”
“Is okay… I got layers.”
Watching you obey my awful little command, I headed upstairs, your Son’s mind beating itself, I threw my dirty jumper down the rail after cleaning most of your leftovers off my face, feeling the crash incomming.
All I needed was to hold on for a couple more minutes.
My powers were a mess. I wished I was better at this… a supe that struggles to control their powers… pathetic. I reached your son’s placing the peace offering by the slit of the open door, He’s watching me carefully, pretending to be asleep, but he feels far more predatory than you at this moment.
“Hey Ryan… is me… hope everything is okay. Your dad brought you something.” I sounded very awkward– Hey bud he really didn’t mean to scare you…”
“I know.” He moves fast– seems he’s developing too quickly. I heard him thud against the door within the second– He’s upset isn’t he?”
“Your father is a very sensitive man… delicate even… is not your fault he just thinks he hurt you.”
Ryan watched me in the most uneasy of ways, I could tell I was falling out of favor, he had heard some of our conversation downstairs with little red sparkles in his eyes.
“Can I open this door? I just want to make sure you’re alright.”
Still a child, he meekly opened the door eyeing the ice cream pint before me, and unlike you he was easier on my neurons.
A cloudy haze thicker than I've ever seen engulfed his sight.
“Be a good child, have your cake and have a heart-to-heart with daddy… then go to sleep. Sleep soundly, Ryan.”
“Sure…” 
Staying quiet, I got away from your kid, your mind still mellow and both of you over the moon. 
“He seems alright” 
I whispered, surprised to see smoke coming out of your towel as you rather viciously towel-dried your hair, based on the trail of dirty towels behind, you wanted every microscopic dot of blood off your person before letting your kid catch a whiff, altho I’ve never seen a towel be set alight by friction alone.
“How do you cut your hair?”
You raise an eyebrow, combined with your playful smile you seemed to enjoy this question.
“Very sharp scissors and on my own, straight razor for my face– just needs a bit of pressure.”
“Cool. Altho I don’t think your maid would appreciate you burning the towels– Ryan is eating so maybe join him.”
“What Maid?”
“Ms. Cha? The lady that’s been cleaning your house for the last twenty years.”
I laid down on your couch, feeling the inevitable.
“I… I never noticed. Twenty years!?”
“If it makes you feel better, she thinks you’re less messy than her kids, and you leave your shit covered in blood all the time…”
“Really?”
That made you happy. I watched you fly to the next floor
“Twenty years!? How?”
Here’s my favorite part.
Almost breaking my neck as I trip on your mess, I can hear you sussurating– your conversation is klutzy and gawky, neither party able to convey properly, I wished I could say I cared about what you two were saying but I was busy puking my guts, my head finally permitted to file a formal complaint against me, between scallops and my bloodied nose I could barely crawl to the bath-tub soaking my face under the faucet, my brain on fire.
Falling unconscious to the sound of your apologies. 
Watching your memories I knew you found me close to drowning, my nose an inch or two above water as I just sat in the heated pink pool before you came in and threw me into the floor checking on my pulse with your hands for some reason.
Walking up in your bed with damp hair, your ears focusing on me.
You don’t ask questions, just studying faded marks in between my toes, you could smell Compound V in my veins even if it had been weeks since I last took it. 
“Still taking heroin?” you ask, indulging in a lie for once in your life– if you’re going to be around my kid I need you clean. You got any idea how bad it would reflect on me if the press got a hold of your little habit.”
My head is pounding with the sounds of this building, down to the thoughts of mices and their everyday worries, your boy sounds asleep dreaming of owning a pair of dogs, and here is you picturing a different version of me-- I could tell you could heard the sound of my swollen brain and the discomfort in my throat, dried blood flaking inside my nostrils, I nodded.
“I killed Roman. I followed you during your date then I found Roman.”
I was speechless.
“How did you do it?”
“His driver was taking him somewhere and I made the car swerve, got in front of it just in case the tree wouldn’t kill them… the blood was from the driver smashing against me.” You pause to play with my hair– he was alive… and I just broke his neck.”
“Liar.”
“I might’ve scared them a bit… so they could go fifty or eighty over the speed limit.”
“That’s better. You made it look like an accident, right? No proof you were there.”
“I thought you would be more upset.”
“My head hurts too fucking much right now to care… now I need you to tell me word for word everything that you did so I can make sure it looks like a fucking accident.”
“I have it covered… not my first rodeo, babe.”
You kissed me not caring about the smell on my breath, shoving yourself further into the blankets forcing yourself into my arms, there’s a smoky smell to your hair but not a burnt end on sight.
“You don’t need to meet that journo anymore. You don’t have to leave Vought and you can stop worrying about that guy coming after you.” kissing me more– now you can focus on important things. Us for example.”
“Assuming you don’t go to prison this time.” I could see the movie in your head, my life in a prairie dressed in pretty clothes, my hair a little messier than usual, and the sound of the stove sizzling, there’s another kid pulling at my clothes and we have a dog barking on the front porch while Ryan and you read your favorite book “Fight Club” together– John…”
“I’ll protect you from now on… I’m a superhero. I’m the fucking definition of a Superhero! I don’t wanna hear about Roman ever again, or your side-hustles! From now on we can be together. So call off whatever you had with the journalist.”
“Maybe after we have dinner with him and his husband.”
“Why would I do that?”
“My friend Dolores is unveiling the restaurant’s new menu now that she’s the new head chef… she’s aiming for her Michelin, you see… and me and Kent are going… if my future husband was so kind as to support me while I support my best friend I would greatly appreciate it, is a big night for her–
Your mouth looked smaller than your eyes, the way you lifted yourself pushing me down, your jaw stammering, your heart so loud that it’s all you can hear in your head. 
“--you just killed one of your biggest competitors, and one of the richest men in the country… for me. Nobody I’ve ever known would do such a thing for me…  I should marry you if you let me. If I could... could I?”
There’s a nice shade of coral colouring your eyes and the sheets around us, for a second you lost control of your blinkers.
This must’ve have been the perfect day for crying, you seemed so happy as you made love to me, so hungrily, I didn’t need my powers to know I fired something in you, not once had you held me so tenderly, not once did you treat me so kindly, Your hunger and the emptiness you were so familiar with faded away, I could feel my own clinging as I watched you picturing our wedding day… you were so corny… it was beyond cute.
From this night forward things went rosy.
Even those beneath you could see that your mood had changed, most brushing it to you enjoying parenthood, it had been good for your ratings and the company’s image-- after all. 
You suddenly appeared more approachable and relatable, the public pondering on your struggles as a single parent became a popular topic seeing just how admirable you were, and Ryan was sweet every kid wanted to be like him and everybody wanted a piece of him, soon he would be on lunchboxes if you gave your blessing to put him in a suit yet as eager as you were nothing they had given you was perfect fit for your son, and people called you a DILF left and right rubbing your ego just the way you liked. 
But in private I got to enjoy a happier side of you, you still had your bite and snark, your awful habits but now it seemed you felt at peace with your demons, I didn't judge them, I accepted your brutality and appreciated my efforts to conceal such unpleasantries from your son.
You joined me (albeit begrudgingly) for degustations, your palette unrefined for a man used to eating fine cuisine, for having two private chefs you sure had issue understanding the art, but watching you try to make sense of foams, foods disguised as other foods, or the depth and story presenting itself on this fifteen course dinner was exciting, your stomach full by the sixth plate, so it was even more exciting to see you do your darnest to stomach this meal, just to make sure I looked good, after all there was press around us.
You interacted courtly, you’ve been trained well… but behind your poised smile you did your best to interact with Kent disguising perfectly your murderous gaze, having your expectations subverted by the presence of his socialite millionaire husband, surprised that Kent was a homosexual... but that failed to dissuade your jealousy.
But you did behave.
You spend time in my home, our relationship continue away from the public eye, you had began looking forward to dinner, I would cook for you no matter how tired I was, you made sure to let The Deep know not to overwork me, forcing my surviving coworkers to pick of after me, I enjoyed the special treatment, I enjoyed our secret dates, I somewhat enjoyed being taken gallantly in your arms to fancy european addresses as we broke borders laws, our outings and picnics in secret with your son, like having fresh porchetta sandwiches while picnicking at the stomach churning hills of Monte Baldo with Ryan.
So I behaved too.
A little bit.
I felt guilty putting a bug in Ryan’s phone and his computer, but I only did so I could make sure he was doing alright in his new school to make sure how to support you better. 
I felt a little guilty when I put a bug on Ashley’s phone to make sure she wasn’t going to betray you suddenly, your ears could only listen to so much and with my powers a secret I had to actually have proof of things, just in case.
In my spare time I would sit in front of my screens just watching and processing audio files, for you.
I would watch and replay hundreds of images, until my eyelids fought with me, your every move gave me homework and my every move had to be the perfectly graded in response.
On a peculiar afternoon this dream had to crumble, as all things do.
“You have no idea how much grief he’s going to give me, once he smells you on me."
I sat on Kent’s armchair, surrounded by his wall of professional accolades.
“I can’t just send you this shit in an email! Look now that Roman is dead I know you didn’t want this in a hurry… but this could make me bigger than Larry King, I could be the next Anderson Cooper– fuck! You think Woodward hit it big with Watergate! This is my Watergate! Vought it’s done for, shit will crumble if this hits the presses and if you didn’t know my address I would have slapped this shit on the front page by ‘morrow!”
He screamed quietly, inside his empty apartment music playing just loud enough to block our voices, this six million dollar apartment was straight out of the pages of Architectural Digest, it screamed old money and it was the reason Kent lived there.
“Everything I’ve ever wanted in life– my name written in the annals of history! To put me as one of the greatest Journalists of all time is right here! but I have to give this back! Because we’re friends.”
“You’re only doing this because Homelander will kill you. I know you don’t care much for Bruno or the seven kids you got, but you don’t need to pretend you’re a good person with me Kent.”
“I don’t want to die. I don’t want my kids to die… or Bruno just for the record! You should leave him.”
He handed me the hard-drive rather urgently.
“The moment he finds out you got this before he did– he will kill you. Maybe after he recreates 9/11 and tumbles that tower over…”
“What’s in this?”
“Leave him. Throw that shit in a microwave and leave him, my guy… my hacker guy, I had to ask Dolores to get rid of him just to make sure there’s no loose ends. She made canapes for her little cannibal group with him! I had to ask to contact your old gang friends to track down all of his friend to check the fucker didn’t spill anything! So leave Homelander now! Y/N I care ‘bout you, we been friends for a long time but this information is not something you can toy with.”
“Thank you Kent... but I can’t leave him. I love him. Whatever this is that has you so riled up won’t make me leave him.”
“Don’t ever set foot in my home ever again. I might not be a great husband or father but I won’t let you be the reason I lose Bruno and the kids. It was nice working with you– somebody of your talent will surely find greener pastures.”
The way he watched me wasn’t much different from you this evening.
“You mean that?”
“It was nice knowing you, Now leave! Audrey!-- Please don’t die over a man… the Y/N that I know… knew… wasn’t this stupid.” 
The maid promptly escorted me.
I made it home feeling rather hollow– making the whole thing with you murdering Kent rather pointless considering he had no genuine desire to ever see me again. 
I sat in my room listening to your text messages ringing in the background, the little backlight for this horror film.
I headed back to the Tower with a sense of urgency, you weren’t there instead you were dealing with a sudden disaster that needed your attention after all you had two new rookies to show the ropes to, and when this shit happens Heroes are needed.
I knocked on somebody else’s door not caring if the cameras could see me.
“We need to talk, Kevin.”
The Deep looked at me confusedly, more shocked that I addressed him by his first name.
“What brings you here? And did you just call me Kevin!?”
“work, dipshit. Now let me in, we need to talk.”
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echoghost1 · 1 year ago
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Five Fav Fics
got tagged by @jackdaw-sprite to pick 5 of my favorite fics that I've written! (here's their list)
this is gonna be hard cuz I have over 100 to chose from... ( ╯□╰ )
at least they don't have to be complete right?
Under the read more are the ones I chose
These aren't in order, just five that I picked
Carnival Mythika
Summary: What starts as a fun day at the carnival takes a turn after an innocent mistake. Danny gets separated from his friends at the carnival and asks the fortune teller for help to put him in the right direction, or maybe just back to the place he last saw them, the Cryptid Zoo.
Reason: this fic is my baby 😭 it's practically a novel and it really won't be that hard to change a few things and make this an original story because of how much of an AU it is. It's not done yet and it's taking me forever to write mostly because I keep having to take breaks because the emotional parts are so fricken heavy. Danny goes through it. he has a horrible time and it's all emotional trauma If you haven't read it, which it's an over 60k incomplete work with lots of angst and heavy topics, so I don't blame you. BUT if you wanna just read ch. 3 and let me know what you think (*^-^*)
Lively Conversations In Dead Man’s Land
Summary: Danny goes on a voluntary field trip to help his suffering grades.
Reason: This is one of the first fics I ever wrote way back in 2013 during PhannieMay (now DannyMay). The prompt was Western and I just went ham with a fluffy GrayGhost field trip fic. I had so much fun writing it and I still enjoy it today.
Quoth the Librarian, “But I’m Alone?”
Summary: Eleanor loved her job at the school library. She always made sure to come in early to make sure everything was just right before the students came. Today something beat her there.
Reason: One of the many fics I wrote for my first phic phight (2021) that I liked but it didn’t get much traction. The premise is simple, just a “what happened to this side character after a scene from the show” + making up a random OC that may never be used again.
Parallels
Summary: It's amazing the things you learn on a field trip.
Reason: My take on a reveal fic where Maddie & Danny try to have a normal mother-son bonding time during a field trip only for Danny to get triggered by something innocuous. A big part of the reason I’m proud of it was because I figured the trigger was so obvious but every comment that mentioned it was surprised by how perfect it was despite having never thought of it themselves.
A Night in La Casa del Sol
Summary: La Casa del Sol is an abandoned Bed and Breakfast on the North end of town, which like any good dilapidated building, has the reputation of being haunted. Paulina may act like an airhead, but she can still put two and two together. If her favorite ghost only comes out of hiding when there's another ghost around, she sure hopes her Abuela was right about the place. Danny is fist clueless, and then just confused, but mostly wants to make sure Paulina doesn't get hurt. Besides, what's the worst that could happen? Another sleepless night?
Reason: Even though it took me a while to add the final chapter to this one I think it was worth the wait. I had fun with a more classic haunted house type horror of Paulina and Danny exploring the old B&B together. That and that last chapter man, I don’t want to spoil it if you haven’t read it or if you did and forgot (it has been three years since I posted that final chapter lol)
And honorable mention goes to...
I think it would be illegal for me not to mention jackdaw’s favorite bedtime story 😜
Lost and Found
Summary: His parents had always warned him about the dangers in the woods.
Reason: Fae AU! Lost Time flavored Fae AU even! Also, like I said, Jackdaw really enjoys it If you don’t believe me check the comment section on that fic But I also really like it too. It was fun to write and it had my two favorite things, an au and taking an idea someone else did but putting my own spin on it! Fun fact: the final spoken bit of dialogue was actually the very first line that I thought of. It’s what made me write this story. It was just so good. And I’m happy to report that it did in fact pay off
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whispers-everywhere · 8 months ago
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Mmm fuck I love videogame male characters
Meme template: https://www.deviantart.com/blueberry-lollipop/art/Blueberry-Meme-842344318
Characters list:
Ser/gea/nt Ar/ch Dor/nan (Fall/out 2)
Sol/dier (Te/am Fort/ress 2)
Lee/pky, Fee/nger and Boo/raw/chick (Van/gers: on/e f/or th/e ro/ad)
De/dan (OF/F)
Lam/bert Hei/sen/berg, Br/ad (Ha/ve a ni/ce de/ath)
Grave/lord Ni/to (Da/rk So/uls)
The Pe/ni/tent O/ne (Blas/phe/mous)
The Sin/gu/la/ri/ty / HUX-A7-13 (De/ad by day/light)
Al/es Man/say / The ma/gi/cian (Ray/man Ori/gins)
The de/aler (Buck/shot rou/lette)
Car/los Ca/la/ca, Fl/ame Fa/ce (Gua/ca/melee!)
Fau/st (Gui/lty Ge/ar Str/ive)
AM / All/ied Mas/ter/com/puter (I ha/ve no mo/uth and I mu/st scr/eam)
Bi/g Da/ddy (Bio/shock)
Man/uel "Man/ny" Cala/vera, Hec/tor Le/Ma/ns (Gr/im Fan/dan/go)
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