#stally

[that-one-english-nerd]

outsiders rare pairs hit DIFFERENT. like, have i always been a multi-shipper? yes, but i’ve reached a new level with this fandom‼️

[moodywritesmoody]

Sally silently snuck back into the van, about an hour after she’d left it. She thought she’d managed to sneak back into her blanket unnoticed, when Stella mumbled over her shoulder. “Nightmare?”

Sally gave a satisfying yelp, and punched Stella in the arm. It was worth it though, and she snickered but turned over to get a look at Sally’s face. She didn’t look more annoyed than usual; she was basically fine then. Except her face still looked haunted, and that had less to do with Stella and more to do with whatever she saw when she closed her eyes.

“My mum used to say that I got nightmares because I ate too much before bed.” She offered. They had just had a feast. Sally didn’t look too comforted though.

“Maybe you’re right.” She said without much conviction.

Stella reflected on how tired Sally seemed all the time. “Except it’s not the first time, is it? Dare I say not the second, third or fourth either?”

“Alright calm down detective.” She scoffed. “Recurring nightmares are not unheard of, and we’ve both seen some things.”

“You can say that again.”

Stella didn’t say anything else, but she didn’t feel very sleepy either. So she just lay still and listened for interesting noises outside - the universe beyond London traffic. Crickets, the creek, possibly a frog, something else she couldn’t pick out.

She thought Sally had fallen back asleep, but very quietly she spoke again.

“Stella, do you ever have dreams about cases you were on?”

“Yeah of course.” Stella couldn’t count how many times.

“Yeah but like, do you ever have the dream but, from the victim’s perspective? Like you were the victim? Or the perpetrator?”

Stella had to think more about that one. If she did have dreams like that, none stood out.

“Cause it’s been happening for a while, I think it might be my guilty conscience or something.”

“Guilty conscience?” Stella searched for Sally’s eyes in the dark, “guilty about what.”

Sally shrugged, turning to look at her. “You don’t ever feel guilty? Or have any regrets?”

“Are you talking about your last case? Cause that wasn’t your fault Sally.”

“No, not just that, I mean in general.”

In the silence, Stella tried to find the right words. Because she probably did know what Sally was talking about on some level. How could she not, they were both cops in what critics and pundits were calling one of the most corrupt police forces in the world, guilt and regret were standard fare. But it was a loaded conversation, and Stella was still at least half asleep.

“I guess I try my best to have nothing to feel guilty about. Why else do you think half the guys hate my guts.” She wasn’t exactly popular at work, except for the people she was popular with, but they were a minority. Incidentally a minority of people who she herself could stand being around.

“We’ve just got to work towards improving things, Donovan, that’s all there is for it.”

Sally scoffed, “You sound exactly like Lestrade.”

“What, you don’t buy it?”

“No!” She sat up and stared Stella down, “And I don’t think you buy it either.”

Stella tried to shush her, reaching for her mouth; Sally just batted her hand away.

“Well what are we supposed to do Sally, shut down Scotland fucking Yard? Come on, in what reality could that ever happen?”

“Yeah, good question. I feel like we’d actually get somewhere if we asked ourselves that question, but seriously - and not as a way to just shut people down.”

Stella sat up too, because Sally looked like she wanted to storm out into the cold again. “Hey, no, I’m not trying to shut you down, ok. I’m just being realistic, because I take this seriously too. Sal, look at me. I mean it.”

They didn’t want to wake everyone else up so they were sort of whisper yelling; but they had to talk kind of close to hear each other. If Stella leaned down just a few inches, she could lay her head on Sally’s shoulder. The Orange jumper she wore to sleep looked like it was made of fine desert sand.

Instead she nudged Sally with her shoulder. “Ok then, what kind of reality would have no Scotland Yard?”

“A fucking peaceful one.” Sally muttered, Stella could tell she was also trying to avoid a full blown fight. “A less paranoid one.”

“Mmm. One with less paperwork.” Stella added, getting into the mood a bit, like they were playing a game. “Probably one with better traffic honestly.”

“Yeah definitely.” Sally laughed quietly. She continued a little more seriously, “One with fewer traumatised kids, for sure.”

Stella nodded, this was definitely at least tangentially connected to Sally’s last case. But if she wanted to discuss it she’d bring it up herself.

“A London that doesn’t need Scotland Yard is a London that has figured out better ways to deal with all the shit that we handle disastrously, because we’re not equipped for it. I mean why are we handling mental health calls when half of us are bloody psychopaths?”

Stella hummed in understanding. Letting Sally get as much as she could off her chest; she’d been waiting for her to let her in on what was bothering her for a long time. But Sally held her cards close to her chest. Actually in that regard they weren’t so different. It probably also meant something that Sally still talked like she worked at Scotland yard; probably she didn’t need Ella to tell her that it was a sign of lack of closure or whatever.

“Most of the guys in the force are ten times worse than most of the people they lock up. I’m bloody worse than most of the people I’ve locked up, its no wonder I can’t fucking sleep. I don’t know how you do it.”

“What, sleep? Imported Melatonin baby.”

“No, how you manage to keep your untarnished soul. You’ve got that whole righteous anger thing going for you, don’t you?”

Something about that remark grated on Stella. At this point she regularly caught herself reacting as much to the things Sally didn’t say as to the things she did. “I dunno, sounds a bit like you’re putting me on a pedestal, Sergeant Donovan.”

———————————————————————

Chapter 3 Snippet

[reasoningdaily]

Good Luck Meg, we want to see you win ALL the Awards

[just-your-casual-nerd]

Bruh meeeee and youuuuuu @v3nusxsky

Fanfiction: there’s only one room available…

Me who specifically chose a Rated M and Explicit story: oh my gosh there’s only one room they’re gonna share a bed what’s gonna happen next

[puddingmilkt]

[歌詞翻譯] 安炳雄 Ahn Byeong Wong x Layone 張來沅 x 趙廣一 Jo Gwangil - Rain Drops (Prod. Stally & Kim Jisu) 

“괜찮을 거야 근데 내가 잘할 수 있을까” 發行: 22.09.14 / 專輯: rain drops (single)

(安炳雄) 每次也是無預兆驟降的雨點 連鞋子濕掉我也沒為意 我的雨傘 總被我丟失 濕透的衣服 放進乾衣機 每次也是無預兆驟降的雨點 連鞋子濕掉也沒為意 我的雨傘 總被我丟失 濕透的衣服 放進乾衣機 沒有雨傘 被雨點灑了一身 TV裡的氣象預告員 連領帶也濕透 手機因訊息提示而滾燙 放回褲兜 連接airpods 按下播放 Chet Baker on the list 即使會感冒 此刻也想耍帥 願望清單上這樣寫著 (its okay) 所以就讓我像crush哥那個meme 究竟這陣雨何時才會停止 (盡快吧) 每次也是無預兆驟降的雨點 連鞋子濕掉也沒為意 我的雨傘 總被我丟失 濕透的衣服 放進乾衣機 每次也是無預兆驟降的雨點 連鞋子濕掉也沒為意 我的雨傘 總被我丟失 濕透的衣服 放進乾衣機 (Layone) 擠不進乾衣機的單間房 在喇叭笛鳴之間度過的夏與冬 夢見自己在前度婚禮上 提岀反對 我那單間 連女性身影也未曾見過 總感覺渾身黏糊 的確想轉換新環境 但是看了看上半年結算 明擺是妄想 親愛的 下雨了 往哪去呢 醉什麼 沒帶錢包又怎樣喝暈 趁除濕器運行 水沸 倒進拉麪 夕陽西下之際 恍神了 來了空車 也不會乘往龍山方向 身體被可悲的面子佔據 手機宣佈電池沒剩5% 泡在新沙洞的夜店街 怪可憐的 (安炳雄) 每次也是無預兆驟降的雨點 連鞋子濕掉也沒為意 我的雨傘 總被我丟失 濕透的衣服 放進乾衣機 每次也是無預兆驟降的雨點 連鞋子濕掉也沒為意 我的雨傘 總被我丟失 濕透的衣服 放進乾衣機 (趙廣一) 今天不降雨 天氣預報明明這樣說 被雨澆了一身後 全日感覺不對勁 總認為梅雨季過後 不會繼續下雨  雖然正因這類想法 讓我一而再淋雨 想哭了我又 但我只想笑著 想問狂妄的青春 能被細小螺絲完全毀掉的 算得上太空船嗎 幾億顆雨點 無預兆急墜 雖然全身濕透 衣服濕透 現在已洗乾淨 杯空了 再斟滿就是 扛得過的 但是我能做得好嗎 即使單邊肩膀總是濕透 即使雙手永遠冷如冰塊 仍然分享我的所有 雖然也沒多少錢 但是今後 雨再微我也會先把傘撐好 (安炳雄) 每次也是無預兆驟降的雨點 連鞋子濕掉也沒為意 我的雨傘 總被我丟失 濕透的衣服 放進乾衣機 每次也是無預兆驟降的雨點 連鞋子濕掉也沒為意 我的雨傘 總被我丟失 濕透的衣服 放進乾衣機

[neotrances]

megan thee stallion speaking on how passing as a trans person can be fulfilling but self love regardless of if you fit into cis standards or pass is more important @ LA PRIDE 2023

[gilyoungroach]

you wish u were part of the bang gang (gmvn)

[moodywritesmoody]

Yo what if we mixed theory and fiction. Reconstructive fiction. Meta made flesh??

“An attempt to create a new conceptual terrain for imagining alternatives to imprisonment involves the ideological work of questioning why "criminals" have been constituted as a class and, indeed, a class of human beings undeserving of the civil and human rights accorded to others. Radical criminologists have long pointed out that the category "lawbreakers" is far greater than the category of individuals who are deemed criminals since, many point out, almost all of us have broken the law at one time or another.” ― Angela Y. Davis, Are Prisons Obsolete?

[pyritecaves]

hiiii it’s ya girl megan. i’m in recovery mode for now so catch me while you can. if you want to know which anime i'm currently watching hmu @ pyritecave

[dollypopup]

(to be the one) to walk in the sun

Summary: What if Penelope said yes to Debling's proposal? What if Colin never cut into that dance? cowritten with @starryspindel Rating: E Snippet:

1816

Dear Mr. Bridgerton, I am writing to request your help in a important-

Dearest Colin, How are you? I hope you are well on your travels. I am

Colin, I have made a mistake

Mansfield Park was, in her humble opinion, the most boring piece of literature written in the last hundred years, which was a shame really because she usually liked all the novels penned By a Lady. She might have liked the novel the first, or second, or even fifth read through, but now onto her twenty-third (or was it thirty sixth? Sixty fourth? Forty first? One, two, three, four-) she was getting quite sick of Fanny, the insipid protagonist with the backbone of a chocolate éclair.

When was the last time she had an éclair? At the wedding breakfast? The engagement ball? How many had she eaten that day? One, two, three, four-

Her life had devolved into a series of numbers, something she had once thought would be so easy to keep track of. How far the room spread, (one, two, three, four-), toe to toe, (five and seventy slippers apart from wall to wall at the farthest, toe to heel, and six and thirty by the shorter end), the exact number of seams, immaculately maintained, from the papered walls, (one, two, three-), the slats of sunbeam through the curtains, (more in the midday than the morning) (one, two-). Once she began occupying herself with how many instances of the letter ‘a’ she could find ruffling through the book, (one- one- one- one-), she felt something within her splinter. 

But, as with everything in her life, now, there was nowhere for it to be kept but inside. 

So, she read. All but howled in her head as she huffed. Leave, Fanny. You could simply leave.

Fiction had, after all, been such a means of escape for her in the past. 

[twisting-roads]

I've never used a lickilicky until now and I'll be honest I don't regret it

[moodywritesmoody]

The Rivers of New Scotland Yard (A Stally fanfic - ft Ella and Janine being a riot)

Janine let the rest of their arguing go unheard as she continued to check on the contents of the boiling, grilling, and frying pots and pans. It was going to be a feast - that was the most exciting part; everyone could at least agree on that. In maybe another hour they would all be eating and drinking and making merry.

Then maybe after a few ciders and when they were all partied out and content, Janine might ask Ella for an easy no pressure chat.

It struck her again, how weird it was that she was friends with Ella at all. Because Ella was her ex-boyfriend’s therapist, the answers to some of his most baffling behaviour was forever just beyond her grasp. Even if they had only been fake dating. And not in the cute fanfiction sense. Enough time had passed since Sherlock revealed his lies that she felt she could probably survive happily not knowing just what he was thinking at the time, but also just enough time had passed that Ella might maybe let some inconsequential detail slip. Inconsequential but enlightening. And so the temptation to beg an insight off of her was ever present. She still hadn’t managed to convince Ella that the ethics of Doctor-patient confidentiality were short sighted at best and blunt force trauma at worst. But Janine was persuasive, she was Irish after all.

Ella was presently negotiating some agreement about technology usage with her teenagers. And after a few minutes of civil debate, they seemed to come to acceptable terms and went separate ways again. The kids back to the stream and Ella to their busy kitchen set-up.

“Ogh, this smells insanely good already, Janine.”

“Thank you kindly. Salted with the sweat of my brow.”

“I’m glad you’re such an excellent cook because if we had to do Sainsbury's pies around the fire this wouldn’t be nearly as fun.”

“Hey you make a really good beef stew now. It only took you, what, two tries to master it?”

“Yeah because you just cut the stuff and toss it in a pot and forget about it until it starts to smell good, that’s about as complex as I can handle. Probably also because you’re such a patient teacher.”

Janine felt chuffed, but shrugged like it was no big deal. She was a patient teacher, no big deal.

“Well you’re a great student.”

Ella gave her a look, “No I’m not.”

“No, you’re not.”

Ella chuckled.

Janine chortled.

“Don’t tell my kids, I like that they think I was a model student in school, instead of a permanent resident of detention.”

“Nah, your kids would be proud of you.”

“Hah.”

“They had a rebel as a mum. A proper trouble maker.”

“Yeah well. They’re both doing so well already, I won’t sabotage that for anything.”

“Fair.”

…

(Chapter 2 snippet)

[popdiosa]

MEGAN THEE STALLION via instagram

[mcudc616]

Monsters Unleashed (1973) cover by Neal Adams

[julie-toons]

[earth222ky]

meg and cardi too fine