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casspireta · 3 years ago

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A Loud Coming Out

Monster Prom/Camp

Zoe x Reader

Zoe is tired of being deadnamed, thus you two plan the biggest coming out.

Words: 1.5k

TW Transphobia, Light Mentions of Transphobia, Reader Insert, Fluffy Ending

by Kalypso (@ypso-cryptic on Tumblr)

You were chilling with Zoe by the lake, reading her fanfiction. It was conveniently in a tablet, since last time she wrote at the lake on paper Calculester began drowning and ruined the ink. How dramatic, Cal. You were just getting to the good part, where Damien professes his undying love for Liam as Aaravi grabs her wooden stake. Camp Director Miss Weaving, however, was not fond of this.

“Is that a phone?” Have we not talked about this before,” Miss Weaving says Zoe’s dead name, as a piercing scream from the Camp Dome rolls over like usual. Miss Weaving easily snatches the tablet from the tentacle holding it.

Rolling her eyes, Zoe says “One, it’s not a phone, it’s my writing tablet. Two, my name is NOT-” Scott begins to howl, having just “pranked” Dahlia into playing tag with him, although she would do that either way.

Miss Weaving is obviously not happy about Zoe talking back to her. Before she explodes, you open your mouth and spew out the same nonsense as always.

“But Miss Weaving! She’s an eldritch deity, she can easily resist the obsession of technology. She’s simply drawing it away from others, being selfless! Is it not good to be selfless?”

The camp director seems to pause, actually believing your bullshit. “Very well then, I trust you not to abuse your powers as an eldritch deity.” Returning the tablet, she goes to yell at Calculester for bringing a screen to a lake.

Zoe just stares at you in absolute shock. “Wow, you actually did that? Pretty good characterization for my next Camp Spooky fanfic; Y/N being an anti-hero. Of course, the anti-hero often dies in the end but…” She seems to brush over that last part, her mind already wandering to what direction that fanfic is going in.

It doesn’t kick into your mind just how much hearing her dead name hurt, though, at least until later at the logs. She isn’t there. You decide to check the Manor, Zoe’s favorite place for writing angst. Killer Jerry quite liked Zoe’s way with words- and the thrill of him killing others fuelled her words quite well. However, instead of her usual fic writing, Jerry is comforting her. Upon seeing someone else, you, enter, he pulls out his knife defensively.

“Did you make this angel cry?” He points an accusing finger- or, knife, before Zoe signals it wasn’t you. “Sorry, just hurts to see my favorite author hurt.”

“It’s okay Jerry, I’m sure Y/N can help me with my problem.”

With that, Jerry goes back to terrorizing Brian before realizing he’s already dead. Zoe cries in her little sadness ball that you’ve seen before, so you know immediately to pull out some Garfield-flavored snacks. She happily takes some, muttering while scarfing them down; “misff weephmmmm izz a VITH.” A regular translator of her muffled words, you decipher this as “Miss Weaving is a DICK.” She corrects you, saying “BITCH” clear as day. You pat her back, as another brilliant idea comes to mind.

“She hates loud things, right?”

Zoe nods, gripping the orange cookies in her hand. “Yeah.”

“...And she hates people accepting themselves and having fun, right?” Zoe nods again, this time crushing the cookies. “YEAH.”

“And WE love to spite her, and spite in general, right?”

Zoe gets up, excited all of a sudden. “Is this another Y/N fanfic arc?”

“No, it’s a ZOE fanfic arc.”

“I’m listening…”

You two devise a plan: staging the loudest coming out possible at Camp Spooky. It includes not only Milo getting some reaping gigs (of non-major characters, for author ease), but something to tick off Miss Weaving: surprises. Little does Zoe know you have a surprise for her too. Hopefully it doesn’t tick off the purple-skinned girl.

While plotting your surprise though, Zoe’s plans for her coming out seem to get in your way, and it’d be a dick move to ruin her coming out for her. So, you find ways around it.

First, Zoe wanted you to dress up as her in an interpretive play on how she feels stuck in her body. It’d be weird to be romantic with her afterwards in a costume that took 1 hour to put on, so you made it tear-away. It cost you money, however that is no longer a stat in Monster Camp.

Then, she completely scrapped that idea, and with that came up with a new one. She was going to set a romantic table for two with you, carefully plotted for Miss Weaving to overhear. Then, upon her realizing, a huge party would be thrown with a banner “ZOE IS TRANS YOU GOT IT!!”. Then, news paper headings would say “Local Camp Director Realizes Zoe is Trans”. However, you could no longer afford the news paper headings since you spent money making the tear-away costume. Also, her plotting a romantic table stole your thunder.

However, after many other ideas that got in your way, Zoe finally had one that aligned with yours, and you started recruiting.

You got Polly and Scott to lure Miss Weaving in the most irritating way to her possible, AKA screens on a trail. All of them are buzzing; courtesy of logging onto Milo’s Instagram.

However, on the day of the event, that’s the last thing to go right.

What was supposed to happen was Calculester jumps out of a bush and kidnaps the arachnid, but Miss Weaving had confiscated Calculester before he could continue the plan. Cal believed himself very distressed, thus sent out a signal which Miss Weaving promptly confiscated as well.

At least the prince of hell had a plan to get his robotic friend back. In the meantime, you and Zoe were waiting for your signal. Your job was simple: when Dahlia turns into a bucket with help from Joy, Milo starts a live stream with the hashtag #ZoePride. Their fans would get the message immediately, understanding Zoe is trans. The Dahlia bucket has no relevance to this, she just wants to be a bucket. The Milovers blow up social media, but what about Miss Weaving hating social media? That’s simple: Counselour Coach. Can’t keep a damn secret about the campers. Your job was just to be there for Zoe emotionally.

You and Zoe are trying a new snack flavor called “Naruto Yellow” when Aaravi comes in with the face she only wears when she has a chance at EXP.

“CALCULESTER HAS BEEN CONFISCATED!”, Aaravi yells a bit too excitedly.

Hex talks with a bit more distress, “He had our snacks!”

You turn to Zoe, and nod your head. “Don’t worry, this has happened before.”

Aaravi knew exactly what you meant, and squealed in delight. She obviously tried to hide it, though.

Thus, you went to the woods to find your robot friend. Miss Weaving was no stranger to taking him away, but you were no stranger to finding her honestly creepy house and taking him back. You and Aaravi almost had a protocol, and now Zoe gets to be in on it. The spindling walkway to it almost made Zoe trip, and she clung her tentacle to you. How romantic! Meanwhile, when Aaravi almost tripped, her sword tore your shirt a bit at the collar. She nearly fainted. Once she was back to full consciousness, Hex made fun of her as always.

Eventually, you make it there. You expected the same webbed walls, which you got. You also got Damien there, though. He was confiscated too for being a tool of destruction. Aaravi now has to fight the knights protecting the “confiscated demons” hall, and she brings you and Zoe along for the ride.

After some stabbing, brushing your hand dramatically against Zoe’s hand every now and then as you look each other in the eyes with determination to save your friends. With every knight you took down, Aaravi got a power-up until she eventually got them all. Damien is freed, and Calculester is eventually found with the other tech. He was having a pleasant conversation with Celi-phone.

When you come back, you find that Dahlia was a bucket, Milovers were cancelling Miss Weaving, and most importantly: she realized Zoe’s trans. No one had pulled the banner that ended up saying “be trans throw tentacles” hand-painted by Scott. You did that, only to see he mixed up the words to say “throw trans be tentacles”, which honestly kind of fit. You turn to Zoe, who seems to be on the verge of tears.

You try to comfort her immediately, “I’m sorry this didn’t go as planned-”

“What do you mean? Your dumb idea failed as always creating perfect fic material! You even made it extra dumb for me, I just know it.” Zoe beamed.

Ah yes, that was definitely planned. Your real plans, though, remain unaffected. After some apologies from Miss Weaving for seeming (being) transphobic, you bring Zoe to the woods again. There, you had a picnic basket full of scented pens and plushies of cats. The blanket was a bright yellow.

“Aww, Y/N, you shouldn’t have!”

“It’s your favorite things, I thought we could celebrate you coming out.”

Zoe pauses, then smirks. “One thing is missing, though.”

Shocked, embarrassed, and confused because you thought you knew everything about her like a cartoon, you ask, “What?”

She doesn’t say any words. She just kisses you.

“Oh, you meant me.”

“Of course I do. Now THIS is writing material.”

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miss-kittys-magical-library · 4 years ago

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The Ides Of March

(A Darren Treacy x Jeanie Turner mini-series)

Prologue - Bad Romance

Word Count: 1815

Warnings: language, violence, murder, mention of sexual assault, angst

A/N: On Saint Patrick's Day, Darren and Jeanie start receiving ominous, cryptic text messages claiming to be from the future. Play the game; save Darren. Jeanie's rules are simple enough: If Dazz can catch her out in Dublin, he can have her any way and anywhere he wants. So how did a night of wild sex and whiskey lead to murder? *Spoilers for Love/Hate series 3*

Sequel to “The Sinner’s Prayer” Part 1 Part 2 Part 3

There are tiny moments that contain millions of choices we all make. It's not a choose your own adventure; there's not always time to think cohesively. Add in copious amounts of liquor and sex and a person may become impulsive. As Jeanie cocked the gun pointed in Nidge’s direction, she found herself in the middle of one of those flip-of-the-coin situations.

She followed every hint, every cryptic text from a burner phone that was meant to prevent this exact instant. But the vile leader of an IRA faction lay slowly dying from internal injuries at her feet. Siobhan, softly sobbing hid her face in Tommy’s shoulder. Darren, behind her, still held the keg by the handle. Nidge was the only one who could square up. He was pacing like a trapped animal, enraged and seething. Jeanie never faltered in her aim.

“We're done here, Delaney,” the words came out distorted. “Right now. This was a nice night. I saw a great concert. I drank loads of fucking liquor. I have had more sex in the last few hours than I have in the last few years. I literally got eaten out in a pub loo. I'm getting divorced, and if Trish was smart she'd get a divorce too.”

“Red-” Darren tried.

Jeanie spun on him, the gun pointed too close for either’s comfort. Darren’s eyes like a deer in headlights. “I'm not losing you. I'm not letting this life eat anymore of you. Siobhan already paid the price.”

“Just put the gun down please. I'm only trying t’put him out, love. Look at the bastard.”

“It's a butterfly effect, Dazz. You're already too much for them.” Tears threatened Jeanie’s eyes.

Darren put his hand on the muzzle of the gun cautiously and pointed it down to the floor. “What the fuck are ye talking about? Jeanie, you've been barking all night. Not that I don't appreciate the craic,” he smirked, “Or the shaggin’. The panic attack when we walked through the door earlier. How did ye know about Git?”

Jeanie fished in her cleavage for her mobile and tossed it to Darren. He opened it up and used his own for comparison. He studied the texts on both screens with confusion in his eyes.

“You've been getting them too, right?”

“But how?”

Only Darren and Jeanie existed right now. And the soft gurgling of Git as he drowned in his own blood. The choked crying of a young woman who had been assaulted. They were alone, but aware. So deeply aware of their situation.

“Oh please, can ye even fire a fucking gun?” Nidge’s voice broke through.

Jeanie whirled again, her arm around the side of Darren's friend. It was all fluid. Her arms moved with resistance like underwater. The gun aimed somewhere towards the back of the basement or front. No one was sure. It was just where she pointed the gun and pulled the trigger.

One by one dominos topped in a new pattern. Siobhan screamed, but the sound was deafening so her panic was muted. The gun kicked back causing Jeanie’s elbow to vibrate. Almost like someone checked her reflexes with a small hammer. A burst of concrete where the bullet hit a wall, and Darren dropped the keg with an even louder crash.

In Nidge’s terror, he went to flee from Jeanie's bullet . His entire weight landed on Git’s face. Nidge’s trainer came down with a sickening crunch like a knife in butter. Git’s face was the butter. The gurgle ceased.

The last domino fell. Jeanie dropped the weapon to her side and staggered backwards into Darren’s arms. He tried to take the gun but she jerked it away.

Instead he switched gears and mumbled nonsensical words of comfort. “I've got yous.” and “Jeanie, it'll be ok” She stared up at him as a tremble rolled through her. Darren put his hand on her face and sort of started fixing her hair. Then, with a turn of her head, Jeanie vomited absolutely everywhere.

“Lovely. Just fucking lovely,” Nidge said. “Typical Americans.”

Darren held Jeanie by the arms and bent to look her in the eye. “Alright, sweetheart? Nidge and Tommy and I have t’ take care of this. Why don't ye call Laura or Ewan, and have them come get the pair of ye. Siobhan too? Get her cleaned up and get some sleep. Crash at my gaff, ok?”

Jeanie was numb. Catatonic almost as Darren and Tommy formed a circle. Their heads literally together as they attempted a plan.

Jeanie straightened her back and made her way to Siobhan who held herself tightly. Like she was trying to fade into the background. She put her arms around the young woman who started with a jump but relaxed into Jeanie. The gun finally out of her hands and on the desk beside them.

“Here's what we're gonna do, ok? Do you want me to call Trish or Mary? You aren't gonna clean yourself or even pee. We're gonna take you to hospital. They'll clean you up and take samples. Then we can get you some tea and a warm shower and a nice bed. Dazz has a nice bed. Then I'll get Layton, and bring him to you. That sound good?”

Siobhan nodded softly in agreement, but her uncle wasn't having it. He shoved Darren and Tommy aside to bellow at the two women huddled in the corner together. His finger pointed in Jeanie’s face.

“She’s not gonna do a goddamn thing you say. You're gonna sit right here while Uncle Nidge and the boys clean up this bitch’s mess.”

There was not a single thought that went through Jeanie's head. Was this how Darren's brain was wired to live this lifestyle? Just react and pay for it later while you're trying to live until the next job.

But she was done, she knew that much. Done being left behind. Treated like she was the good little obedient housewife. Having men tell her what she can and can't do. Shut up, sit still and be a good girl. But open your legs. It was being done that caused her to hold the gun up again and point the barrel to Nidge's forehead.

“Darren doesn't work for you anymore, Nigel. Tommy, you can stay here or you can take care of your wife. No one owes him any loyalty.”

“Come on, I didn't mean bitch. We just have to fix it. Then you and Treacy can do whatever.”

Jeanie cocked the gun again until it clicked, “No. You can call Elmo or Fran. Can't call Aido can you? Seeing as you got him shot. Dazz gave you a lung, the love of his life, his sister and his fucking mind. He's not giving you or this bullshit anything else.”

“Red-”

Jeanie swung the gun on Darren without thinking. He flinched and ducked, But she kept her wits about her. She aimed the gun at Nidge once more.

“Dazz, take your shoes off,” she instructed.

“What?”

“You're standing in this cunt’s blood. Take your trainers off and leave them. Socks too, and stand behind me. Then text Ewan and tell him to meet us here with a car. We're going to your flat, then my hotel to pack our bags after we shower and set these clothes on fire. Then we are getting all of our money, our passports and our IDs. Say goodbye to Mary and the girls, and we are going away. Tibet. Phuket. Bali. I don't give a fuck, but we’re flying first class.”

Darren complied. Jeanie couldn't believe it. They shared a look. She couldn't tell if it was relief or the devil in his blazing green eyes, but she was emboldened by it as she bent to take off her own boots. Her focus on Nidge never faltered.

“Ewan said he'll be here in ten or so. Are you sure this is what you want to do?”

“I'm not above shooting this bastard in the head for you, Dazz. I'm not saying we are settling down and having babies and happily ever after or some shit. I'm saying I don't want you to die. If we have to run half way around the world to make that happen..” Jeanie's body started to quiver. The adrenaline was running out. “First I need a Bloody Mary and some French Toast.”

-------

Jeanie exhaled for the first time in nearly 24 hours. The exhaustion finally set in as she laid back in the ridiculous bed chair thing from“upper class.” She and Darren were beyond first class, they were elite now. Even if it was only for the twelve hours it took to get to Thailand.

She could see his far too short hair sticking out on the other side of the wall. She knew at one point he would sneak in to be with her if only for a little while. Jeanie made him look a bit nicer than his typical trainers and hoodies and denim. She was in a sundress herself. They both knew dressing up was not fitting in. Neither felt they fit in here.

“You good, Dazz?”

“I t’ink so. Still trying t’figure out how we went from shagging in coat rooms and back rooms and toilets to watching an IRA boss,” Darren raised his eyes, “to being on this plane. We have forty.. Enough money to live, maybe years where we're going.”

“You couldn't keep living that life, Darren. Nidge was off his fucking rocker, and everyone around him is gonna pay for it.”

“Rosie would've never done this, you know that right?” He looked plaintively over at Jeanie as she climbed up onto her knees.

“Her loss is my gain though. I know you love me, but I'm not sure about my own feelings. I do care about you alot. I'm probably a danger junkie, so we could end up bored of each other without the fear of being caught or you not having any jobs. Or you could wear colors and learn to meditate, and I'll get a pet monkey and cut all my hair off.”

“Don't ye dare!” Darren laughed. “I'll become a Buddhist, just don't cut that hair.” He twisted his fingers up in it before reaching up to kiss her sweetly. Just a hint of his tongue.

“Fine,” Jeanie rolled her eyes. “But I still want a monkey. We should get some sleep.”

They kissed one last time before she laid back down and closed her eyes. Jeanie knew Darren would be on his side when he would begin to dream. His hand tucked under his cheek and head, mouth slightly agape. She pictured it in her head as she drifted off herself.

“How DID we get here?” she thought before dreaming herself of a game that started in sex but ended in murder.

Tag list: @sean-falco @robertsheehanownsmyass @nightmonsters @super-unpredictable98 @elliethesuperfruitlover @slutforrobbiebro @frogs--are--bitches @forenschik @bisexualnathanyoung @sugdenyoung

#robert sheehan #darren treacy #love/hate #darren x jeanie #robert sheehan character fics

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tsukikoayanosuke · 4 years ago

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ueee- Congrats on the milestone!! hehe can request Oc x Canon hsbhsbshbs-- With uh-- Jamil. 🤩 Romantic, angst to fluff pls i would like 🤲 thank uu // Her name is-- Aiennor, Diasomnia 2nd year, long pink hair with faded yellow tips and light pink eyes-- She has braids in her hair, and often wears lolita outfits, shes-- shy? to an extent, but sometimes shes loud, but overall very nice, her magic type is wind. Uee? Thats pretty much it~ You can dm me for more info~ i'll send a pic ueee

Angst to fluff, he~? Well, nothing says 'angst' better than your usual reincarnation au. Well, the angst part was very soft in this. I hope you don't mind. And I think I went a bit to overboard on this. ^^’

Now, I hope I portray Aeinnor well. Sorry if I made some mistake in her personality or characteristic.

Slightly inspired by Ai no Scenario by CHiCO with HoneyWorks. Not gonna lie, I always wanted to write this scenario

(This will be put under the 25000 Hits Celebration)

Heartbeat Scenario

It was a tale as old of time. A tale of forbidden love.

Once upon a time, there lived a boy who worked as the palace gardener named Jamari with hair and eyes as dark as the night sky. A talented young boy who must suppress his talents for a servant should never be better than the royal family they served. He couldn't protest or raise his voice. Which was why when a foreign prince came to court the princess, he didn't say a word to object.

Even knowing she was engaged, it didn't stop Gardener Boy Jamari to visit his best friend, the princess herself. He would climb the tree next to her bedroom window when it was open and the princess was seen doing her paperwork. They would exchange small talks and listen to her sing a small melody. These were the special moments where Jamari could be free to express himself through whispers and he loved every moment with her.

It didn't take long for him to find out about the unfair abuse the princess must suffer because of his daring acts. He would see the bastard prince glared at him through the closed window. It was a silent declaration from Jamari: "You dare to hurt her. I'll make you regret it."

~~~

It was a tale as old of time. A tale of forbidden love.

Once upon a time, there lived a young princess named Aira, with hair as beautiful as the cherry blossom petal and eyes in a light pink rose color. A kind princess maybe the most gentle. She would never hurt a fly or speak up for herself. Which was why when a prince from the land across the sea named Tobias came and offered a hand in marriage, she didn't say no.

Even with her engagement, it didn't stop Princess Aira from hanging out with her best friend, the sweet gardener boy. She would come by the rose garden with a book in hand to chat with the boy while he was working, exchanging small talks and giggling from his jokes. These were the rare moments where Aira could come out from her shell and she loved every moment with him.

It didn't last forever for Prince Tobias soon knew about her meetings with the gardener boy. He didn't take it well and would slap her for being disloyal. Aira could only cry as he ordered, "Don't you dare meet that lowly peasant again!"

~~~

That night was a magical night for both of them.

When Princess Aira woke up from her light sleep, the wind blew into her room, the curtain danced along with the breeze. And crouching on the windowsill with the bright yellow moon shining behind him was Jamari.

"Just take my hand. I promise I'll protect you and never leave your side."

Thus, when Prince Tobias came to check on her, Aira was nowhere to be seen. The pair ran off into the night, laughing at their newfound freedom, never to be seen again.

~~~

"Wait!"

"E-Eh?!" The pink-haired girl's eyes were widened, almost terrified as her eyes glanced to her wrist that was being held by Jamil. "C-Can I help you?"

Jamil wanted to smack himself of how out of character he was acting. What was he thinking, going up to the Diasomnia girl who he had never spoken to before, only noticing her during their first year sorting ceremony?

Jamil gulped. "Sorry." He slowly took off the hand which she pulled her hand almost immediately, caressing her wrist close to her chest. "I think I have mistaken you as someone else."

"O-Oh." She ducked her head, blush dusted his cheeks. She stole glances at him, didn't know how to act. "S-Sorry."

"It's alright. We should start over." He stretched out his hand. "My name is Jamil."

The girl hesitated at first but she slowly reached for him. "I'm Aiennor." Her smile was gentle, her blush was adorable, and her cherry blossom hair brought something that made his heart beat faster for a foreign nostalgic feel.

~~~

"Hey, Aiennor. Did you know?"

"What?"

"I think we're fated to be together."

"What the heck, Toby!" Aiennor giggled. Her boyfriend Toby always says nonsense stuff like this, but Aiennor would always fell to his charm over and over again. They had been dating for a few weeks now, maybe almost a month, and the giddy feeling was still there for Aiennor.

The student in front of them turned toward him, glaring at the pair. "Can you be quiet for a moment?" he hissed, "Some of us here is trying to study."

"Oops~" Toby sheepishly scratched the back of his head. "Sorry, Jamil." Aiennor meanwhile closed her mouth, ducking her red face because of embarrassment.

Jamil's eyes lingered at her a bit longer before he rolled his eyes and turned back to Mr. Trein. Aiennor felt quite bad really, especially when Jamil was the one who complained. That boy had been nothing but nice toward her.

~~~

Jamil always felt that the world had been conspiring to make his life worst.

It wasn't enough that he came from a family or servant, but he also had these cryptic dreams. Of a crying princess with cherry blossom hair, reaching for his hand. He never really took her hand for he didn't understand their meaning.

That was until Aiennor came and the princess' face became clearer. He had heard about soulmates whose soul kept being reincarnated but he never thought that it would happen to him as well.

~~~

Aiennor always felt that the world had been pushing her to a revelation.

She still questioning whether it was a great decision for her to study in Night Raven College or if she would fit in Diasomnia. During those times of doubt, she would dream. Of a gentle farm boy with night sky eyes, offering her a hand. She never really to his hand for she didn't understand their meaning.

That was until Jamil came and the farm boy's face became clearer. The tale of soulmates whose soul reincarnate is true, and she's one of the lucky soul. Is this a blessing or a curse?

~~~

History tends to repeat itself and it happened right now.

Jamil knew that Toby was the same bastard prince that abused the princess in his dreams. He knew his agenda of manipulating Aiennor to be his bitch. Oh, he wouldn't let him get off like that.

"You tricked her! I don't wanna see you anywhere near her, you got me?!"

That bastard just laughed. "Hey, she was the one that was dumb enough to believe me!"

It hurt Jamil when Aiennor came in Toby's defense. She trembling when facing him. "D-Don't hit him! G-Go away, you jerk!"

~~~

History tends to repeat itself and it happened right now.

Aiennor once again fell for the sweet talks of her boyfriends after his confrontation with Jamil. "Great Seven, are you okay?"

Toby smiled gently at her. "Yeah... You're so brave!" She went to a blushing mess and her heart fluttered. But something about Jamil's sad looks made her feel guilty.

It was only a few days later when she accidentally overheard Toby's talks to his friends. "I bet if I told her I loved her, she'd be like 'me too'!" He cackled. "That stupid bitch."

She ran away, crying. She had never felt so stupid in her entire life. Didn't this happen before in her dream/memories of her previous life? How could she fell to the same trick? Why did she accept that jerk proposal?

~~~

That day was a heartwarming afternoon for both of them.

Aiennor crashed into Jamil's chest but quickly recovered and stepped back. She kept sobbing. "You knew all along, didn't you? I'm sorry for calling you a jerk..."

But Jamil had already forgiven her. Thus, he stretched out his hand. "I told you I'd always protect you, didn't I?"

Aiennor let out a tearful, but happy chuckle. "What the heck?"

This time, their hand met.

~~~

The princess and the gardener boy were once again reunited in this life.

And may they always be reunited in this heartbeat scenario.

#twisted wonderland #twst #disney twisted wonderland #twisted wonderland fic #twisted wonderland fanfiction #twisted wonderland fanfic #twst fic #twst fanfic #tw:opt gaiden #jamil viper #twisted wonderland oc #twst oc #jamil x oc #cross posted on ao3 #serving raspberry #25000 hits celebration #the tactician of the scorching sands finale celebration

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literatehiss · 4 years ago

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Revelations

Read on AO3 here A morning in the Blackwood/Lukas/Bouchard/Sims household. Jon yawned, pressing his face into the cold chest below him, listening to the low rumble as his pillow laughed at him. He frowned and batted weakly at the body below him until another, skinnier pair of hands reached over to grasp his fists, bringing them towards his own chest. A kiss from the warmer body behind him, just a peck to a scar on the back of his neck. Jon grumbled and the laughter came again in stereo. A large, cold hand joining the warm ones, running up his side and back. He shoved his head back into the broad chest, intending on falling back asleep, when he heard movement by the door of the room. A warm hand placed onto his cheek, a thumb rubbing underneath his eye.

He blearily pried his eyes open to see Martin looking at him with love welling up in his eyes as he watched Jon be so comfortable and affectionate.

“M’rt’n?” he mumbled.

“Morning Jon. Comfortable?” Martin reached over him to hand the other two their tea

“He certainly seems it doesn’t he? Doesn’t look like Peter is getting anything done today.” Elias laughed from behind him, Jon tried to swat at him again but the older man just gathered his wrists together again.

“Hmm, an excellent excuse to do no work then from the sound of it. Perfect.” Jon felt a kiss be pressed to the crown of his head as he closed his eyes in bliss at the sound of that low rumbling voice from below him. He whined as the warmth at his back moved away until he felt Elias lean over to press a kiss to his cheek. He clung harder to Peter as the other two got dressed and ready for the day, moving into the kitchen. He lay there with Peter in silence, not needing the same conversation and social contact this early in the morning that the other two preferred.

“Come on Archivist, you have work to do. Someone needs to go to the Institute and be spooky. We both know how terrible the statements get when you aren’t there.” Peter yawned.

Jon groaned and shifted his face so that he could talk once he woke up a bit more.

“It s’nice here,” he mumbled and Peter just laughed, “What’re you doing t’day?” He asked curiously, peering up at Peter with one tired eye. Peter hummed a little sadly.

“I have to go to Moorland unfortunately.” Jon’s arms wrapped around him tighter, “I can’t avoid them forever Sims. It’s fine they gave me the same scolding when I first married Elias. I’ll just remind them that I am the only member of the family who is actively providing sacrifices to our Patron and they’ll grumble and then I will carry on doing whatever the hell I like.” Jon pressed a kiss to his chest before shifting to let him up and get dressed himself.

“Come to the Archives when you get back. If you can.” Peter just nodded. Jon pulled on a jumper and wandered into the kitchen where Elias and Martin were “arguing” over the newspaper. There was no real anger in it, they just liked bitching at each other, Jon and Peter found it as endearing as it was a complete anathema to them. Martin smiled at him and pushed over a plate of toast and Elias nodded his head approvingly as he ate. He was happy that his beloved Archivist was being well looked after, it had been one of the things that influenced his decision to bring Martin into the relationship. Elias had decided Jon needed a human connection, a member of their little group that would still be around if and when Peter and Elias had a row bad enough for them to split up. Jon and Martin had observed this nonsense twice since the group had gotten together, with Jon seeing one more before Martin joined them. It was disastrous in the moment but the two would eventually wander back together, especially now that they had Jon and Martin to link them.

Jon and Martin had been concerned on the last break up that Elias would kill Peter when he whisked Jon away onto the Tundra. He hadn’t in the end but it had been a little tense for a moment there.

Martin and Elias bickered over the cryptic crossword for a moment, something Jon found unbearably cute, especially since Elias definitely knew the answer and was just confusing Martin on purpose just to see his nose wrinkle up as he concentrated on the clue. Elias wasn’t eating, generally preferring just his coffee this early in the morning despite Martin’s soft glares as he nudged a plate of toast ever closer to where Elias was sitting. Elias just looked at him with amusement and shifted one of the slices of toast onto Jon’s plate.

A chorus of goodbyes to Peter as they all left to go to the Institute. Jon looked over at Elias. He had said that he had something to tell him, that he had kept a major secret from him, but that he trusted Jon and Martin, that he hated keeping it from them. Peter apparently knew but he refused to give even the slightest hint. Elias had mentioned that he was going to show them something down in the tunnels under the Institute tonight, once everyone else had gone. Martin had been worried but Jon was sure it would be ok, trusting Elias to keep them safe.

What could possibly be down there anyway? Jonah Magnus?

#NaNo 2020 #martinelias #JonElias #jonpeter

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tuff-and-fluff-archives · 4 years ago

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Sleeping Headcanons for Some Faves that are on my mind cuz I'm a 24/7 Sleepy Bitch 🥺💖

Junkrat: Could fall asleep in literally ANY position: face down, on his side, sitting in a chair, STANDING UP, it does not matter to him. Before I got him on a regular sleep schedule, he would just pass out whenever his body decided it needed to. Sometimes even in the middle of a conversation. Usually can't sleep for more than six hours at a time, after having to sleep with one eye open for so long in the Outback in case of attacks. A CONSTANT sleep talker, and he's either saying rly goofy-sounding nonsense or the most cryptic terrifying shit I ever heard. Is absolutely the cuddliest little bitch with me when he's tired 🥺💖

Hopper: Usually sleeps on his back or side. Absolutely loves holding me tight and watching me fall asleep first. The moment he's out though, he is absolutely the worst blanket hog you'll ever see; he's subconsciously used to being alone in bed, so he'll pull the blanket off me and wrap himself up in it without even realizing. SNORES. Will roll all over the bed and sometimes he'll either roll on top of me or accidentally push me out. Every once in a while he has nightmares from his time in the Vietnam war that wake him up in a cold sweat, and even if I'm not awake to comfort him, he'll still hold me tight to calm his breathing and ground himself in reality 🥺💖

Dandy: Usually sleeps on his back, just because if he's tired then the moment he lays down he'll be out. Doesn't even have an actual bed so he sleeps on either the couch or the hammock in his room. Although we do have separate bedrooms, we usually end up sleeping together because I'll either go to him with the excuse that I'm "cold", or he'll come to me (with absolutely no excuse). Even after being together a few years, if I'm sleeping next to him and I cuddle up tighter to him or mumble his name or do literally anything cute in my sleep, then he will MELT and blush and grin like an idiot 🥺💖

Discord: Technically doesn't get tired or need to sleep, considering that he's just the living embodiment of chaos personified, but he still likes cuddling with me when I'm sleepy. Will wrap his big noodle body around me to make me feel cozy and safe. Sometimes if I'm sleeping alone, I'll wake up to him watching me and waiting for me to wake up, sometimes with his face literally inches away from mine; yes, it does scare the absolute heck outta me every time. Not a big fan of sleep himself and has described it as a "waste of time" (ironic choice of words considering he's immortal) and sometimes gets upset that its something I need because it's time that I could spending with him, yet he can't deny that he finds me quite adorable when I'm asleep and cuddled up to him 🥺💖

Bonus cuz I'm a fool 😖😖:

Sniper: Says he could fall asleep in any position but that is a lie; he always passes out ass-up with his face buried in the pillow. Sometimes I wonder how he can breathe... If I'm sleeping with him, he acts super protective and lets me curl up tight against him as he promises that nothing's gonna get to me with him around. Used to not getting a lot of sleep (95% of the sniping profession is just sitting and waiting for ur target to show up, and of course there's no sleeping on the job in that case), so he has no issue watching over me until I've drifted off peacefully 🥺💖

#💜: blushing bomb crush #💜: where have all the good men gone #💜: life ain't life without love baby #💜: harmony of our chaos #🎯#self shipping #HHHH IM JUST ALWAYS IN A SLEEPY MOOD OK 🥺🥺🥺#fave #ruby rambles #long post

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lynxgriffin · 6 years ago

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Led Zeppelin was right all along

It’s my FINAL PIECE of KH3 commentary! That’s right, I’ve finished the game! Commentary for me finishing it is under the cut!

Okay guys, this is it

It’s time to finish this sucker

It’s time for all of my feelings to get curbstomped and then cracked in half over a knee

Turns out I’ve caught a cold so this might be tougher to do

But I’m still going to do it

AWAY. WE. GOOOOO

And after beating this gummi boss again…

Ahhh there he is at last

The old fart

…So weird that it’s not Leonard Nimoy though

Xehanort: Let’s just try out this whole apocalypse thing and see how it goes

It’s rainin’ Heartless, hallelujah

LMAO there isn’t even an enemy counter, it’s just:

ENEMIES. YES, ALL OF THEM. ALL THE TIME. FOREVER

And I just blew up ten million Heartless with a train, THIS IS THE SHINIEST APOCALYPSE EVER

Ohh, once again, hate that tunnel

IT’S A TRAP

At least Aqua didn’t fall for that

Oh dang he’s got No Name there

NOOOO SUNSHINE BOY

Oh well now that’s cheating

FUKYEAH GOOFY

Donald’s fukkin pissed

Did Donald just Megaflare this bitch

ArE yoU kiDDinG mE

Oh great, one of you again

Aqua: Never mind, that is way damn too many Heartless

HE SCREAM, AGAIN

SORA PULL YOURSELF TOGETHER WE’RE STILL EARLY IN FINAL BATTLE MODE

Well that was five different layers of OH SHIT

Oh hey back at that chess metaphor HI AGAIN YOUNG ERAQUS

Wait the hell kind of chess move was that

MEANWHILE, BACK ON THE SALT FLATS

ThE FINAL WORLD, HUH

Chirithy!!!!

Chirithy: So yeah you’ve kinda died a couple times previously just by being unconscious a lot

Sora: YEAH WELL time to get back to life

Sora: THERE’S PUZZLES IN HEAVEN, TOO??

THERE’S PUZZLES IN HEAVEN YUP, BETTER GET TO THAT

Ohhhh no the sparkly stars are KHUX Keykids, aren’t they :(((

Ugh it’s the little star soul stories that are getting to me :(

Sora bein’ a pal even to all the souls in heaven, gosh darn

OH SURE JUST KEEP THAT FROM THE AUDIENCE

OMG this soul is longing for his kismesis, what a nerd

“What a weird place” YEAH NO SHIT

Well it’s nice to see THESE Soras are having a great time

Perhaps this game was taking the idea of Sorabits a tad too literally

Also actually two quick questions here:

1) Why is Chirithy in heaven?

2) Sora were you instagramming from heaven??

Sora: So heaven’s been a trip and all but I’ve still got endgame to do, STAY COOL FUZZY FRIEND

Wait a bloop it sent him back in time too??

Insert 2001 Space Odyssey reference here

Oh now we’re in DIFFERENT heaven??

Okay yeah now I have no clue where we’re going from here

Man here I was expecting to fight all the Norts and instead it’s…Heartless…Grim Reaper

I’m starting to suspect this is not the real Jiminy

This is kind of a weird callback to KH1, innit

Yeah I was just wondering that myself

Oh hey Youngnort

See? Grim Reaper Heartless, I knew it

I gotta say that after Sora dying and going to KH heaven this is…kinda weirder coming afterwards

I’m kind of worried about where this is going

This is like Three Days of the Condor, I TRUST NO ONE

WE FINALLY GOT A TITLE CRAWL???

WHELP. ROUND TWO, I GUESS

Guys, let’s…let’s not do this again

You ever get a sense of deja vu

OHOHOHOOOOO THIS IS DIFFERENT

“WHO ARE YOU??” “I’M YOU BUT STRONGER”

Terra: I’ll kick every ass! I’ll kick your ass! I’LL KICK MY OWN ASS

Gad damn the bullshit never stops around here, does it

We’ve done this before but I DUN CARE since this is my favorite boss battle music

Meanwhile the Unreal Engine’s just huffing and puffing trying to keep up

:O!!! EPHEMER!!

WHATRE U DOIN IN A HEARTLESS TORNADO

And all the dead Keykids came to help!

Ohhhhhh myyyyyyyyy goooooooooooosh

HAHA SO THAT’S HOW THEY INTEGRATED THOSE PEOPLE THAT WON THE THING

Congrats Keykids, U ARE ATTACKS

That’s…that’s really sweet actually

That’s a whole lot of Unicornis and Vulpes in there

OMG I was so busy watching those names I didn’t even realize I was supposed to avoid dying

FINALLY CURAGA???

I dunno Lea that was already a pretty big bad

Aw darn they Norted Repliku

Or wait no Pastku?

Pastku you’re such a little shit

Lea: That wasn’t blundering! That was failing, WITH STYLE

HE LOOM

Unreal Engine: Please…help…I’m dying Squirtle

Oh hey FINALLY super powerful magic users like Yen Sid get involved!

And Moses parted the Heartless Sea

And hey finally got Starlight!

Well ain’t this a familiar setup

I miss Leonard Nimoy :(

Well I’m glad we get to save and shop before we all die horribly!

….Wait haven’t we all already died horribly??

FINALLY We get to fight some Norts!!

Took out Xigbar first

Yeah Xigbar I’m really not sure all that hoohah was worth it

Are we gonna do this for each one or do we have to pick and choose?

Oh well that takes care of Pastku so maybe not

SKIRT RIKU VS SKIRT RIKU

Oh that’s creepy actually

OH NO! Repliku :(((

Sora…you just gonna leave that…okay

So now we got some Neophytes to deal with

Well I was gonna go after Mar first but I guess Luxord is our opponent now

AW DAMN I hated this part from before!

Oh wait that wasn’t hard at all you just look behind those stupid cards

Luxord: Well it’s been fun, time to die

Why does everyone’s teeth look blue??

Really liking all these remixes of the old boss themes tho

Aaaaand down goes Mar

And what’s nice is partners have mostly worn down the last Nort present!

Larx is an asshole to the very end

Door puzzles ohhhh nooooooo

Well thank goodness we worked out that nonsense

Who to help first? REDHEAD SQUAD

If that’s Xion I’m going to be SO UPSET

At least we get to fight WITH Kairi even if not as her

Lea is SO ANGER

Ohhhhh BUUUUUURN

Oh well that ain’t good

XION NOOOOOOOOOO

Absolutely not, Xemnas!!

*throws hands in the air* OHHHHHHHH

HE KNOWS

Oh fuck you Xemnas HDU

Ohhhhh sheeeeeeet

THE BOY IS BACK

JUST STAB ME IN THE HEART WITH THE OTHER PROMISE, OKAY

Called out by Roxas daaaayum

Gah dammit not again! STOP DOING KAIRI DIRTY

GET READY FOR: TRIPLE KEYKIDS ASSKICKIN

Hot damn but it’s satisfying to beat the crap out of Saix with Sora, Roxas and Xion all at once while The Other Promise just blasts in the background

Lea: I’m not mad I’m just disappointed

Awww maaaaaan

OH GOSH SEASALT TRIO HUG

THEY’RE ALL TOGETHER AGAIN SOB SOB

Now to the Wayfinder family! Took out Vanyeetas first!

Sora: Hey WTF that’s my face you got

Yeah I gotta agree I don’t know which part of that was okay honestly

WHELP no time to think on it gotta take out Terranort

Since we got back Roxas and Xion can we finally get Terra back??

Sora: TERRA PLEASE STOP, IT’S TOO WEIRD

OHHHHHHH!! OH OH OH

That was metal as all hell

YAAAAAAY

WAYFINDER FAMILY IS HERE

Ohhhh gooooosh

Everyone’s together and I’m full of rainbows

MAN so we got…three Norts left, don’t we

Guess the only way out of this is up

What we’ve just been cloning No Name the whole time??

Okay, FOUR left, we gotta deal with Ansem, Xemnas and Youngnort first

Oh sheesh that was Youngnort dying, thought it was me for a second

Youngnort: Just one last piece of cryptic bullshit to leave you with! BYYYYEEEE

Aaaand that’s Ansem down

Ansem: Must…pontificate more…before…I die

Haha took out Xemnas with flying rocket punch nanobots

Xemnas: Regrets…I’ve had a few…

But then again, too few to mention?

Sora: Life is pain, Xemnas! Anyone who says otherwise is Norting you

Oh boy oh boy, all we have left now is…the old fart…

Oh this is gonna piss me off good, ain’t it

YUP, I’M PISSED

YOU DONE HER DIRTY AGAIN

Nomura do we need to sit you down as a group and learn you some things about NOT DOING THAT

That was…kind of a cool moment I guess?? BUT I’M STILL MAD

Oh shitcakes

The world to come is death from above I guess

Donald and Goofy just coming in like “Hey…what’d we miss?”

I’m honestly really glad they’re here tho, TRINITY ALLLLL THE WAY

The whole gang here together again IRONING OUT THE PLOT POINTS

Trophy here???

OH HEY WE’RE BACK HERE

A town of nothing but Norts

OH I forgot THESE WEIRDOS were in trailers somehow

The hell is happening anymore

An Organization so nice we fought ‘em twice!

The scary music is playing but I have no clue where to goooo

Well it took me five minutes just to find the dang guys before Thundaga finished them off

Oh really now!

ONE MORE TITLE CRAWL FOR Y’ALL

HE WAS AN ANGRY GOAT WHO SAW THE MOVIE INCEPTION ALL ALONG

SHEESH that was a nutty battle that took awhile

Well I think I won THAT battle anyway

Is this gonna be a THAT WASN’T EVEN MY FINAL FORM or what

More callbacks!

This is the fight that never eeeeends, yes it goes on and on my frieeeends

OH that was fuckin weird but COOL

I LOVE THE TRINITY

EVERYONE ELSE AGAIN TOO

HAHA OH DAMN

EVEN ERAQUS GETS TO REAPPEAR

Yaaay my favorite terrible dad

That look from Eraqus OMG

Babbeh Eraqus so cute

Now YOU get the goofy apocalypse weapon, Sora!

More dad reconciliations sob

Oh gosh I’m so glad we get this before we end

ohhhh noooo

Oh no you know shit’s serious when you enter a blocked scene

DOES EVERYONE FINALLY GET TO GO HOME NOW

Man everything’s just so shiny now

A CHIRITHY FOUND A VEN

NEW OUTFITS FOR SEASALT GANG FINALLY

THE EXPANDED SEASALT GANG

YAAAY NAMINE BACK

LET HER LIVE HER LIFE NOW

MOTHAFOCKIN BEACH PARTY FOR EVERYONE YES

FOR REALLY EVERYONE FOR REAL??

Also dang sing us out Utada

*points and points* THAT? FINAL SHOT???

WHERE’S THE BOY

What did you do to my son Nomura

LOOK IF YOU’RE GONNA POP HIM OUT LIKE THAT I AT LEAST WANT TO BE VALIDATED FOR MY THEORIES

THE CREDITS ARE ROLLING AND THERE’S STILL THINGS I FEEL LIKE I’M MISSING

Also just interjecting here but damn that endgame was so long IT FELT LIKE A WHOLE ‘NOTHER GAME

And now the pretty march music with the Super Longer Credits—I CAN’T BELIEVE DRAKE BELL WAS YOUNG ERAQUS

*points* WHY IS FURRY SQUAD VOICED HERE??

Well if nothing else gonna get me a kickass OST out of this

HERE we go, post credits stuff

Here’s the Furry Squad!

LUXU WAS XIGBAR WELL OKAY

What fresh bullshit is thiiiiiiis

OH HEY WE’D ALMOST FORGOTTEN ABOUT THEM

Hey where is Ava

Oh fuuuuuck yoooou Luxugbar

Whaaaaaaaat

THE BOY

SHIBUYA????????????

*throws hands in the air* I GOT NOTHIN FOLKS

I GOT ABSOLUTELY NOTHIN

THE END PAGE!!!! SURE AS HELL IS WHAT THAT IS

OKAY SO LIKE

PLEASE, HELP ME OUT HERE, SECRET ENDING

IS THE NEXT GAME JUST GONNA STRAIGHT UP BE VERUM REX?

NOPE THERE IS NOTHING MORE THAT’S JUST IT

WELL THAT WAS

A WHOLE DAMN LOT WASN’T IT

Nomura I am in fact going to die and go to your house and haunt it and push all of your things off shelves like a cat

ALL OF THE THINGS

OFF OF. YOUR SHELVES.

Okay so overall I did really enjoy the game but also I’m just ????

?????????

??????

Like my reaction is pretty much just

LATER NERDS THIS HAS BEEN LYNX SUFFERS THROUGH KINGDOM HEARTS 3

I HOPE YOU HAD FUN CAUSE I DID

I think I’m gonna go lie down now

#kingdom hearts spoilers #kh3 spoilers #lynx plays kh3 #lynx suffers for your entertainment #??????????????

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quartings · 2 years ago

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I don't know who I'd normally talk to this about, but I wanted to discuss one of my least favorite tropes here. That being the whole "mastermind serial killer trope".

(TW for descriptions of all the awful stuff media serial killers usually do below)

What I largely dislike about the trope is the fact that the moment you see a character like this in any show or movie, you know they're 100% going to win and beat the protagonist because they're soooo smart and they somehow managed to set up an impossibly elaborate sequence of crimes, obscure clues, and psychoanalysis that culminates into some dumb grandiose message. So because you know they're always going to pull some nonsense out of their ass by the end and win, there's no reason to watch whatever show or movie they're in anymore because there's no real tension anymore.

And the thing is, that even if they know every detail about how to commit a crime and about the people trying to stop them, their plans are always so pointlessly convoluted and time-dependent that even the slightest accident from an outside source can throw everything off and ruin the whole plan.

What if the courier you send to deliver the severed head or cryptic message gets caught in a traffic jam and doesn't make it at the oh-so specific time you need them to? What if the detective assigned to find and arrest you isn't the "worthy intellect" you want, and they're just of average or lower intelligence and can't solve any of your cryptic riddles? Even if they're smart, what if they just overthink everything and misinterpret the riddles and go way off case? What if some stranger stumbles upon your crime scene and messes up all the clues before the cops get there? What if an even bigger crime or disaster happens that overshadows all your killings in the media? What if your time-sensitive clues go unnoticed and expire?

It just really makes me want to write a story about a really smug serial killer who's planned out this massive trail of complex clues and killings that's meant to teach people a "lesson about society" or some nonsense, finally culminating in him mindbreaking the hardboiled detective sent to arrest him (as usual). But instead, nobody picks up on the clues or misinterprets them, and people attribute the killings to a bunch of unrelated suspects, so the killer doesn't even get any infamy or a cool nickname. By killing very low-level public figures, even if some of them were shitty people, the serial killer realizes that they haven't really done anything to improve the actual bureaucracy they hate and their city gets even worse.

Maybe there's even a Cindy Lou Who kind of moment where some very earnest soul confronts the killer about his motives, and he gives this massive spiel about humanity and how he's "figured out the system" and the other person is just like "that's dumb, why don't you just be nice to people instead". Sort of like "Killing one bad person but not undoing or mending any of their bad actions does nothing"

Conversely, you could have the killer confront an even more cyncial person who's like "Oh wow, you just killed one random corrupt governor while there's still so many worse people running around? You're patting yourself on the back for being some sort of genius while wars, famine, and Bionicle cancellations are going on? Whoop-dee-fuckin-doo, don't talk to me until you've wiped out every last person I hate personally, that'd at least make my life better. Kill me and see who cares. Hell, do your usual mastermind martyrdom suicide thing to 'send a message' right now, we all could use a good laugh. Starving orphans on other continents will totally get your grand goal and thank you. Fuck off."

And this is a bit more 'out there' but you could even "Ghost of Christmas Future" the serial killer and show them that the only impact they'll have on history is to be a very annoying chapter in textbooks, and most kids in high school will only remember them as "that stupid bitch that was on question 10". Pain and suffering existed before them and will exist after. Or even better, to see a serial killer react to all the thousands of Gen Z memes people make absolutely RIPPING into them and every personal aspect of their life.

Idunno, maybe I'll do something with these notes and make a story/comic/animation along these themes, maybe not. Just thought I should at least get this off my chest.

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agentdammers · 7 years ago

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Grand Torchwood Rewatch 1x12 & 13

IF YOU FALL I WILL CATCH U I’LL BE WAITING........ T I M E A F T E R T I M E

One season down...... It’s a Finale Double Whammy, just as it aired back in 2007! Crumbs of Jack Lore drop into our laps, some absolute plot bullshit takes place, an old man is there!!! fuck it let’s get this over with

content warn: pisstaking, fun having, oh! plot bullshit!, i absolutely lose my fucking mind, Owen Harper!!! I Won’t Hesitate Bitch

1x12 “captain jack harkness”

- a thought before we dive in, but man owen gets A LOT of story stuff over the course of the 2 seasons he’s in right??? like more story stuff than ianto and tosh combined. interesting

- AH FUCK!!! A VOTE SAXON POSTER. REMEMBER WHEN?

- so..... here’s a thing. “Ohhh people have heard music from a derelict building! better send torchwood in!” how... does that come about? Could it be squatters or something??? fuck it, let’s send in a Secret Government Agency! they’ll sort it out. i mean we don’t know what they do exactly but i imagine at least one of them is a ghostbuster or something lmao, whatever

- OH NO THIS CREEPY OLD BITCH!!! i forgot how scary he looked!! god, this dude must be a million, or a vampire, or likely both

- tosh’s eyes get SO BIG WHEN THAT GUY ASKS HER TO DANCE I LOVE HER SO MUCH!!!!!!!!!!! she’s the best one!!!!!!

- wish i could wipe this episode entirely from my memory because that fucking reveal when the Real jack harkness introduces himself? F U C K

- speaking of tosh, finding it extremely unconvincing that she, a tech nerd, would go out with a laptop with an almost completely flat battery... like, c’mon. she would be prepared

- Gwen cooper, a fully adult woman: haha me and my friends;;;; came here 4 a dare;;; cos its spooky lol....

- the camera on this show has me fucking SCREEEAMING “He wears a cravat.” THERE’S A DRAMATIC SLOW MOTION ZOOM IN ON THIS GUYS FUCKING CRAVAT AND THEN ON IANTO’S FACE LOOKING AT IT AND ITS ALL IN FUCKING EARNEST LET ME DIE!!!!!!!!!

- the dance they’re at is called “KISS THE BOYS GOODBYE DANCE”, which is what my finishing move would be called if i was a character in a fighting game

- ianto and owen slapfighting over their shit girlfriend experiences fucking owns genuinely lmao

- tosh pops the top off a tin and then cuts her hand open on the obviously blunt fucking lid?????? jesus christ

- “I’m tired of living in awe of the rift!!!” .....................first i’ve heard of it. I love that owen is talking as though the rift has been a major fucking factor throughout the entire series up until this point, rather than a thing that’s just been vaguely fucking referenced as the reason why a bunch of weird shit just seems to happen in cardiff. no, im not standing for this. You can’t pull out the rift at the eleventh hour and then talk about it as though it’s a Hugely Important plot device when the biggest role it’s had over the stretch of the entire 11 Whole Ass episodes prefacing this was to allow the plane to come through in “out of time”. y’all have barely mentioned the rift this entire time and now you want to act like its the hellmouth??? eat my ass!!!!!!

- and continuing on that note: apparently they’ve had a machine that can manipulate the rift in the hub......... the entire goddamn time. but no one thought to MENTION it i guess!!!!!!!! pfft, why would THAT be important??? right???? right?????

this plot bullshit almost makes me feel bad for how harsh i was about “cyberwoman” but, i will admit.... despite this Absolute Fucking Nonsense, i do find the jack and tosh storyline in this episode really fun and interesting. its just unfortunate that all the stuff arrrrround that is some kind of fic scrawled in the back of a kid’s math book.

- also the size of owen’s fucking NADS in this episode!!!!!!!! “Don’t compare yourself to me.” SAYS MAN CRYING OVER THE GIRL HE KNEW FOR ONE (1!) (SINGULAR) WEEK!!!! as opposed to ianto’s longterm girlfriend being turned into a monster and eventually murdered by his own team!!!! Like, i understand that’s owen’s problem actually goes beyond that, and its not so much about diane herself but about the fact that he let himself feel close to someone again after his fiancee died but for us, The Audience, watching this as it airs... we haven’t unlocked owen’s tragic backstory yet. and without knowing all that it just makes owen look really bad and like a huge fucking tool lmfao.

- NEVERMIND THE END IS GAY AND SAD AND Y’KNOW!!!!!! i am a man of simple pleasures, at heart, and so... i’ll let it slide. jack meeting his namesake knowing that he’s going to die and them having a moment is more of the kind of emotional content we would get in episodes of doctor who, and its Just Right

- in honesty, theres a bunch of stuff about this ep that i DO like. that tosh gets a prominant role for a change, while gwen gets to do fuck all. the whole Real Jack story. owen gets shot and pops a tit out at the end. its just unfortunate thats its all wrapped up in this rift thing thats been wheeled out last minute for a Big Season Finale with no real foreshadowing or build up to it at all lmao. but, moving on...............................................................................................

1x13 “end of days”

- RHYS BUNS DETECTED, A SOUND WAY TO KICK OFF ANY EPISODE

- lovely reading voice ianto’s got..... i also like owen acting up to make sure we know that they remember him being shot in the shoulder last episode lol.

- “owen, if you open the rift you’ll break it” (owen opens the rift anyway) “owen, you opening the rift broke it” (owen GASPS IN DISMAY, ME??? REALLY?) yes bitch open your ears

- “So are we going to sit around crying into our lattes or are we gonna do something about it?” OWEN..... IS THIS. SUPPOSED TO SOUND BADASS I.... GENUINELY CANT TELL? IT SOUNDS BAD, OWEN

- jack was so likeable last ep now he’s a DICK. gwen calls him out on how he talked to owen and he’s really fucking catty at HER for no reason at all????

- i haaaaaaaaate this scene in the hospital where a Mystery Illness has all the fucking symptoms of the bubonic plague but apparently every doctor in the entire hospital never did high school level history and are all incapable of recognising it. if fucking *i* know what symptoms of the bubonic plague are im sure they didn’t need Absolute Brain Genius Owen Harper who is seemingly the only person with any sense in cardiff to come in and diagnose it. i also hate how owen just like casually mentions to the doctor yep, this is caused by people falling through time dude yknow!!! like they do!! expect more of this to keep happening probably idk!!

- “I CAN’T BELIEVE YOU OPENED THE RIFT WITH THIS MACHINE WE HAVE THAT’S FOR UHHHHHHHH UHHHHHHH OPENING THE RIFT *big fuck off galaxy brain*” thats basically this episode.

- i love that owen has followed jack all this time but NOW in a crisis is the time to actually lose it and start questioning his authority bc they dont Actually know who jack is like???? you’ve been fine not knowing this entire time before??? thats not to say that jack isn’t an entire dumbass himself. he expects them all to follow him blindly and its so creepy. he’s like a cult leader, and as they all have Torchwood Stockholm Syndrome that ive mentioned in previous episode run downs they’ve all just gone along with it.

- owen having a little cry on the way out is such a Good scene bc he puts on such a brave and defiant front tho 💕💖💘💕

- i dont know why the really quick flashback to diane flying off in the plane made me lose my fucking mind, its just like “LMAO IN CASE U FORGOT: SHE WAS THE PLANE LADY. I KNOW SHE WAS ONLY IN FOR LIKE TWO MINUTES, BUT DONT WORRY ABOUT IT.”

- gwen for fucks sake!!!!!!!! not again!!!!! after all the cryptic shit and lies she’s told rhys up until this point, she now knocks him out and locks him in a cell and STILL offers no explanation. this poor fucking dude!!!!!!!!! and it’s about to get even worse for him...

- the way gwen screams “RHHHHHHEEEEEEEEEEEEUUUUUUUURRRRRSSSSS”

- YES EVERYONE REBEL AGAINST JACK!!!!!!! FUCK THIS DUDE!!!! you’re doing what a creepy old dude who is Absolutely Definitely evil wants, but still

- why does gwen start doing shit on the computer when toshiko, the computer expert, is standing right there, like.............

- JACK TRYING TO SMACKTALK TO ENTIRE GANG LIKE HIS OWN CLOSET ISN’T CHOCKFUL OF FUCKING SKELETONS

- i forget, does anyone know jack’s immortal apart from gwen? or was it just the shock of owen actually Shooting Their Boss? the only onscreen death i can recall of his after suzie shot him was in “cyberwoman”

- god, minutes ago they were all like FUCK JACK!!!! JACK DOESN’T KNOW HOW TO SAVE US AFTER ALL!!! and now theyre all crawling back asking jack to save them all from cgi pig Ganon and its just..... a lot to happen, over the space of about half an hour.

- the ending is so anticlimatic and also why does sucking all the Yummy Life Energy out of jack make abaddon die?????????? Though in its defence... after like 3 bowls of cereal, i too am like OUCH OOF MY BONES

- aaaaaaaaaand rhys is back! will he get treated any better from here on out? i dont remember!!! guess we’ll see.

- bit much of gwen who’s actually known jack the shortest time of them all to be like NO, let ME be with him uwuwuwuuw

- ahhh!!! ianto smelling jack’s coat ;_;

- aaaand jack’s back too. AND HE GETS TO HOLD A CRYING OWEN? FOR ME? oh you shouldn’t have! this Almost makes up for all that rift plot bullshit (almost. i still know what u did.)

- ANDDDDD OH SHIT. FUCK!!!!!!!!!!!!! THE GOOD ENDING. HERE COMES THE TARDIS. FUCKING YEAH!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

...............................and there it goes. one season down. sorry this one was so long!!! i love and appreciate anyone to takes the time to read these posts. thank u!!!!

#grand torchwood rewatch 2018 #LONG POST #i got mad abt plot shit A Lot during this finale

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taikoturtle · 7 years ago

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1. Things you said at 1 am trimberly please!

Kimberly learns that Trini mumbles in her sleep.

Sometimes it’s utter nonsense that spills out of her mouth, like “no, I don’t want to get on the flying snake” or “hands off my hotdog you son of a bitch.” Those are the funniest because Trini doesn’t like to curse when she’s awake - a habit learned by being around her little brothers all day - but man oh man, does her subconscious have things to say.

It happened for the first time in the beginning of summer following Rita’s attack on Angel Grove when Kimberly received a text from her favorite Ranger around ten at night.

can I come over?

Kimberly’s response was immediate.

of course

Trini arrived fifteen minutes later, her knuckles rapping softly on the window under the cover of darkness. After Kimberly unlatched the locks and threw open the frame to grant her entry, Trini swung her body inside in one smooth motion. She stood there in the middle of the room, a hollow look in her red, puffy eyes and a tired sag in her broken posture, but she made no effort to move or speak.

Closing the window securely, Kimberly studied her friend with a heavy heart. It tore her up inside to see her like this, but no matter what troubles afflicted Trini, Kimberly swore that she’d do her best to help her through them.

After what seemed like an eternity, Trini removed her shoes and headed towards the bed, her socks padding softly against the carpet, and crawled under the covers before curling into a tiny ball. No noise emitted from her body, but the subtle shaking of the blankets and muted sniffles could only mean one thing, so Kimberly flipped the lights off and crawled into bed with her to let her know she wasn’t alone.

Ever since then, it’s become a thing.

Trini no longer shoots her texts; Kimberly just knows to keep her window unlocked, and at odd hours of the night a little knocking on her window like a tiny pecking bird alerts her to the subsequent appearance of her best friend.

At times she shows up with a broad smile on her face with food in hand and a boisterous attitude.

“I grabbed some extra glazed this morning and I need your help finishing them.”

“What do you think of the new kid, Tommy? Seems like a cocky dickhead to me.”

“Hey, I came up with a new training technique and I wanna hear your thoughts on it.”

They talk, they laugh, they joke, they smile. Her room no longer feels empty or isolated like it so often did during the school year, not with Trini there to keep her company. Those are the visits that Kimberly looks forward to because they’re fun and lighthearted; they offer a break from the monotony of household chores and incessant Power Ranger training.

The visits she loathes are the ones where they don’t need to speak in order for her to understand the gravity of the situation. She hates those visits because she feels powerless to help Trini escape the monsters that haunt her. Whether they’re nightmares of inescapable claws snared around her neck or intangible demons brought to life in the form of familial disappointment and the crushing pressure of expectations, Trini bottles them up inside thinking it’s only her burden to bear and seeks refuge in the form of Kimberly’s room.

Kimberly never presses her to speak. She simply lets her know that she’ll always be there for her when she’s ready to talk about it. Trini assures her that that’s good enough, but Kimberly doesn’t always buy it - she doesn’t want to be just good enough. It crosses her mind every now and then that maybe Trini’s hiding something else, but she has no way to prove it and figures she’ll share when she’s ready.

But the most eventful night that changed the course of their relationship happened the day before their first class of senior year.

Tap tap tap

The window swings open and Trini pulls herself in with practiced grace. Kimberly had just finished getting ready to go to sleep and was sitting cross legged on her bed reading a book. Kicking off her boots and tossing her backpack aside, Trini jumps onto the bed, landing with a little bounce next to her friend.

“Sewing? Really?” Trini chuckles as she peers over Kimberly’s shoulder and quickly scans the contents of the pages. “Since when do you care about home economics?”

The book slams shut as Kimberly reaches over to grab the beanie off of Trini’s head. She waves it around as the smaller girl tries to snatch it back but to no avail.

“I care because you still have that ugly rip in the side from sparring with Jason and I’m going to fix it up for your lazy ass.”

“Hey,” Trini pouts as she reaches across Kimberly with her arm outstretched. “I’ll get to it eventually, just give it back.”

Unable to contain herself, Kimberly extends her arm as far away as possible as a sly grin spreads across her face, her eyes narrowing playfully in the process.

“Why don’t you make me.”

There’s a spark in Trini’s eyes as her own lips tug upward. “Oh you’re going down.”

Her body launches upwards in the blink of an eye and she nearly catches Kimberly off guard, but Kimberly is equally fast and has the advantage of longer limbs so she narrowly dodges the sneak attack by abruptly pushing herself backwards. She nearly pats herself on the back at her lightning-quick evasionary tactics, but it dawns on her that there’s nowhere left to go as Trini twists back around and throws herself at her with all her might.

Kimberly’s back slams against the headboard of her bed frame, her arm still high in the air with the beanie clenched tightly in her grasp, as Trini presses up against her face to face. Her legs are situated on either side of Kimberly’s hips and she’s essentially got her trapped.

It’s the perfect time to steal the beanie back; she has better leverage and can easily reach Kimberly’s hand from her current position. There’s a victorious smile lighting up Trini’s features because she knows she’s already won, but when she looks into Kimberly’s eyes to rub it in her face, it seems to dawn on her just how close they are.

A mere few inches is all it would take to close the gap. Neither of them say it, but they both think it - they both feel it.

The room is dead silent save for their shallow, uneven breaths as the smile on Trini’s face gradually shrinks from the sobering situation. Her eyes dart down to Kimberly’s lips before flickering back up and it finally solidifies in Kimberly’s mind just exactly what cryptic emotions the other girl is holding back.

She wants to tell her that it’s okay and that everything will be alright because the funny thing is, she feels it too, but the words don’t come out fast enough and Trini’s already rolling off of Kimberly to settle down on her side of the bed.

Her body wriggles beneath the covers to get comfortable before she rolls over on her side, her back facing Kimberly as if it’s an impenetrable shield that’ll protect her from the harsh, cruel pain of falling in love with your best friend.

Kimberly clears her throat and starts, “Hey–”

“I’m tired.”

A beat of silence.

“But Trini–”

“I don’t want to talk about it.”

‘It’ is a huge elephant in the room right now and try as she might, Kimberly knows that Trini can’t ignore it any longer, not after what almost happened. They’re going to have to address it, but if she says not now then Kimberly has no other choice than to comply.

A heavy sigh escapes her lips as she clicks off the lights and sinks down into the mattress. “Goodnight.”

“‘Night.”

“Stay with me.”

Darkness still shrouds the room when Kimberly’s eyelids sluggishly open halfway. Her mind is foggy with sleep and half-finished dreams, but she makes out a blurry 1:02 A.M. on the digital clock on her bedside and a feeling of relief washes over her system.

She still has hours to go before school, but Trini’s muffled, slurred voice reaches her ears. “Don’t… go.”

Kimberly rubs her eyes drowsily as she hesitantly whispers, “Trini?”

She’s met with silence and for a moment she wonders if it was all in her head, but then more words spill out of Trini’s mouth in a jumbled heap.

“I’ve slain the dragon. Princess Kimmy, marry me.”

A loud, ungodly snort escapes Kimberly’s nose and she knows Trini will never live this down. Tiny whimpers drift out of Trini’s lips and it takes all of Kimberly’s groggy willpower to not burst into actual outrageous laughter, but then Trini mumbles again and it’s no longer funny.

“I love you.”

Her lungs seize up and her heart halts to a dead stop as if time is standing still. It’s not the way she ever pictured hearing Trini say those words, but Kimberly can’t unhear them now and she repeats them over in her mind like a broken record.

She likes the way it sounds rolling off of Trini’s tongue, like it’s a special phrase that’s she’s never heard before until Trini breathed real life and meaning into it. Though Trini is only dreaming, the sentiment is fully there and Kimberly hopes that one day she’ll have a chance to hear it again when the other girl is awake.

Kimberly rolls over and places a soft kiss on Trini’s shoulder.

“I love you too.”

Trini ends up asking her out the next day.

They’re at lunch eating and just as the bell rings to signal for them to start making their way to AP Chem, Trini pulls her aside by a row of lockers. She’s blushing furiously but manages to stammer out a cute and rushed “Will you go out with me?”

Finally, Kimberly thinks, but then…

“Wait,” she says curiously, “what changed your mind so fast? Last night, you didn’t even want to talk about it, let alone mention it.”

Trini chuckles up at her and grins. “You talk in your sleep too, you know.”

Kimberly pales.

“You called me your knight in shining armor and said we should bang.”

Smooth, Kimberly, real smooth.

#thanks for patiently waiting!#trimberly #trimberly fanfic #trini x kimberly #pink lemonade #power rangers #power rangers 2017 #anon #asks #myfanfic

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tubofskippy · 7 years ago

Text

Sometimes it helps me to develop characters just by diving in and writing. I can get into their heads.

Idk where else to put this but here, so tada

• • • I’m standing in the doorframe, refraining from muttering nonsense into my walkie talkie one last time (it’s still the coolest part of the job), ready to close up for the night, when I notice a man sitting on a bench in solitaire, admiring the exhibits. “Ahem,” I clear my throat to get his attention and the man turns around. “Sir,” I begin, (I have to call all of the men ‘sir’ and all of the women ‘miss’. It’s tiring. And what do I call androgynous people? ‘Bud?’ ‘Hey you?’ ‘Person?’ It’s all too informal.) “We’re closing soon.” “Oh! Sorry. I’ve been here for a while, haven’t I?” He replies. “I come here to think sometimes. Helps my writing. It’s so fascinating, natural history. Don’t you just love it?” “What, you mean you’re actually interested in this stuff?” I shrug. Most people I see come by here are parents with kids. But this guy seems a little young to be a parent. However, wise enough. Very wise. Secluded, though... self interested. No, he isn’t here with children. He’ll probably never have them. But he isn’t exactly a science buff, either. He’s a nerd who never grew out of the dinosaur phase, that’s what. Which also means he’s most likely single. Ugh. You’re doing it again, Sochester... I shake my head, pulling myself back into the conversation. “You don’t find it interesting? That’s a shame. How come you work here then?” What kind of question is that? Does the trash man like trash? “This job is temporary. Prep. All part of a bigger plan.” I don’t quite wish to share my bigger plan, but I know I’m going to have to because I made the mistake in being cryptic and this guy is wondering, so now he’s going to ask me questions, and it’s gonna be a whole big thing an— “What do you mean?”

It starts. I try to describe it simply. “Stage one. Security guard. Stage two. Police officer. Stage three, detective inspector, and stage four... the world’s only consulting detective.” It seems so easy when I put it that way. Only... I’ve been stuck in stage one for over two years. “Consulting detective... Like Sherlock Holmes?” The man’s eyes light up. But he seems amused. He probably thinks I’m some kind of Sherlock super fan. That I couldn’t possibly repeat his work. Pshh. He probably thinks— “Yep. Like Sherlock Holmes.” I force the words out to calm my brain. The man laughs a little. But not like most laughs directed towards me. His is... light hearted. Entertained, but not cynical. “I’ve always been fascinated with Mr. Holmes. You have no idea how much I’ve read up on him. Brilliant, isn’t he? Heh, I didn’t think anyone else would ever try for that job again. Takes a certain set of skills.” Yes, I know. I know. Shut up. Stop acting like you know more about him than I do. “Ah, but I wish you luck.” He sighs and takes one last look at the exhibit while I’m dying to get him out of here so I can go home to my ugly couch, turn on the tv, and eat pasta until I crash. I’m tired of talking. I’m tired of thinking. “Sorry, I should’ve introduced myself.” He reaches out his hand—who knows where it’s been—and I’m obligated to shake it. “Name’s Booker. Scott Booker.” “Holmes. Sochester Holmes.” He drops my hand. If it weren’t connected to my arm it would’ve shattered on the sticky museum floor. “You’re him! You're...” “A direct descendant of Sherlock’s and the last of the Holmes bloodline?” Booker suddenly seems in awe of me. It’s an odd feeling and I’m not sure I like it. I know it will soon be replaced with disappointment when he finds out his only hope is a lazy son of a bitch with numerous mental disorders who lives alone in a cluttered apartment and knows his life is going nowhere. “That’s me.”

#K I HAVE NOT DECIDED ON A FIRST NAME FOR YOUNG HOLMES YET #SOCHESTER IS TEMPORARY UNLESS YALL LIKE IT #this was fun #maybe I’ll do more #josh and leslie!!!#I can just picture them :)#ALSO #this scene isn’t canon #just an exercise #close to holmes

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garuda-dreams-of-rain · 7 years ago

Text

Aftermath

This is a Sherlolly story I just finished and wanted to share with you all. Takes place after The Phone Call. I don’t know how to make a cut, so please forgive me if it’s too long. Let me know what you think! It’s my first time, so please be gentle, lol. I hope you enjoy! Rated PG for a little swearing. **********************

Molly stared at the dead phone in her hand. She noticed she was shaking, but if that was anger, terror or some weird kind of relief, she wasn’t quite sure. She was completely mixed up. He had said it. To her. She had said it. To him. But did he really mean it? He’d said she wasn’t an experiment, but he was always such a liar. He lied whenever it pleased him, for his own amusement, for a case, on a crazy whim. Why believe him now? Why today? And why had he suddenly hung up with no explanation? Not even a goodbye.

“Damn the man,” Molly fumed. Feeling hopeless, hurt, rejected, and furious in equal measure, she stifled a sob. She wanted to throw something, to slap someone. She wanted to curl up in a corner and cry her heart out. She wanted to roar with frustration. A dull, aching cramp spreading in her abdomen brought her back to the moment and why she was in the kitchen in the first place. She threw a rice bag in the microwave and waited for it to heat up while she sipped her tea. It was cold and not really what she wanted anymore. Funny how everything can change in just a few minutes. She poured it down the sink.

Reaching under the counter, she pulled out a bottle of vodka, twisted the lid and took a large swig directly from the bottle. Thoughts, feelings and conflicting, unanswered questions swirled through her mind. She fiercely wiped away the tears that would not stop falling. “You will not make me regret this, you son of a bitch,” Molly declared.

She took another swig from the bottle. The problem with pms, she decided, was that it made her brain too foggy to think clearly. “Look, Molly,” she told herself, “you’ve had a hard day.” There was the autopsy on that four year old child, which was so horrible. She’d broken a bottle of chemicals and they had to evacuate the lab while it got cleaned up. Mike had been furious. Then the cramps, and then, to top off everything, that terrible phone call. From him. The love of her life, she sneered to herself. It was awful. What was wrong with her? “I’m going to move on,” she vowed for the hundredth time. “No more Sherlock Holmes. He’s not worth it.” Toby wandered into the kitchen and wound himself around her legs, mewing plaintively.

“God damn the man!” she said to her cat, who looked at her as if he agreed. What the hell did Sherlock think he was doing? Calling like that out of the blue. She snorted with a certain satisfaction as she remembered making him say it first. He had said it. And the second time he had sounded as if he meant it. Did he? Could he? Was it possible?

Was there a chance in hell that this man, this gorgeous man she’d loved with her entire aching soul for seven long years, this infuriating man who scorned all sentiment, could care for her? No, it must have been some stupid bet he’d made with some asshole for kicks. If he and John had been out drinking and were just screwing around she was going to kill both of them. “God damn the man all to hell. I’m through with men, Toby,” she asserted. “No more.”

Molly took another swig of the vodka, shuddering as the alcohol seared her throat, but then smiled as the friendly, relaxing burn hit her stomach and began to course through her veins. Ah, that was better. Maybe she could drink herself into oblivion. She was off work tomorrow anyway. That would be fine, and a perfect end to this entirely regrettable day. The microwave beeped. Molly extracted the comforting rice bag, grabbed a spoon and a half empty pint of strawberry ice cream, tucked the vodka under her arm, and trundled off to bed.

She awoke hours later to the sound of someone vomiting in her bathroom. Someone male. Of course. Who else could it be? She checked the clock: 3:47 am. Sitting up with a sigh, Molly frowned and rubbed her brow. What the hell? He was probably experiencing the after effects of a bender of some type. Maybe with that junkie friend of his. Wiggins. She got up and padded into her bathroom, ready to start yelling at him. She’d throw that bastard out. Show him she wouldn’t be trifled with.

The words died in her throat as soon as she saw him. Sherlock was crumpled on the floor by the loo, his arms around the bowl, his Belstaff discarded in a strangely sad heap on the tile floor. He looked terrible. His midnight blue shirt was muddy and wrinkled, the shoulder was slightly torn and there was a greenish smudge of something on his cheek. Pale and sweating, with dark circles under his eyes, he looked at her and attempted a wan smile. “Oh, hello Molly,” he drawled. He seemed about to say something else, but another wave of nausea hit him and he bent over the bowl again.

Molly grabbed a flannel from the cupboard and ran it under the cool tap. She knelt by his side and wiped his face gently. He pushed her hand aside and bent over the loo again, retching pitifully.

“Stop that, Sherlock,” Molly said softly. “You’ve got the dry heaves. Nothing’s coming up.” He sat up and leaned crookedly against the wall, supporting himself on one trembling arm. He swallowed hard and gamely tried to calm the bile rising from the pit of his stomach. She applied the wet flannel again, chasing the sheen of sweat off his face. He closed his eyes and made a small, vulnerable noise that went directly to Molly’s heart.

“Sorry about this, Molly,” he ventured, opening his eyes and looking at her. He waved his hand around, unsteadily. His eyes were glazed and slightly unfocused. “Sorry about that.” Was he referring to the phone call? She wasn’t sure. “Couldn’t be helped. It all just…sort of…hit me on my way over here. I came as soon as I could.”

Molly had no idea what he was going on about. She wrinkled her nose. “Sherlock Holmes, you smell like a swamp.” She scrubbed at the spot on his cheek. “Is that algae?”

“Been in a well,” he answered cryptically. “You should smell John!” he said and began to laugh hysterically.

“Are you high?” she asked.

“No,” he answered, calming down and looking her in the eye. There was a different tone in his voice and she instantly knew he was telling the truth. “I kind of wish I was. I’m as sober as a judge, although I’m not sure why judges in particular have such a reputation for being sober. I’ve known quite a few who were complete lushes,” he rambled. “Judge Farness, he sat on the case of Pendleton the poisoner, and you could smell…”

“Yes, alright, Sherlock,” Molly said, cutting him off. “I don’t need to hear any of that. Can you stand up?”

He tried getting up, but failed and collapsed against the wall. “Not yet,” he confessed. “I don’t know what’s wrong with me.” He looked at her, eyes blurry and confused, his words starting to slur. “This shouldn’t be happening. I won. I saved you, Molly. I beat the east wind and saved you. But she said I didn’t.” He began to laugh again, bitterly this time. Then he trailed off, closed his eyes and started to groan.

Molly had no idea what he was ranting about. He was scaring her. All she knew was she had to get him on his feet. She had to get him to do something. Something normal. She loaded a toothbrush with toothpaste and handed it to him. He brushed his teeth, and then hauled himself to his feet with difficulty and spit in the sink. She noticed he was shaking and wobbly on his feet.

“Come on, Sherlock,” Molly said, putting her arm around his waist and guiding him into the kitchen. He sat down heavily on a barstool, and she placed a firm, professional hand on his forehead. “You’re running a fever. When was the last time you ate anything?”

“I dunno,” he responded, putting his head down and pressing his cheek against the cooling granite countertop. “Yesterday, I think. Day before? Before Sherringford, at any rate.” His voice was deep and groggy. “This feels nice.”

“I’m going to make you some eggs and toast and you’re going to eat them. Slowly,” she instructed. “And then you’re going to tell me what’s going on. Okay?”

“Mmmhmm,” was the only response she got. There was a long pause while Molly moved around the kitchen, fixing his food. Just as she thought he’d fallen asleep, his voice cut through the silence. “Molly, I’m so tired,” Sherlock said, quietly.

He was sitting up now, his hands in his lap, shoulders slumped, watching her cook. There was something in his voice and posture that was new; he sounded like a little boy. Molly’s heart nearly broke as she gazed at him. He looked so guileless, so vulnerable. What could have happened to put him in this state? What was Sherringford?

She put the plate of food in front of him and pulled up a barstool next to him to sit on. He picked up the fork and began to toy with his food. “I’m not really hungry,” he said.

“Nonsense,” said Molly, firmly. “You’re so messed up you don’t know what you need. Eat.”

He obediently ate a bite of scrambled eggs, swallowed and sighed, nodded his head, and suddenly began to wolf down the food. Two minutes later he pushed the empty plate away. “That was good,” he said.

Sherlock turned toward her, sitting just a few inches away from him, her face soft and understanding. He looked at her for a few moments, and she could see a level of something in his eyes she’d never seen before. Was that kindness? Regard? Was it…love? Mollys stomach flipped over and hope flared in her heart. Suddenly, Sherlock reached out and cupped her cheek in his large, warm hand. She covered his hand with her own, turned her head slightly and pressed a kiss into his palm.

“You’ve been crying,” he stated. She nodded. “Because of me?”

“Yes, Sherlock. Because of you.” He cast his eyes down at the floor and had the grace to look ashamed.

“Molly…I…need to talk to you. I understand if you never want to see me again, but I need to talk to you. It was never supposed to happen like that. I never meant… It was Eurus. She made me…I mean I wanted to, I wouldn’t have if I didn’t, but…” He trailed off again, looking lost, not knowing where to begin. Not knowing how to begin.

“Sherlock, I can’t understand what you’re talking about. Let’s go sit on the sofa, and then you can tell me. You’ll be more comfortable there and you can tell me. You can tell me everything. Anything, Sherlock. You can tell me anything.” Molly got up and led him to the living room where they sat side by side on her sofa. He was quiet for a long time. She took his hand, interlacing her fingers with his, patiently giving him her strength.

Sherlock spent a few minutes studying their hands and the way they fit together, like he had never seen anything like it before. Finally he raised his eyes and looked at her, completely defeated by her generous heart, by her unassailable kindness. He smiled crookedly, wryly; the great Sherlock Holmes, overwhelmed by love and grateful at long last for the power of that ultimately humbling sentiment.

“Molly. Can I hold you? Please?” His voice broke as he asked her. In wordless response, Molly moved into his lap and wound her arms around his neck, twining her fingers in his curls. His arms went around her in a strong embrace, nearly crushing the breath out of her. She could feel the tension in his biceps as he gripped the back of her tshirt in his fists, clutching onto her for dear life. It was like he never wanted to let go.

She made soothing sounds as she stroked his hair. “Bad day, was it?” she joked, and immediately regretted it as she felt his shoulders begin to shake and realized he was sobbing. He clung to her as the tears coursed down his cheeks. “Sherlock,” she said softly. “What do you need?”

He pulled away and looked her in the eyes. “You,” he whispered. “Always you.” He buried his face in the crook of her neck, took a deep sigh, and then it all began to tumble out of him. Incoherent, mumbling, sometimes quickly, in slow, disjointed pieces at other times, he talked and talked.

He told her about Eurus and her evil bargain with Moriarty, about the cold, stony gray vastness of Sherringford, and about the governor and his wife, the blood and the panicked desperation that had enveloped them all, about the Garrideb brothers, and about the greedy sea that had swallowed them up on the wicked and terrifying whim of his sister. He spoke about the little girl on the plane, about the childhood he could barely remember, about his poor, mad sister’s misguided jealousy and revenge.

He talked for a long while about John’s steadfastness, his goodness, his help and his time in the well. He talked for even longer about Mycroft; he spoke with wonder and raw anger about his brother’s secrets, his lies, his experiments, his usury, as well as his noble, mocking, attempted self sacrifice and his well-meaning but ultimately harmful attempts to do his best for Eurus and the family. He told her about Redbeard, about Victor, about his loss, his hurt, his confusion, his wanting to do right, to help if he could, and about how all his lousy, failed attempts had ended in disaster.

And finally, he told her about that phone call, how he never wanted it to be like that, and how he had meant it without knowing that he had meant it.

It was a dizzying blur of words and emotions that filled Molly’s heart until she overflowed and her tears fell to mingle with his. No wonder he’d been sick and rambling when he arrived. He’d had more than enough to test the strongest of men. He’d been through literal hell and emerged. Victorious, yes, but this win was shot through with impenetrable loss, heartbreak, and sadness.

And then, purged of the grief, calmly and quietly, he told her he loved her. He needed her. He never wanted to be parted from her again in this life. And when he stumbled to a stop as the dawn light began to spill into the room, there was a deep silence between them.

“Molly Hooper,” he said, simply and without hope or expectation. “Can you ever forgive me?”

There was a pause. She looked at him, smiling gently. All the love she’d kept locked in her heart flooded towards him in great waves, finally, completely, and forever.

“Look out the window, Sherlock,” Molly said as she bent to kiss him passionately on his perfect, trembling lips. “It’s a brand new day.”

#sherlock #sherlolly

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ecotone99 · 6 years ago

Text

[SF] Dragonsphere

A wee story I penned today in my spare time. Thought some folks here still might enjoy it. (A little over 5,000 words, so...take it on if you have some spare time!)

It's in the form of personal and mission logs. It's very rough. It might not be fully consistent or make total sense all the way through.

---xxx

Personal Log: Lt. Percival Smith, 1106776 1st May 2145

Commander...well, if you're watching this one tomorrow, then I guess I know what happened. Let me say this: I'm sorry. It wasn't the right thing to do, not between you and I. I stole the action, I stole your job, and it might not be the most important thing, but I took the glory. And now I'm dead, where it should have been you, right?

It's funny, I can't help but think about how my dumb name might go down in history. Assuming anyone is around more than a few days to appreciate it, of course. I was birthed in Vat 112, I think I told you. Most of the vats named people automatically, left it to the computer, but not 112. Someone chose to call me Percival. Being military gives me a few perks in the system, a few years ago I got the records for others birthed on the same day as me. The guy before me was called Colossus. Right after me was Mars. And I got Percival...maybe it's special to someone.

I wondered if those other guys from the vat were my family, but I've been told over and over I don't have family, and I never will. I don't have the equipment to make my own family either. But Mike, I have to tell you, I have always thought of you as family. You trusted me, never questioned me, gave me every bit of respect you gave the others. I never knew anyone else like that. And I think if you're my family, that makes Abigail...and Steven...they're my family too. Sister-in-law, nephew. And you're my brother.

So, I didn't betray your command, or sacrifice myself for my flight commander. I saved my brother, for his family. Abi and Steve need you a lot more than anyone needs me. I hope you can forgive me, and be with them. Whether it's the end or I actually managed to accomplish something, just be with them.

---xxx

Personal Log: Cmdr. Michael Conlon, 1082125 1st May 2145

We make for the anomaly today. Command had some argument over whether it was worthwhile at all, with so little time left. Less than a week, it'll be here. Not one of my flight backed down, they more or less demanded to fly. Science team says they haven't found a single thing in years of observations. The word "intractable" gets thrown around a lot. We don't know whether it's alive, a vessel, a storm, or any damn thing really. So we have to try this.

Orders are to approach and observe, and we're carrying more scanning gear than I've ever seen on a mission. The antennae have antennae. We've been warned - if we notice so much as an unusual warmth in the cockpit, turn around and go. We just don't know what this thing is or what it can do. I've made up my mind, anyway. If the scanners aren't getting anything from outside, we launch in a probe. If it gets nothing, even at close range, then I'm ordering the flight back to base, and I'm taking my ship inside.

I fully expect that will be what I need to do. If we've been watching this thing for this long, and not gotten a hint of a clue, I don't see why the same scanners should work just because we're at the front door. I don't know if it will accomplish anything. I might vaporise on contact, or before I even make contact. I might die passing through from some horrible radiation or other. Maybe there are some badass alien guys waiting inside to cut me up. Or, maybe a signal will get out, or my ship will circle back with some telemetry aboard, or maybe I might survive. Maybe I'll make contact with someone and negotiate. Who knows?

Abi, Steve. I hope you can understand. It's my job - taking risks to keep others safe. And there's only a short while before this thing gets here...I can't bear the thought of letting it just...I don't even know what, but I have to at least try to do something about it. If it works, and I found something, then it was worthwhile. If it doesn't, please don't think it was a waste...without knowing what would happen, I just had to try. I really hope you guys are ok. Better go, don't want to be late to meet our visitor.

---xxx

Personal Log: Councillor Ghest 1st May 2145

I've come back to CnC, though May and the children were not happy with me. Over a decade I've been an absentee parent, married to the program. I vowed to be with them at the end. I will be, but something needs to be done here, something I did not expect. May found a clue. When I came home last week, I couldn't bear to tell the children what was coming. I just said I was home, and we were going to have a holiday...relax, eat terrible food, watch movies. But that night, when I told May that we were no closer now than when I started the project a decade ago, she begged to see it, the thing that was coming for us. With only days left, I broke confidentiality and finally showed her the...thing. The Dragonsphere. She nearly fainted.

May's uncle left his lab in a total mess. He had been demented near the end, rambling. Somewhere among all his junk was an image of the Dragonsphere. May remembered it, plain as day - it had haunted her, that he had been living in such fear of this image. It took half the night, but we found the book. The notes were a crazy jumble, paragraphs scattered about the yellowed pages seemingly randomly. I grabbed the book and anything else within arm's reach, and bundled it in to the car. After breakfast, I came back here, to Command. That was yesterday. Today, my techs are poring over everything old Uncle Dean put to paper, searching for anything meaningful.

Mike Conlon is flying out today, too. I tried to stop them from sending him. It's pointless. Every scan, every probe we ever sent, simply returned nothing at all. The probes disappeared, the scans gave us nothing. Aside from the constant hum - the omnipresent signal of every conceivable type of matter emerging from the sphere - there is nothing to read. And that signal cannot be right - how could it just be generating all that matter? One of the techs said he thought it was a false signal, a mask for a vessel inside. Another thinks it's a new universe spilling out in to our own - or maybe a vessel somehow using a universe as a power source. Frankly, it could be a space unicorn for all that we can tell about it. Conlon and his pack are flying in to a black void of ignorance.

Maybe that's not strictly true...we do know one thing. I told May about the alien, too. He came to us in 2133. He's the reason I have a program to run, a seat on the council. In the few minutes he lived after crash landing, he managed to use his computer to decode our language, and told us the following: his people were dead, mere ashes left by some dread assault on their home; he escaped, and brought doom in his wake, for it had followed his route perfectly; he was profoundly sorry for dooming us, and said something about singing us a song of hope for our future. I'm no xenobiologist, but I swear, doesn't matter what the species is - I could read the terror in his eyes as he died. Amongst strangers, in a strange land, holding in his mind the last memory of an entire people, he died.

We gleaned nothing from his ship computer before the ship destroyed itself, utterly. Studying the advanced alloys and strange radiation from his ship was the best we could do, and even that yielded new materials and energy science that justified the program. When no doom appeared after 12 months, we stood down our alert. Another year went by, and then finally we saw it. We came to call it Dragonsphere for its greenish hue when viewed through the space telescopes. And now I’m faced with the fact that, somehow, twenty years ago or more, at least 8 years before the alien crash landed, May's uncle drew this thing in a notebook, and wrote cryptic nonsense all around it. What did he know?

All of this is probably for nothing anyway. With a week left, what can we achieve? If Uncle Dean's notes show us a machine with which to save ourselves, how can we build it in time? I need to go back to May and the kids. I have to keep my promise to them. I don't know what I will do for the kids. It might be best if they went to sleep and didn't wake up. But then, we might also be fine. There's just no data to make a decision, any decision. All we can say with certainty is that the Dragonsphere will be here in a week, and we don't know how to begin to prepare.

---xxx

Mission Log: Cmdr. Michael Conlon, 1082125 2nd May 2145

Percival's ship is in tow. It came back out, he didn't. Can't slave his hi-speed drive to my ship, so we're crawling back. A couple hours more until docking.

Son of a bitch disabled my ship with an inhibitor. Must have placed it before we launched. Insubordinate, dumbass, infuriating, disrespectful. Everything I would expect from a snot-nosed little brother. And he's gone.

<pause>

Aside from the disappearance of Lieutenant Smith, we noted nothing of interest. Scans returned nothing, probes went silent. Smith pulled his little move and flew in. Twenty minutes later, his ship comes out silent.

What did it see?

---xxx

Personal Log: Councillor Ghest 3rd May 2145

I can hardly believe it. First Conlon hauls a ship back that has been inside - actually IN the Dragonsphere - and then Uncle Dean's notebook knocks us all for six.

Conlon's man didn't make it back. Interestingly, his seat buckle was open. What would happen, I wonder, to make that the case? I suppose he might have opened it before being atomised. Or maybe not. In any case, the ship has told us much, in a way. Everything, every byte of information, from the recording logs down to the basic instructions in the microcontrollers for this ship's systems, has been wiped. Not a single piece of information made it out. The sphere keeps its secrets close to its heart, it would seem. I can't conceive of any natural process that should have this effect. It must have been the work of an intelligence, to be so total. Any natural process should have been random, imperfect. Not this. Everything is a zero...not a single one among them.

The ship looked perfect, but on close inspection, there was all kinds of corrosion and every sort of alloy, amalgam, or compound you can think of, all in tiny amounts. The result of being exposed to all of the wild random matter coming from the sphere. So, it would seem it is not a false signal - all sorts of everything, from normal matter to anti-matter and dark matter, on all orders of complexity, is spewing forth from the sphere. One thing stood out. A signal from a nuclear decay, which as yet we cannot identify. What nucleus, which sub-atomic particles, in what arrangement, could produce this? It must be a new substance. It is so prevalent over all the other signals. Maybe it's important.

Uncle Dean's scrawls are maybe an even bigger mystery. He speaks of demons eating his body and feeding his dreams. Worms consume him in every waking moment, and in his nightmares they bring him to horrible places, dungeons that stink of death, the floors and walls slick with rotting organic matter, black from the decay of the flesh that coats them. The stories go back decades, but there is a sudden change, right around 12 years ago. The nightmares are different. They are still terrible, fearful, but there is a feeling in the background...a desire to help. An occasional image seeps through, a strange dreamscape of fantastically coloured meadow, a night sky brilliantly lit by stars and a streak of purple nebula. The air is clean and fresh, and the night is warm and welcoming. And there is a song.

Everywhere in the notebook, there are sketches and diagrams of sheet music. The timing is scattered, the notes and key vary wildly from page to page. Eventually, all sketches and narratives stop, all the random little paragraphs cease to appear. It's just page after page of sheet music, refinements and adjustments on each page. A few days before his death, Dean's music becomes almost static, tiny changes here and there, but the melody is complete, and the harmony merely shifts places. Then, suddenly, it is the last page.

What does the song mean? Do we broadcast it? Will it help us? Is it nothing more than the creation of a fragmented mind?

Note: Record a message for the kids later, they're already asleep.

---xxx

Personal Log: Cmdr. Michael Conlon, 1082125 4th May 2145

I've never seen anything like it. Councillor Ghest rigs up the computer to the tannoy, starts playing this...music. It's haunting, lovely, but that's not what I notice. No, I notice the damn storage crates walking themselves off the shelves all around the warehouse. The alien ship was stored here in pieces, some of it in puddles, it just broke down to nothing. I yelled for everyone to get clear, and in a matter of minutes there were splinters and bits of plastic showering the workspaces. Counters were thrown aside, metal racks - very, very heavy metal racks - just cast about like chaff. From the observation room, we watched it take form. The alien's ship, unmistakeable. Missing a few parts for sure - some of the ship was taken to other places for study, I guess.

Ghest looked like he was going to drop, or scream, I don't know which. In the end he just sort of straightened up and walked out to his office. Turned off the music. Right away the ship settled on the ground, and in a few minutes it started to decompose again.

Percy would have loved this. He always had interesting taste in music.

Update: Running to infirmary, just heard, Percy's back.

---xxx

Personal Log: Councillor Ghest 4th May 2145

May has been calling, but I can't - not after this afternoon. We still don't know anything, damn it! We know a lot more than we did, but what do we DO? Old Dean hears music in his dreams, music from someone that wants to help. The song activates the alien's vessel...the vessel of a race that was defeated by the Dragonsphere - of that much I am sure now. How can it help us if they were beaten? Do we run, use its engines? Is the song a new song, one that will make their ship better? In the absence of understanding, I have requested all samples and materials from the alien ship to be returned to us immediately. The other labs are asking if this has to do with the object in the sky. It's no secret any more, people know something is coming, and they're demanding answers.

Smith's ship is a dead end. We haven't been able to work out what this new substance might be. Time is running out, and we haven't got the apparatus to learn what we need to.

---xxx

Medical Log: Dr. Lisa Brogan 5th May 2145

I've been working on Lieutenant Smith all night, and at this point, all I can say is that he's stable. Everything seems to be working, in the organs at least, but that's more than I can say for his brain. I'm reading nothing there, no patterns that indicate thought, even at the most basic level. He is salted earth, mentally speaking. Even his autonomic function is absent - the moment he appeared in the hallway, we had to drag him here and hook him up to total life support. He doesn't sleep, he's just...there. His eyes seem to lock for a moment, and the scanners jump, almost like he has a few moments of consciousness, but then he's gone again. Honestly, I hope he doesn't know anything. His skin has been burned away at the outer layer, not lethal but very painful if you could feel it. There isn't a hair left on his body. He looks like an old man, wrinkled and pink, his lips and eyes sunken and bones showing through his skin. I'm infusing him with glucose solution, as I think a feeding tube would probably cause a bleed. His skin is like paper. It's like his body doesn't know what to do with the sugar, there's metabolism here and there, but it's not consistent.

Without a doubt, this man is dying. The other thing, very strange - as if any of this isn't strange - his vocal chords have been removed. Sometimes when he has a little "jolt", it seems like he motions to scream...but only a hoarse croak comes out.

Personal: Is this what will happen to all of us? I have a syringe ready to go. I'm not going out like that. This damned ringing in my ears is making it hard to think, I need to sleep, but the syringe will be under the pillow.

---xxx

Personal Log: Cmdr. Michael Conlon, 1082125 5th May 2145

I don't know why they sent it back, and I don't know what is lying in that bed, but it's not Percy. I'm angry now, more than before, and it's just getting worse with this noise. They're hearing it everywhere now, even in the Lunar base. It started as a ringing, now it's like a hundred thousand voices pulsating, and it's getting worse. I want to blow this damned thing up, I want to fire every weapon we have at it, blast it out of the sky. I know it won't work, but making some very large explosions might calm me down a little. How DARE they? They took his vocal chords, they took his mind - why the hell did they send him back? Or this husk that used to be him, anyway.

I need to calm down. Ghest wants me to join his little choir. He thinks if we sing the song from this old maniac's notebook, we might be able to fly the alien ship. I've never sung a bar in my life. Not while sober, anyway. I'm going down to the lab, maybe if I sing loud enough I can block out this din from the sphere.

---xxx

Personal Log: Councillor Ghest 5th May 2145

Something, something to do with sound. Has to be. They took Smith's vocal chords, what was that about? So he couldn't sing the song? The techs have been singing the notes and getting better at it, the ship was really starting to come together last time. We're going to need to enhance our abilities though, we don't have anyone that could learn and reproduce the song this quickly. And if we just get a singer, they won't know how to fight. I feel like we almost know what we need to do, but I can't just figure it out...and this noise! I can't think straight. It's worse outside, but only slightly...there's just no hiding from it. Horrible. Like screams in the distance, too many of them all at once.

Addendum:

Played a basic version of the song on a portable speaker, and with the techs and Conlon singing along, the ship flew together in moments. We're inside now. It's quiet in here. I didn't realise how loud the sound had gotten...my ears are really ringing, Conlon's voice is muffled when he speaks to me. The ship's computer is responding to us, but I can't make much sense of it. The symbols keep changing. One thing is constantly on display, a waveform. It looks very familiar, but I can't quite place it - I think their method of graphing is a little different from ours. I haven't slept for 48 hours, not really, but we need to keep going.

Oh...May. Kids. I have to contact them. I'm sure my techs have kept them informed.

---xxx

Medical Log: Dr. Lisa Brogan 6th May 2145

That's it, I can't treat anyone else this morning. Nothing works. Earplugs, deadening the aural nerves, nothing short of actually rendering someone deaf, which this sound doesn’t quite seem to do. It is very effective, however, at driving us CRAZY! There was a fight in the waiting area over who was next. I hear from the MPs that there is "public disorder". Code for mass panic, riots, chaos outside the gates. It'll be chaos inside the gates soon enough. I have my syringe. I won't let them drive me mad, let alone flay my skin from my body. Smith...he's alive for now, but I forgot to check on him several times already. I don't know what's going to happen, but it has to happen soon.

---xxx

Mission Log: Cmdr. Michael Conlon, 1082125 6th May 2145

I'm 10,000 meters above the Pacific right now. The ship is responding to my commands...to my songs. Ghest has taken to calling them hymns. I don't know how it works exactly, I just think of what I need to do, imagine how that would sound in the main hymn, and improvise something. It seems to work, though it's not very precise. Ghest and I, and a couple of the techs, are working on this, but I'm thinking of Abi and Steve. Ghest seems to have completely pushed his family out of his mind. I wish I had that discipline, if only so I could focus on the job at hand. I nearly crashed us earlier when I went off key, my voice broke thinking of Steven wondering where his dad is while he's...suffering. He is suffering, right now. But so are billions of others...we have to stop this.

---xxx

Medical Log: Dr. Lisa Brogan 6th May 2145

Families of the staff are showing up at the gate. They expect me to care for them - me! I'm in as bad a condition as they are. MPs let them through. Apparently some did not make it. Humanity is at a boil. There is murder in the streets. I've opened the wards, but they're already over full. There's no food, nothing has been delivered.

Smith died earlier. He locked his eyes on me, motioned with his arms a little, then suffered enormous haemorrhages, basically everywhere. A few more hours, that's all I can do. Maybe I should get more syringes for the others. Maybe I could help them, help all of them. It's not right for them to suffer...do no harm. Do no harm.

---xxx

Station Log: Guard Captain Gerard Holt, 99827 6th May 2145

I've been through a lot, but pretty much always in a combat zone. Outside of that, outside of desperate people seeking escape, or sustenance, I've never seen people behave like this. I don't know why they think there are answers inside, or some kind of safety. The wards are full of starving people, at each other's throats. Outside the fence at least they could move around, get away from the fighting. Instead they stand their ground, and are trampled in to dust for it. Inevitably someone turns on someone else, and they all start fighting like...like dogs. It is feral. As they finish tearing each other apart, they make for the gates. And I put them down, like dogs.

I hate them for what they are doing. I'm angry too. I don't know how long it will be before I turn my gun on those inside, or on myself. How much longer can we stand this? The noise, the voices, there is no respite. I'd give anything to be back in the hell of an ordinary war...anything but this.

---xxx

Personal Log: Councillor Ghest 6th May 2145

So close now. The alien ship swallowed up my tablet when I set it down for a moment, and then the panels started coming through in English. Damn it, why didn't I do that before? Seconds could mean the difference here. I don't know what's going on planetside. We're in orbit now. The traffic controller warned us off landing, said people were going mad. None of the space stations are responding to signals. Millions could be dead...billions, maybe. Here we are, fumbling about in an unknown craft.

Well, fumbling is a little unkind. The alien's scanners are amazing. I have identified the substance found on Smith's ship. The alien archive indicates it is metallic. Maybe some sort of hull inside the sphere is composed of this? The ship seems to be able to replicate it now that it knows the details. I think it can integrate it in to its structure. If there are life forms aboard the sphere, they must be protected against its effects...maybe this substance would help.

There's more. The alien archive contains designs for a...harness. A mind harness, I suppose you could call it. It allowed them to create what has been translated as a battle choir. Choristers singing the battle hymns to have their ships fly to the needs of the current engagement. Their greatest choristers seem to have been heroes, those who knew many hymns and could create more on the spot. I believe the ship has altered the design to work on a human, but as far as I can tell, anyone harnessed would lose much of their higher brain function to the task of singing the battle hymns. Can I truly ask Conlon to make this sacrifice? He would be the most suitable given his experience to date.

I now believe that Smith's fate was a warning. I can't explain why they skinned him or took his mind, but the vocal chords...they warned us not to sing. The waveform on the alien computer, I can make it out now. It's clearly the sound coming from the sphere that is scouring the Earth, and what is more, it is the complete opposing waveform to the song we discovered. It is suppressing the song. If anyone was to sing it outside this craft, it would collapse in to nothingness. If we had not already assembled the ship, we would have been done for.

There is the bones of a plan here. But there is much to do, and a lot to ask. And I have no idea whether it would work anyway.

---xxx

Personal Log: Cmdr. Michael Conlon, 1082125 7th May 2145

Here I am again, saying goodbye. Abi, you know. Steven, I love you, more than anything else in the universe. You're my boy, you're my hero, and I have to do anything and everything that I can to try to keep you safe. I hope you're safe right now. I remember bouncing you up and down on my foot, holding your hands while you laughed your tiny butt off. And always you wanted me to sing "Down by the Station"...I was shy, even in front of you, about singing, but you loved it so much. Now I have to sing something else, something entirely different. And I need some help singing it...but that help is going to cost a lot.

<pause>

There's no time to think about this. I have to go. I love you both. Goodbye.

---xxx

Personal Log: Councillor Ghest 7th May 2145

It is done. The surgery looked painless, but the sight of it. His head is a different shape now, from the harness. And his eyes...they look white, blank, just a tiny pupil staring ahead. He barely acknowledges us. The techs have said very little all day, I think they've gone beyond their ability to process what is happening. Maybe I have too, but I never could shut up. Well, except when trying to think of what to say to May. That always quietened me down. I wish I could speak to her now, before the end. Earth below is a pastiche of dark patches, gigantic, raging fires and smoke, and occasional patches of electric lighting still burning bright. Every few orbits there are less patches of lighting. What is left for us to save?

Conlon, if that's still Conlon, has been sitting at the ship's console, humming in to it. There are noises coming from the hull. I think he knows what he needs to do...the scanners indicate that the substance from the sphere is integrating everywhere. I think I'll call it Conlonite. Once it is complete, we fly in to the sphere. It should only take a few minutes to reach it with the speeds this craft is capable of, not to mention how close Dragonsphere is now.

I've been thinking. I believe the sphere somehow...absorbed the species of the alien who crashed on Earth. Somehow, they were able to persist inside the sphere. Some piece of them remained, and they altered Uncle Dean's dreams to teach him the song. The sphere must have been in contact with him before that, and 12 years ago, the aliens were taken, and they changed the dream.

The song is the key, but why could they not use it themselves? Maybe they could not survive inside the sphere without the Conlonite? Or maybe it was no use before their world was absorbed. From what I've seen, the hymns work on this ship, but they had no effect whatsoever on Earth matter. What if, for the song to do anything, the sphere needed to have matter from the alien world inside? Just like their mental essence, their physical essence changed the sphere.

Anyway...no further analysis is required. There is no changing the plan now. We have this, and we have nothing else. We wait for Conlon's move.

---xxx

Personal Log: Councillor Ghest 8th May 2145

Never forget Conlon, the chorister.

Never forget Smith, the burned man.

Never forget the alien, or his people.

They were our salvation. I cannot begin to explain what I saw, what I experienced inside the Dragonsphere. It was like walking through a graveyard filled with restless souls. Many of them bestial, as I suppose most species absorbed were not intelligent. Many were cowed, afraid of a more dominant consciousness that could cause them to suffer. Overall, there was anger, hatred, an unquenchable thirst for destruction and consumption. There was an ego, too, a sort of twisted pride in the sheer power the sphere commanded. There were machines within, the limbs of this disjointed, gestalt mind. They did the sphere’s bidding, and were surely the means, if not the architects, of Smith’s demise.

I am no closer to understanding what the sphere was, or how it worked, but it was more ancient than I think we can understand. Its current state was the product of everything it had absorbed. It had become something dark, evil...and yet, it had its benevolent parts. I could sense them yearning for release, cheering us to victory even as we destroyed them. Conlon's battle hymn was devastating, the ship answering his every beat, breath and note.

I do not know how many we lost on Earth. Shortly I will set out for home, now a journey of many days where once I might have been home on the same day I left CnC. We have lost a lot, and we must rebuild. I hope to find May and the children waiting for me, but nothing I have seen since landing encourages me to believe that they are out there, safe and sound. Still, I hope. We beat long odds before.

I know Abi and Steve survived. They are here, with the chorister. He is singing an odd song to the little boy, something about trains, though he hasn't said anything else. He doesn’t look at them, he just sits nearby and keeps singing, over and over. ‘‘Down by the station, early in the morning, see the little engines all in a row…’’

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