#resurrection's daughter

[sewersaga]

PROLOGUE: THE SAKURA SMILES

PAIRING: okkotsu yuta x reader

IN WHICH: Avoidance is your mother tongue. Born in Tokyo to a Japanese mother and Kenyan father, you were unable to see your homeland the same after your mother’s tragic and mysterious death. Out of all people, an awkward Japanese boy that your uncle dragged back with him teaches you to embrace rather than evade, but your family secrets run deep. Returning to Japan promises a shitshow, but you’ve learned there are many reasons to make it worthwhile, and most importantly, you’ve learned that what you don’t know can hurt you. In fact, what you don’t know has placed a bounty on your head.

WARNING: i am not kenyan!! please take this fic with a grain of salt, but don't be afraid to (nicely) correct me on the likely inaccuracies! im vv open to feedback! i am also not white! if you want to insult me for my stupidity, take into account that i am part black ok thanks.

You love your country. 

You love the rolling skyline of Nairobi, and you love the duality of the animals roaming on the savanna just outside of the city. You love walking the streets with your uncle as the vendors call out to you, offering the tastiest samosas on this side of the continent. You love your neighborhood, and you love your little house with its rusty orangey-red roof. You even love the unexpected house guests that your uncle drags in occasionally. 

You loved your father. More than anything. The main thing you remember about him was that he was large. Whenever you were afraid, he would take you in his arms and you’d feel like nothing could hurt you. Not even the things that would jump out at you on the street that no one else seemed to be able to see, the things that would whisper and beg you for help. You’d cry out, and bury your face into your Baba’s chest, and everything would be alright again. 

Then, he was gone, with little explanation, and little closure. You were thirteen, and quickly pawned off onto your uncle. He was a good guy, but he was no Baba. Your Uncle Miguel knew everything about everything. Around the same size as your father, he could easily intimidate anyone who challenged him, or god forbid, you. But he didn’t know the first thing about raising a child, let alone a grieving teenage girl. 

Your mother passed away when you were only five. You don’t remember much about her, but the stories stuck with you for ages. Back then, your family wasn’t living in Nairobi. Tokyo was where you called home, Mama, Baba, Uncle Miguel, and you. That’s where you were born, and the four of you lived like a happy family. Mama would read you stories, and take you for walks, and to the zoo, and to the park, and Baba and Uncle Miguel would tend to their business. 

But Mama got sick, and her decline was quick, her condition traveling an elusive downward slope. There were hushed conversations between Baba and your Uncle, puzzled doctors, and days spent curled in her side in an uncomfortable hospital bed. You remember the warmth as her gaunt hand curled around your smaller one, and the quiet beeps of the machines she was hooked up to, as if all the wires would somehow be able to tell the doctors what was going on. 

Whatever it was, it wasn’t anything that was discernible to the average man. You sat at the hospital window, watching as the sakura tree outside the window shed its blossoms. Mama slept in the bed behind you, her face pale, cheekbones sunken in. Soon you’d be starting kindergarten, and you decided not to tell anyone about the clump of monsters reminiscent of a school of fish that swam around just below the blossoming tree. 

While Mama quietly wasted away, you spent your days in front of the window, watching the clustered creatures for any sort of changes. They never moved, gargling unintelligibly at passersby who obviously didn’t hear them. For a time, you were never exactly sure if what you were seeing was real. You’d been told you had an overactive imagination, especially by Baba and Uncle Miguel. But the sight was so vivid. You’d seen things like it before, but never this close. You wanted to approach the monsters, to see if they’d scatter once they knew someone was aware of their presence.

Early summer came, bringing with it your chance to investigate your current obsession. Mama seemed to be getting better, eating more, sleeping less, helping you learn the kanji for your name as well as the Swahili. Since Mama had been so active, you’d had little opportunity to take to your favorite pastime in front of the window. Finally, after a lot of repeating and coaxing your small hand to hold the pencil correctly, she dozed off. You climbed out of bed, being careful not to wake her with the absence of your weight as you approached the window. To your surprise, the clump of monsters was not alone today. Near it stood a little boy close to your own age. 

You weren’t sure if he was in trouble, but he seemed to be looking directly at it. Surely that meant he could see it as well? You weren’t sure, and you had to find out. 

After skillfully evading the doctors and escaping the hospital, you found your way to the sakura tree just outside Mama’s window, one that now sported luscious green leaves on its branches rather than the blossoms that came with springtime. As you got closer to the creepy thing, you became aware of a voice shouting, and the boy that you had seen earlier. 

He was gesturing wildly at the thing. You weren’t sure if he was simply ignoring the odd stares from passersby, or if he was so consumed in his one-sided standoff with this monster that he didn’t even notice that they couldn’t see it. Either way, he seemed convinced that childish threats of violence would get it to move from its home beneath the tree. He was truly idiotic. You decided you had to let him know. 

“Hey. What do you think you’re doing?” The boy’s gaze snapped over to you at your exclamation, tirade quickly coming to an end. His brows furrowed, and you worried for a moment that his anger would now be directed at you. 

“What does it look like I’m doing? I’m trying to get this abomination to go away and stop scaring people.” His tone was cool, a sharp contrast to his outburst just moments earlier. You weren’t sure what the word abomination meant, but it sure made him sound smart. Maybe you were outclassed here? You quickly shook off the thought, standing your ground. 

“It’s not even that scary,” Your response isn’t a complete lie. It’s more off-putting than scary. And the closer you get, the grosser it looks. The gurgling noises it seems to be so fond of also aren’t exactly appetizing.   “So why are you yelling?”

“I’m not saying I think it’s scary,” He clearly didn’t want you getting the wrong idea. You couldn’t stop yourself from scoffing. The kid was scrawny, no matter the tough-guy image he was obviously trying to exude. “But others obviously do. They keep coming over here and running away because it looks so icky,” He stuck his tongue out to punctuate the last statement, an exaggerated shudder wracking his small body. “So, you gonna run away now,too, scaredy-cat?”

“Why would I run away? I already came over here,” God, he was annoying, with that presumptuous attitude. You weren’t afraid. You just didn’t want to be around that thing for longer than you had to. It was perfectly reasonable. “Plus, maybe people are running away because you’re shouting for no reason. Look at them. Do you think they can even see it?” You gestured to the people going about their day behind the scene he’d created, and lo and behold, now that things had reasonably cooled down, not a single eye was batted at the “abombernation,” or whatever word he’d used. 

“Maybe you’re right.” He spoke, his mouth twisting in a silent concession. You hated that he acted so disappointed that you had the upper hand. 

“Of course I’m right. Because I know lots, and you’re just an idiot boy who uses big words he doesn’t know the meaning of.” You crossed your arms over your chest with a small hmmph. He scoffed, quickly scrambling for words. 

“What? I read the dictionary all the time. I know big words because I’m smart. You couldn’t dream of knowing as much fancy words as me. Are you even Japanese?” He pointed at you with the last statement, seeming content to leave it there until something seemed to sink in and his cheeks flushed. “Plus, who do you think you’re calling a boy?” 

You were about to respond until it was your turn to have a realization. “Are you… not a boy?” Though when you thought twice, he really did have delicate features. You’d never seen a boy with eyes like that, and you had been wondering why he’d chosen a My Melody bandaid for a small scrape on his knee. 

“No! I’m a girl! You can ask my parents. Unless you want proof.” You visibly balked at her final comment. You’d never before met anyone your age who made comments like that. 

“I’ll take your word for it,” You paused, remembering one more thing you wanted to clear up. And by the way, I’m half Japanese. Remember it next time you wanna make fun of me.” 

“I didn’t mean it like that,” She ran a hand through her short hair sheepishly. “Yagami Rize. Sorry for the misunderstanding.” 

“Whatever. And I guess I’m sorry too. I didn’t know you were a girl,” You hold out your hand for her to shake. She looks at it with an indiscernible look in her eyes before taking it and gently shaking. “[Name Kariuki].”

“Kariuki?” Her hand goes limp in yours, but neither of you lets go as she tilts her head in mild curiosity.” 

“It’s Kenyan. My Baba is from there, and it’s the best country ever.” She drops your hand as her face lights up with visible excitement. 

“I’ve always wanted to go to Kenya! Have you ever seen a giraffe or a zebra?” You wondered if Yagami Rize had noticed that she was jumping up and down a little. Honestly, you suppressed the urge to react the same way at the mention of the awesome animals. But, something made you hesitate. 

“I haven’t really been there before. But Baba promises to take me soon, as soon as Mama is better.” You admitted, afraid of disappointing your new friend with the truth. But she simply shrugged. 

“I guess we’re in the same boat then. Just make sure to send me lots of pictures when you do go,” She smiled. “I’d better go now.” She began to leave nonchalantly. You were about to do the same when a suppressed gurgle reminded you of the reason for your meeting a new friend.

“Wait!” You called after her. “What are we going to do about that thing?” 

She tilted her head, thinking for a moment. “What else can we do? Yelling didn’t work. Obviously it’s meant to stay there until someone bigger drives it away.” Her words were confident, haughty, and definitive. But coming from her mouth, it was less annoying than it was reassuring. It reminded you of the self-assured way your Uncle Miguel spoke.

“I guess you’re right.” You sighed. And it was the truth, because what were two kids to do against something that adults couldn’t even see? It was frustrating, but at least there would be no break in your window gazing routine. 

“See ya then, Kariuki. Lemme know when you see a zebra.” Rize sent you a lazy wave, before she was on her way. You gave the creature one final look tinted with childish animosity before deciding to head back into the hospital. You wanted to tell Mama about your new, smart friend. 

When you came back into the room, Mama was still. She looked like she was napping, but something was different. Her hand was cold. Fear gripping your chest, you called for a nurse. 

Mama had the sheets pulled up over her face, but her hands were still free. They were just as cold as they were earlier. You pried her rigid fingers apart, forcing a pencil between them. “Please, Mama. Show me how to write my name again.”

At the funeral, you sat outside on the ground, dirtying your new clothes. You traced your name in the dirt with your finger, over and over again. [Name] Kariuki, [Name] Kariuki. Distant, resurrected. Mama was far away and she wasn’t coming back. You were learning Swahili. There was talk about Uncle Miguel moving back to Kenya, and he wanted you and Baba to go with him. You were just a child. What were you to do against the will of two adults? You spread the smooth, summery soil over the grooves of your name, and went back to where everyone else was gathered.

[vintrage]

can someone please get this girl her dog back

[foolsocracy]

Now having watched Frankenstein (1931) I find this really interesting. I didn't really expect the writers themselves to have watched the film; I assumed they saw it was a horror film released in Pete's time and included it with the bonus that the audience would know the story because its Frankenstein. It really aligns with the themes of spider noir though, so I'm second guessing myself.

I read Frankenstein a while back so I'm not as familiar with it as I once was, but I'd say its generous to say the movie is based off of the original novel. It hits some of the points but it really is different. I mean, in the film its Henry Frankenstein, not even Victor.

In the film, the monster is played almost-infantile. He reaches out towards light as if he could grab it. He plays with a little girl by a lake, throwing in flowers to watch them float like boats. When he kills her, it's an accident. How could he have known that she wouldn't float along with the flowers? Its Frankenstein and his assistant who are portrayed as monstrous. They lock him in the dark for three days. The intimidate him with fire and whips and fists.

Despite this, its Frankenstein who gets the 'good end,' while the monster is left to burn alive, pinned inside a wooden mill set alight by the townspeople.

Pete could have gotten nightmares from a number of scenes. Although I wouldn't personally say this is a scary film, there are definitely unnerving parts. There was also a different standard in 1931 for what was scary in film, plus Pete was already living a hard life at such a young age when he saw it.

Based on the panels themselves it is clear that Pete was scared of the monster itself (which is fair, the make up and costuming wanted him to be frightening). "I expected him to tell me there's no such thing as monsters," because no one in real life is a resurrected, looming... once-man-now-creature. (Just you wait, Peter). It's a more juvenile read of the film but Pete is a kid. Ben though, is a veteran, a socialist, has been around the block. He has the sense to analyze the film and interpret it differently. It is the men who find themselves with a capacity for senseless cruelty that are the monsters. That is exactly what the noir comics are about.

I really like that it's clear that Uncle Ben knows what Peter is about to learn. It also shows how much Pete has changed, just within the 1-2 years since he'd seen Frankenstein.

[artthatgivesmefeelings]

Ilya Yefimovich Repin (Ukrainian-born Russian) Resurrection of Jairus' daughter, 1871 State Russian Museum, St. Petersburg The raising of Jairus' daughter is a reported miracle of Jesus that occurs in the synoptic Gospels, where it is interwoven with the account of the healing of a bleeding woman. The narratives can be found in Mark 5:21–43, Matthew 9:18–26 and Luke 8:40–56.

[princehendir]

I can't tell if the pacing here is really bad & the game is just springing a lot of information on me out of nowhere or if I'm just kinda dumb and wasn't paying attention

[numelfanclub]

🫛

[vancila]

new ai @gunthermunch commission dropped of my WORST son who fills my heart with love every single time i see him out and about

[sonohtigris]

alien franchise *slaps roof of ripley* this lady can fit so much trauma in her

[kapacb413]

unedited lobotomy corporation screenshot

[skylark325]

ORV SPOILERS ‼️

Haha guys? It’s not funny anymore ok let’s stop.

[sewersaga]

RESURRECTION'S DAUGHTER

MASTERLIST / GENERAL MASTERLIST

IN WHICH: Avoidance is your mother tongue. Born in Tokyo to a Japanese mother and Kenyan father, you were unable to see your homeland the same after your mother’s tragic and mysterious death. Out of all people, an awkward Japanese boy that your uncle dragged back with him teaches you to embrace rather than evade, but your family secrets run deep. Returning to Japan promises a shitshow, but you’ve learned there are many reasons to make it worthwhile, and most importantly, you’ve learned that what you don’t know can hurt you. In fact, what you don’t know has placed a bounty on your head.

WARNING: i am not kenyan!! please take this fic with a grain of salt, but don't be afraid to (nicely) correct me on the likely inaccuracies! im vv open to feedback! i am also not white! if you want to insult me for my stupidity, take into account that i am part black ok thanks.

also you’re blasian ok

prologue: the sakura smiles

MORE COMING

[avemakuta]

Next multi-doctor special wishlist:

Paul McGann as the eighth Doctor, in the flesh, in a full episode, before it's too late.

Eleven, in between the Ponds and Clara, so we get to really see what he's like between companions.

David Tennant does not appear, so that Jenny can appear.

[a-pretty-nerd]

Choose Me

Viktor x afab!fem!reader

Chapter 9

Summary: You are "salvageable."

Chapter 8

Here is a link to the updated Masterlist of the series.

Warnings: VIEWER DISCRESSION IS ADVISED! Some real Frankestien shit this chapter. Descriptions of a corpse, violence, gore, reanimation. You mean science went wrong, again!? Gasp! No! You ever just wanna go apeshit?

A/N: I've been really looking forward to writing this chapter because it was very important to me. This fanfiction has been a lead up to this and the following chapters. I'm sorry it took so long, I was going through it. But I hope you guys enjoy this addition.

"Salvageable..." Viktor spoke in disgust, "you call your own child...Salvageable?" He spat at your father. He had pulled himself up to lean on his worktable, the morning paper clutched to his chest in one hand. He glared at the man who stood before. His stomach turning with the rage of a hurricane.

"I was lucky she died on my property otherwise it would have been far more difficult to pass the fake off to the authorities. The blunt-force trauma she suffered in her fall can be fixed with some simple iron work."

"I don't believe what I am hearing..."

"You are not the only man of scientific genius in Piltover. My team and I are confident that with the help of hextech we could-"

"You and your team of lunatics are mistaken!" Viktor shouted, his fingers clutching the newspaper he pressed to his chest as he supported himself with the other.

"You are speaking to an investor, son! I suggest you watch your tone with me!" He threatened. Viktor shook his head.

"I suggest you leave, immediately." He turned his back only for your father to swiftly approach him. He grabbed his shoulder and wrenched Viktor back to face him.

"I don't think you understand what I'm saying. You have a chance to make things right here." His fingers dug into Viktor's shoulders. "We could perform the ultimate miracle. Don't you see? You could bring her back to life..." Your father's voice became soft and encouraging. Viktor paused. He thought for a moment. Could it be? Did he really have what it took to bring you back from the dead? All his trials, all his failed experiments just to cure himself. Could it really work? His curiosity was getting the better of him. When Viktor didn't answer your father, he just patted him on the shoulder. "Think it over, son. I'll see you at the funeral."

Viktor did not attend the funeral. He found himself trapped amongst his work, trying to understand what your father meant. What he had done to convince himself that hextech could reanimate a dead body. As far as Viktor was concerned, it was impossible. He couldn't even begin to solve the issue of keeping his subjects from rotting. So how could it bring anyone back from the dead?

Jayce went to your funeral in Viktor's place. He mourned you the way a friend should. Standing tall in his suit with a frown and a few well-intentioned tears as "your" casket passed by him. He said a small prayer to the body that laid in your place. He found himself frustrated by the whole thing. He watched as familiar faces young and old cried for their loss. You had drawn an impressive crowd and yet amongst them Viktor was absent. By the end, Jayce received a telegram informing him that Viktor was being held by police for breaching the blockade Jayce had enforced just days prior.

Viktor sat and watched as Police forces held back an angry mob of furious Undercity residents. He coughed into a handkerchief as his mind swirled with intense emotion and fear. Guilt making his body feel heavier than usual.

"Jayce, what is this?"

"Do you have any idea how this looks? I order a blockade and my own partner violates it!?" He hissed at him as he approached.

"You, ordered this? Why?"

"There are people down there hell bent on destroying us. What were you doing down there!?"

"I was consulting someone about..." He paused, "about our quandary. I told you I knew someone."

"Well you didn't say they were from the Undercity!"

"What difference does that make?"

"What difference- They're dangerous!" Viktor's eyes narrowed at Jayce.

"I'M from the Undercity." He reminded him with a cold gaze as he got up, smacking Jayce's hand away as he tried to help him up.

"You're right. I'm sorry. I've just...had a lot on my plate and today...I...well, was your friend able to help?" Viktor considered Jayce's question for a moment.

"No. No he said nature was resistant to this sort of...tampering." Viktor lied as a vile of curated shimmer sat patiently in his pocket.

"We'll keep at it then...You uh...you missed the funeral."

"I know." Viktor nodded.

"You should have been there." Jayce told him softly as they walked back together. Viktor shuffling along side as he shook his head.

"No. No I don't think I should."

"Look, I know how close you were. You can't just ignore this. Who cares what her shitty father thinks, you had every right to be there. To...to mourn that loss." Viktor gritted his teeth as Jayce smoke. He knew Jayce had very little idea what the reality of the situation was, and his previous insult and disregard was beginning to grate on Viktor's nerves.

Behind them the crowd shouted as a flaming bottle was thrown and crashed on the path behind them. They watched for a moment before Viktor spoke.

"I have work to do." Viktor dismissed him through his teeth, trying to keep his composure. Jayce couldn't believe Viktor could be so cold and unfeeling. He watched Viktor leave as more storm clouds began to roll in from above.

What does it feel like to be dead? You might say there is a form of release. Floating in weightless nothing as consciousness slowly erodes. Perhaps that wasn't death. Merely the in-between. The darkness you wade through like when you're close to falling asleep. The voices you heard sometimes sounded familiar. Sometimes a word or two said by voices you recognized but couldn't identify. If this wasn't death, what was it? Where were you?

Sometimes there was music. Yes, music. Violin, piano, flute. A voice singing along with muddled words. Memories, perhaps.

Viktor was escorted in by your father's staff. He had doubled the security, doubled the efforts. Viktor's eyes inspected every inch of the house as he was brought up to the attic. For the first time he saw the home you grew up in. The oddly sterile and formal home your mother made and your father maintained.

Viktor's stomach tossed and turned as he followed your father's hulking and disheveled being into the attic. His breath caught in his throat. He froze at the sight of the room. The intricate machinery, the crudely made controls, the hextech inspired work. Viktor was disgusted. His first inclination was to get away, to run. But the guards behind him kept him there. His frightened golden eyes flashed over the table in the center of the room. His heart sank. Thunder and lightening crackled outside as the yellow lights cascaded down.

"The storm is upon is, sir. We are ready to begin." The mad doctor said, wearing bandages from wounds you gave him a few nights ago. Your father nods and thanks the man as they begin their preparations. The old man turns to Viktor with sad, tired eyes.

"I'm sure as a man of science you're curious to know the procedure when it comes to these things."

"These things?" Viktor asked firmly, fighting back the urge to lay into the old man. He nodded with a somber expression. He pointed towards the table in the center of the room. Draped in a cloth, the shell of yourself lay.

"Unfortunately, she's been a bit more scuffed up than other subjects." He hears your father's voice as the doctor slowly removes the cloth. Revealing your body. Viktor's heart stops for a moment as his eyes adjust to the sight. It's your body, but it's not you. You aren't there. Your head is partially shaven and metal disks have been used to patch up your broken skull. Down your middle is a massive autopsy-like cut that has been carefully sewn back together. "So we had to improvise. We repaired her broken bones with hearty metals that will continue to heal with time. We were lucky her organs were mostly unharmed. It made the removal of some easier."

"Removal?" Viktor asked curiously. Your father nodded.

"We had to remove a kidney which had be pierced by a broken bone as well as her uterus. If we let the embryo fester any longer it would have rotted her from the inside out, and then we would have nothing. Once decomposition sets in, they're lost to us." Viktor tries to process his words. He tries to process everything, but some words stick to him and suck out all his attention and energy. He blinks a few times before looking up at the old cowboy. One word stands out in particular.

"Embryo?" His voice is low and soft, as if he's afraid to say the word at all. Your father's face turns deceptively sympathetic.

"Did she not tell you?" He asks abruptly. Viktor's brows furrow as his eyes narrow at him in confusion.

"She was..."

"Yes, son. I'm afraid so." Your father straightened his posture as he walked past Viktor. He turned his attention to the machinery, checking wiring and tubing and calculations. "But the time to worry about that has passed. We can still save her."

The storm crashes above them. Switches are flipped as the air becomes electric. Viktor can feel little static shocks as he holds his crutch close. Leaning on it as the sudden pressure in the air forces him into a coughing fit. He coughs blood into his handkerchief as the machines around them vibrate to life. The roof is opened and the cold night air floods the room. Viktor looks up to watch your father approach your body. In his hands are the unmistakable hex crystals Viktor and Jayce supplied. The very thing you gave your life to stop.

He watches in frozen horror as the mournful man places the crystals in your empty eye sockets. While the doctor prepares a syringe. The purple liquid sparkles brightly. A deep purple that leans more blue than red. Viktor recognizes it. Shimmer. No doubt something that has been engineered by the great Mr.Y/L/N himself. How is he so confident that this will work? How does he know? What other subjects have there been?

The shimmer is injected into your hollow veins, intermingling with your still blood. It pushes through, forcing blood and shimmer through you as your shell lays there, waiting. The men stand back, their eyes leaving you to look up to the storm above. Your father backs away to stand firmly by a lever. He looks at Viktor.

"You might want to brace yourself, son." His voice demands. Viktor's eyes frantically dart between him and your body, until the flash of lightening from above distracts him.

"All hands stand by!" The doctor shouts formally. As if he's done this a thousand times. "Ready!" All eyes stare up at at clouds above as the wind blows through the room. Viktor rests himself against a control panel as he watches with sick curiousity. Wide, watering eyes observing every movement. He watches as several rods of metal fight against the harsh storm winds. Reaching out for a chance that lightening will strike. As if sent by the gods themselves, lightning stretches across the sky like the veins of an electric beast. They flash and then suddenly a blinding light strikes upon them. Without hesitation your father switches the lever and electricity is funneled through wires and tubes.

Sparks pop wildly into the room as they try to sheild their eyes with goggles and arms. Viktor hunches over to cover his face as the machine's vibrations turn to uneasy rattling. Your body jerks wildly as the energy is funneled into you.

You begin to shake violently. Crashing down to earth as the concept of feeling returns. Your body clattering against the metal table while your consciousness is pulled back. Pain. Nothing put pain. The nothingness gave way to feelings. Physical. Your mouth opens as air is pushed out of your lungs. Announcing your gruesome return by pushing the air out of your lungs. Your eyelids snap open as the hex crystals spark to life as if they were your own eyes. The magic and shimmer and electricity course through you. Your mouth let's out an inhumane shriek.

They duck in pain as they cover their ears to the sound. It rings on for far longer than it should have as the room trembles like there's an earthquake. The rattling of the machines turns to concerning shaking. Sparkes flying when they shouldn't be. Your father shouts something at the doctors, demanding that they stabilize you.

Viktor unshielded his eyes to watch you. There you are. Shrieking in pain as your body is wracked with tremors, a monster of your former glory. He shakes his head. Hot tears streaming down his cheeks as wide eyes burn the imagine into his skull forever. He scrambles back towards the door. He runs. The best he can, he escapes back out into the night and doesn't stop until he's home.

Leaving you to shriek again as the building shakes. The windows shatter at the frequency of your voice as you come crashing back to earth.

[mysterious-secret-garden]

Victor-Oscar Guétin - Resurrection of the daughter of Jairus, 1902.

[clonerightsagenda]

Think I may have posted this before but my biggest TLT question is what happened to the moon. It's never mentioned. Several of the other houses were originally space program installations before John broke everything, was there really no moon installation? That's hard to believe. Did he accidentally launch it into space a la The Broken Earth. Where Is She