A Book Comes to Life Club
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posted by AislingYJ
Sorry it took so long...I got really lazy and stuff but it’s finished now! Warning: cussing (that’s as far as it goes for mature content) and LOTS of feels. Part one is link.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Vic's moyo skips a beat. No. It can't-- but she's--
But the message is there, plain as day, as real as the sun in the sky and the hope in his heart. His first thought is that it's a fake, an imposter, trying to lure him into a trap. His head is telling him to stay in the safety of the flat, but his moyo is screaming for him to go to the café. He decides to trust his heart, hoping with all his might that it's really her. That she never was dead, that she regretted leaving and she wants him back. And something's telling him that it's not a fake. The text sounds so like her; everything in the short message, down to the signature, screams Marion Holmes. Shoving his phone into his pocket and throwing his kanzu, koti over his shoulders, he races down the steps and onto the street.
Fifteen agonizingly slow dakika later, the cab pulls up to the curb in front of East Café and Vic scrambles out, moyo racing, hands shaking as he fumbles with his wallet. Dropping the bills into the cabbie's palm, he mumbles a quick thanks and straightens his koti, jacket as he walks towards the café. He cranes his neck, staring at all the customers, searching for the girl he needs right now zaidi than anything in the world. Third meza, jedwali on the left, third meza, jedwali on the left... It's almost four o'clock, but the café is still packed; a middle-aged, tired looking couple with a slew of screaming kids, an older man with a mug of coffee and a laptop, a group of giggling teenaged girls, a young dark haired woman and blonde man, clearly a couple, laughing at something...Wait. He knows that girl. moyo sinking, he slowly walks over.
She doesn't seem to notice him at first, and he studies her carefully. She's changed so much these last two years that she's almost unrecognizable now. Her hair is shorter, the now stick-straight strands cascading just past her shoulders, and it is lighter at the ends, suggesting that it was recently dyed and has just faded back to its original rich, dark brown. Her once-bright eyes have Lost their spark, and her face looks gaunt, haggard, skin sagging and heavy bags around her tired eyes.
The young man, on the other hand, looks alert and alive, impossibly white teeth flashing as he beams at her, chocolate-brown eyes sparkling, neatly combed blonde hair practically glowing in the sunlight. He looks like he’s about to say something when he spots Vic out of the corner of his eye, and he frowns. Marion, puzzled, swings her head in Vic’s direction, and her grin falters, eyes wide with surprise. “Vic?”
Vic crosses his arms, rage bubbling through him. Not bothering to waste time on pointless greetings, he cuts directly to the moyo of the matter. “Where the fuck have wewe been the past two years? And who’s this asshole?”
The blonde looks indignant and opens his mouth to speak but Marion, unfazed, puts out a hand to stop him. “Victor,” she says calmly, tone as pompous as ever. Vic doesn’t even bother to point out that he prefers not to be called kwa his full name. “First of all, it hasn’t been two years. It’s been twenty-one months.”
Vic clenches his fists, infuriated, and is about to protest when she continues.
“But that’s beside the point. I’ve been gone for a reason, a very good reason, and one that wewe probably don’t want to hear. So I’ll spare wewe the details.”
“Because wewe care about me, right?” he spits sarcastically. “Because wewe know I’ll be unhappy, and wewe don’t want to make me unhappy? Of course wewe don’t. You’re always looking out for my feelings. That’s why wewe fucking left, and made me think wewe were fucking DEAD.” He’s yelling now, but he doesn’t care. The hum of chatter that filled the café has gone silent, all heads turned to stare at Vic. Vic ignores it, cocking an eyebrow as he waits for a response. Finally it comes, quietly.
“Victor, I didn’t mean--”
Vic’s face burns with rage. “You didn’t mean what? wewe didn’t mean to disappear? wewe didn’t mean to vanish without a fucking trace, make us all think you’d been fucking murdered? Bullshit. wewe know what it was like when Sherlock did it to you! Why did wewe think wewe could do it to me?” His voice breaks on the last word, and he has gone quiet, the color draining from his face. His vision starts blurring, and he realizes that his eyes are swimming with tears. Biting his lip, he blinks them away, hoping she doesn’t notice. She probably does, because she stares up at him, a deep sadness in those pale blue-green eyes. He shoves his hands in his pockets and looks away, blood still broiling as he tries to kumeza down another outburst. It doesn’t quite work.
“And who the fuck is this guy? Your boyfriend?”
Marion blinks at him, and the blonde man raises an eyebrow. Marion clears her throat. “This is Simon, and he’s not my boyfriend.”
Simon smiles. “You must be Victor then? Nice to meet you.” He extends a hand amiably, but Vic doesn’t take it. He already hates the man. He’s too pretty, too perfect, and Vic knows that unlike himself, Simon has everything Marion needs. He swallows down the lump in his throat, then abruptly turns on his heels and begins to walk away.
“Simon’s a lucky man,” he calls over his shoulder, not bothering to look for her reaction as he walks out of the restaurant and hails a cab. “Baker Street,” he mutters, still blinking back the hot tears gathering at the edges of his vision, and doesn’t look back as the cab speeds away.

~~~

I am right here with you.
au at least I thought I was.
Pretended I was.
Because now I’m only a ghost.
Why, Marion? wewe break my heart, burn me up, tear me apart.
Why don’t wewe see that you’re doing this?
And why do I let wewe break me? I want to let go, but I can’t.
I can’t go back now.
It kills me with every breath to see the life I left. There’s no way I can turn back. Only wewe can save me, only wewe know who I am.
Please.
I’m reaching out my hand.
Save me Marion.
Save me now.

--VW


~~~

He groans, deleting the unsent message. He can’t send it anymore. It just feels odd, now that he knows she’s seeing them. Funny, how before he wanted zaidi than anything to have her back but now he only wants her gone. No, not even that. He wishes she had never came back. It just hurts too much; so much worse to know she’s alive and he can’t have her, than to remain in the blissful illusion of her death. The truth is cold.
    By the time the cab reaches Baker mitaani, mtaa it’s early evening. Swallowing down the lump in his throat, he unlocks the door with shaking hands and trudges up the stairs into the flat. No sign of John au Sherlock, and he spots a note on the counter, hastily scrawled, in John’s handwriting. Out on a case. Should be chakula in the fridge, if not go down to Angelo’s. Will probably be back later tonight. --JW
    Sighing, he crumples the note and walks over to the fridge, but thinks better of it and sinks down onto the kitanda instead. He isn’t very hungry. Staring at the wall, littered with bullet holes and that irritating repeated pattern, he isn’t surprised when the first of the tears breaks free and slides down his cheek. After that, they all come in a rush, and he’s violently sobbing, body shaking as fat teardrops soak into the fabric of the chair where he’s resting his head. Gasping for breath, eyes stinging from the deluge of tears pouring down his face, he pushes himself upright, wiping his nose and eyes, which only makes the pain worse. As quickly as it started, his eyes run dry, and he slumps backwards, feeling the void inside him swelling until it threatens to engulf him completely.
Time creeps by. He doesn’t know how long he’s been in the chair, frozen, unmoving. He feels empty, hollow, skin stretched tight over an empty frame. He doesn’t realize that the sadness has melted into anger until he stands, fists clenched tight. Unable to think, to hold off the swirling rage, he finds himself pacing, feet thundering on the floor, knuckles white. He’s in Marion’s room now, surrounded kwa the clutter of all the items she’s left behind. This is one of the first times he’s actually set foot in her room, and although most of the clothes are missing, at first glance you’d never know that she was gone. Blindly, he walks to her dresser, fingers running along the line of dust that coats every surface. Strange objects, things he couldn’t identify even if he tried. With a low growl, he flings himself against the wood cabinet, barely making a dent but causing pain to spiral through his body. But that only spreads the fire; blind with rage, he grabs a glass box and flings it against the floor, the echo of shattering glass filling him with vengeful satisfaction. He throws another, and another, pain from the jagged shards stabbing through his bare feet, until every breakable object has been broken. He collapses against the wall, not caring that he landed in a pile of glass, and watches the blood trickle between his toes, eyes swimming with tears. Slowly, the anger fizzles out, but he remains motionless on the floor, wondering what will become of him.
    Sometime later, he manages to bring himself to his feet and limp back to the sitting room, where he collapses back in his chair. He hardly notices when Sherlock and John come back, until John is staring into his eyes, worried. Vic mutters something, and John sighs and slips away. Vic stays in that position all throughout the night. Everything is a blur; in the morning he’s not sure if he slept, but everything feels the same. John tries to talk to him, make him tea, drag him out into the city but Vic stays put and eventually John gives up. He stays that way for days, not eating, not sleeping, hardly moving at all. Sherlock doesn’t even seem to notice, but that’s not particularly surprising, and John stops trying. The jagged cuts on his feet slowly begin to heal, but the skin stays red and swollen, caked with dried blood that he can’t be bothered to wash off. He is numb to the pain, numb to everything, his thoughts blurring and swirling, always around Marion. Part of him knows he shouldn’t be doing this, that he should pick himself up and carry on, but the other part refuses to budge. He doesn’t cry, he doesn’t scream, he doesn’t feel.
    The days drag on. He doesn’t know how long it’s been since he moved, au done anything. He can’t feel anything, only pain, and emptiness. Sherlock plays the violin as usual, but it seems distant, muffled, a faint echo of a sound that Vic can’t quite hear. Evening comes. He doesn’t even notice that the violin’s stopped until he feels John’s hands on his shoulders, his voice in his ear.
    “Victor.”
Groaning, Vic looks up. John’s face seems worn, forehead creased with worry, faint bags under his dark gray eyes. Vic can only imagine how he must look to John. He mutters something, but John doesn’t leave.
    “I know you’re not fine, Victor. Clearly you’re not. Tell me. What’s wrong?”
Vic slides lower in the chair; he doesn’t want to face his brother right now. He doesn’t want to do anything. But John persists.
    “You haven’t moved since wewe came back from the café four days ago. What happened? Is it...” His face falls, his voice is a low whisper. “It’s Marion, isn’t it?”
    Slowly, Vic nods. “She--she...” He can’t find the words. Without warning, the tears he didn’t even know were forming spill down his cheeks. John’s sitting on the edge of the chair now, his arms wrapped around Vic’s shaking body. Vic dimly feels John’s hot skin pressed against his, as he convulses with sobs. Finally, his eyes dry up, but John doesn’t move. “What happened?”
    Numbly, Vic tells him everything; about the text, about Simon, about his breakdown. John remains silent. When Vic finishes, he looks up at John, at the faint confusion etched in the mild features of his face. Finally, John speaks. “How long have wewe loved her?”
    The surprise hardly registers with Vic; somehow, he knew that John knew. He shrugged. “I..dunno. Was I that obvious?”
    John nods slowly. “Yeah. Somehow I didn’t see it until now.”
    “I knew,” Sherlock pipes up from the corner, where he is absentmindedly rubbing rosin through the bow of his violin. John shoots him a warning look. “I knew from the moment I met you.”
    “Sherlock,” John growls. “Not helping.”
    Vic sighs, and John pulls his arms away. Vic hadn’t even realized that John was still holding him. “When was the last time wewe ate?”
    Another shrug. John stands, and briskly walks to the kitchen. A few dakika later, he returns with a mug of chai and a plate of food. Gratefully, Vic eats, not even aware of what John brought, but glad to take the edge off of his burning hunger. John watches him carefully, and clears away the dishes when he’s finished. Exhaustion washes over him, and John seems to know, because he pulls Vic to his feet. “You need to sleep.” Dimly, Vic allows himself to be led to his bedroom and falls into bed, drifting into a deep, dreamless sleep.

    He awakes feeling much better, and groggily he stumbles into the jikoni where John already has breakfast made. He sits down at the meza, jedwali across from John and eats, all too aware of John’s eyes on him. John heads off to work at the surgery, and Vic is left at nyumbani with Sherlock, who as usual is oblivious to everything.
    As always, life goes on. Vic finds a job at a coffee shop, and although dull, it helps him stay occupied. They go on cases every so often, and Vic starts coming along. When he’s busy, he doesn’t have to think about Marion.
    She texts him one day, asking if he’d go with her to lunch. Despite his mind telling him to stay away, he goes anyway. Simon’s there. Somehow he manages to contain his anger, at least enough to ask her again why she left. She doesn’t have an answer, but she does inform him that she’ll be back once she finishes a few things up. He doesn’t press the matter, but, ignoring the biting disappointment already eating away at him, heads back home.
    His twenty-third birthday comes, and he receives a text a few days later, from her. Happy birthday is all it says. He can’t help but sigh.
    They begin meeting regularly, trying to pretend that nothing happened. But their conversation feels stiff, tense. Simon is always with her, and Marion still insists that he’s not her boyfriend. Vic starts to hate the man a little less, but he still feels uncomfortable. They are civil, at least.
    One day, Vic heads into their usual meeting place, a café, to find Marion alone. Silently, he walks over to her, and she looks up briefly. He slides into the booth.
    “You’re alone today.”
    She nods tersely.
    “Simon finally have enough?” He knows the words are cruel, but he can’t help himself.
    “For the last time, he’s not--”
    “I know, I know. Not your boyfriend.” He rolls his eyes. “Why?”
    His voice is quiet, barely zaidi than a whisper. She doesn’t answer. They order their food, and eat in silence. Something feels different today. He isn’t sure what, but something has changed. Maybe it’s that Marion seems happier now. The dark circles are gone from her eyes, and when she smiles, it feels genuine. With a pang of sadness, he realizes that she’s moved on. The worst part is that she seems happier this way. But he can’t stand to let her go. Finally, he speaks.
    “Have wewe seen Sherlock recently?”
She shakes her head. “I didn’t think it was necessary.”
    “Not necessary?” He’s incredulous. He thought she at least cared about her brother. “Marion, it’s been three years. Don’t wewe think wewe should at least pay him a visit?”
    “He’s doing perfectly fine without me, isn’t he? It’s wewe who my leaving really affected.” There it is, that irritating loftiness. And the worst part is that she’s right. Dead right.
    “Look, Marion, I know you’ve moved on, and wewe never really cared about me in the first place. But..uh...I really missed you.”
    She doesn’t respond to that. He didn’t expect she would. He doesn’t even know why he’s saying this, but then again, a mind like hers, she probably already knows.
    “If...if wewe ever feel like wewe want to come back, like wewe want to, wewe know...see me, just tell me. I’ll let wewe stay.”
    She lets out a sigh. “I don’t know if I’ll be able to come back. There’s a lot I have going on right now, and just...” She trails off, and his moyo sinks.
    Before he can stop himself, the words are tumbling out of his mouth. “It’s just--I really, honestly, want wewe back. I need wewe back. Marion, I...I upendo you.” Shit. Why did he say that? No turning back now. The inayofuata thing he says is, unbelievably, even worse. “Do..do wewe upendo me?”
    He cringes at himself. What’s gotten into him today? He studies her face, but it’s completely blank. He sighs and stands up. “Um, yeah. Alright. That’s-that’s fine. I understand. I’ll just...go now. Sorry.” Disappointment eating away at him, he slides out of the booth and heads for the door, tears already filling his eyes. She sits there, motionless, staring at him. If he stayed for one zaidi second, au listened a little closer as he headed out, he would’ve heard her, a mere whisper immediately Lost to the wind.
    “I do.”
Whoop whoop! Finally finished something! *glares* What do wewe mean it’s taken me 2 months? Lies! Tell me what wewe think??
posted by AislingYJ
hujambo guys! Long time no see, eh?
So I just got back from this uandishi camp and the hot guys there as well as this one couple that I just shipped so fucking hard (not to mention lack of sleep) inspired me to make a boyband! Um...not sure why. But yeah. Here's the guide to this boy band, Stasis. wewe might be getting some drabbles (and smut) on them later hehe

The Members:
Name: Jonathan Lemberg
Age: 20
Height: 5'11"
Skin: pale
Hair: black, curly, messy.
Eyes: dark brown
Accessories: glasses
Instrument: drums, singing

Name: Andrew D'Lacey
Age: 19
Height: 5'9"
Skin: light
Hair: blonde/dirty blonde, straight, kinda...
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added by AislingYJ
'Specially in my two-shot, So Far Away. upendo this song!
video
song
story
sherlock
marion
victor
so far away
mayday parade
the memory
posted by -BelovedRobin
The problem with insomnia is you’re awake. Fully functional and aware to every beat, thump, pump, slick, lick, rick, prick, oh now you’re just getting wordy aren’t you? That’s the thing, wewe are as awake as wewe are asleep, you're neither. uigizaji out on muscle memory as wewe slug through the day, never were wewe fully asleep au fully awake. You’re just there. Like an single slash mark in the world, adding yourself, thinking wewe belong when really, you’re just a number.

A number that no one will ever count on.

No one will rely on.

Lean on.

Carry on.

Just striding on your senseless body and...
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posted by -BelovedRobin
Sunday night, 8 p.m. sharp you're there with your face pressed against Equius' sweaty bitch, kahaba tits as he holds wewe like the baby.

6 months back, Equius Lost both of his testicles and since then he Lost his wife, Aradia, and daughter, Nepeta. wewe only remebered their names because thats all he talks about. Well that and his glory days as a fucking juisi head, wewe mean "competitive body builder." However, unlike other bodybuilders Equius' has tits. Hormone therapy came along with a side of high testosterone and because of that, his body had to kick up the estrogen to maintain balance.

Equius' big...
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added by AislingYJ
The song that inspired my fic So Far Away. I <3 Red!
video
song
story
red
sherlock
so far away
posted by InfinityYJ
BBC Sherlock FanFic with OC, Marion Holmes. Post- Reichenbach. Read on.
If wewe hadn’t known her before, you’d have never noticed. How the once brilliant spark of energy turned to a shadow in her now dull grey eyes. Not many have the ability, nor the right to see the subtle change-- but even someone like Anderson could see what was drastically different.
Sherlock was gone, and Mary’s vision had decided to follow.
Everyone realized fairly quickly how it could be fixed. Therapy sessions, psychiatrists, anyone specializing in this. Mycroft and John started with the lesser known, the ones who...
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added by AislingYJ
A trailer I made a mwezi au so zamani for Chasing Shadows (my new story)! Pretend it says February instead of January, as I made it originally for the Young Justice OC's club and it was ilitumwa on there in January. ...yay.
video
song
trailer
young justice
series
story
chasing shadows
aisling
oc
preview
added by AislingYJ
The song from that song-fic I posted. And just an amazing song in general. Thought we could use some inspiration XD
video
song
inspiration
red
let it burn
songfic
burnt horizon
posted by AislingYJ
A/N: Just a bila mpangilio little depressing songfic I decided to write.
Pairing/fandom: None. This is freestanding (although it could apply to Young Justice. au anything really)
Warnings: Nothing sexual au violent, but it is dark and rather depressing.
Rating: T, just because it's so dark.
Song: link kwa Red

I watch this city burn
These dreams like ashes float away
Your voice I never heard
Only silence...


She struggled to her feet, only to find herself collapsing to the ground once more, toppled kwa the crippling smoke surrounding her. The overpowering smell of smoldering life filled her nostrils, wafting up...
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posted by BloodyMascara_
Rated M. Mature Audiences only.
Contains sexual content-Rape
Violence

Please read responsibly.




The young girl tucked her twilight hair behind her ear, her eyes an array of blues and greens. Her breath was visible in the cold, and unforgiving winter air. Her arms hooked in the standard black backpack straps, holding it in front of her.
"Bur... It's cold out here." She whispered to herself. She heard a click, and cold metal pressed against her ear.
"Don't scream, au this bullet blows your brains, malenʹkaya devochka." The girl froze, breathing heavily, thoughts flashing through her mind. She couldn't...
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He leaned against the birck ukuta that lined down the alley way, the puddles rippled as the raindrops fell from the sky and smacked its way on the ground. The dark kofia pulled over his head created a shadow that covered his upper features, his lips had a slight pout as he listened to the rain around him . “ Early much? “ a voice spoke out, he turned his head and stood up regularly uncrossing his arms and spoke out back “ early? We agreed we would meet here at six “. He sighed “ sorry but the Allpine woods aren’t exactly that close”, he looked at his companion still “ have there...
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posted by GlitterPuff
Okay! So this is literally only a paragraph because I wrote it in study hall and never did anything with it...... sorry!!! Okay and ................ now!



The night sky was dark, no stars shone bright. The only light that glistened on the lake was the moon, shining brightly in the night sky. I walked on the pathway, a few feet away from the lake, looking at the trees as they danced in the soft breeze. It was cold, so cold that it started to snow. I pulled the kofia of my koti, jacket over my head and crossed my arms in front of my chest. The snowflakes fell into the lake and cause ripples to appear. As the ripples increased, the reflection of the moon look disoriented in the lake.