meet the cast of "lies of attrition"
everything's going so well in my and @ladyofthenoodle 's post-s5 fic! look how fine it's going! absolutely nothing can or will go wrong!
seen from United States

seen from United States
seen from China
seen from United States
seen from United States
seen from China
seen from Türkiye
seen from Italy
seen from United States

seen from Türkiye
seen from Italy
seen from China

seen from Italy
seen from United States

seen from Australia

seen from United States
seen from Malaysia

seen from Malaysia
seen from United Kingdom
seen from China
meet the cast of "lies of attrition"
everything's going so well in my and @ladyofthenoodle 's post-s5 fic! look how fine it's going! absolutely nothing can or will go wrong!
An Archive of Our Own, a project of the Organization for Transformative Works
It felt eerily familiar, kneeling ghost-like beneath a vermillion sky. Doom crept though Antichat's chest, as thick as the acrid smoke scorching his lungs. He couldn't move, couldn't breathe. There was a weight in his arms—an inexplicable solace. And yet… Suddenly it didn’t weigh as much as it should. No. His eyes flicked downwards. No, no, no, no— All he held was a pile of ashes, moulded into the shape of a girl.
Some nightmares refuse to fade.
***
[Read the full fic below the cut or on Ao3!! CW: panic attacks, dissociation, depression]
An Archive of Our Own, a project of the Organization for Transformative Works
Chapters: 1/9 Fandom: The Expanse (TV) Rating: Explicit Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings Relationships: Chrisjen Avasarala/Bobbie Draper Characters: Chrisjen Avasarala, Bobbie Draper, Amos Burton, Anna Volovodov, Crew of the Rocinante (The Expanse), OCs Additional Tags: PW(ith)P, Meditations on Grief, Three-Part Elegy, Established Situationship, Characters We Love, And the Imperfect Ways They Cope, (Artificial) Gravity, Angst with an Uplifting Ending Series: Part 6 of When you go low, I fly higher Summary:
The days—and nights—that follow the attack on Earth.
Will he leave? Never. Will she? He doubts it. Even if he were the ultimate disappointment, his Marinette is too stubborn to admit defeat. What is held between them might be broken beyond repair though. Even more than losing her, the thought of dragging her unhappily through a half-life tears his heart in two.
Happy Birthday Dear Adrien...
Summary:
Today’s Adrien’s birthday! Everything was going to be absolutely wonderful… right?
From my birthday to yours - happy (belated) birthday @izanogi!!!
Continue reading at:
AO3
An Archive of Our Own, a project of the Organization for Transformative Works
Musings about what it means to be finite, but to also have to make choices that effect things beyond your limited comprehension. From the perspective of a semi-omniscient, immortal being who seeks to understand you regardless.
Chapter 4 of Antithesis is out! Seconds before I have to be at work! Please read it, it gives me joy :)
Never Apart by love4books
The family has settled in comfortably at Alexandria. But Daryl remains shrouded in grief that pulls him back to where he lost his hope: Grady Memorial. There he finds an abandoned ward. The stains of the one he lost long rubbed away. But in its place he comes across a letter, addressed in clear handwriting, reading: Daryl.
It wasn’t difficult to determine that the car in front of him was the same one where he made the most fatal mistake in his life. It took him days of non-stop walking, avoiding walkers, and sneaking by groups of nomads to finally come face to face with just one of the many images that have stayed with him like a curse, condemning him for his actions against Beth.
Yet, with all the trekking he endured and prior determination to face the facts, his hand remains frozen on the latch to open the trunk, unable to reach the finish line. He’s out in the open, in broad daylight, back exposed, but he doesn’t move or try to protect his vulnerable blind spot. He can only look down at his shaking hand and feel the tremor in his knees, knowing once he opens the trunk, he’ll either have the peace he needs to move on or will fall further into a pit of despair for the girl he lost.
He continues to stare down at the trunk, wishing to open it like he would rip off a band-aid. Swiftly to avoid too much pain. But his fingers are slicked with sweat which scuffles with the latch, and as the click sounds indicating it’s opened, his hand stills once more in panic. Daryl’s palm keeps it from flying open any more than it already has. He takes this moment to breathe in through his nose, trying to detect any smell, but none comes. He ignores the thudding of his heart that beats in his ears to listen for any sign of life, and yet again is greeted by nothing. Curiosity fueling into courage, Daryl flips open the lid to the trunk.
He’s not sure how long he stands there before he slams the lid with a force that has it springing back up. He does it again and again, his biceps flexing with each push, anger fueling his muscles into action. The latch of the already beaten-up car now broken from his brute strength.
the reality slaps him in the face and becomes too much for him to bear. The weight of the truth having him slink down onto his knees, chest heaving, and forehead leaning on the bumper.
She’s gone. Gone.
Beth… Where are you?
Ooh and also from the sanity list. May 1 for jon, daisy, and complicated friendship?
1. He and I are closer than friends. We are enemies linked together. The same sin binds us. (Jon & Daisy)
With slow, measured movements, Jon stepped into the Secure area of Artifact Storage. It wasn’t exactly the most appropriate place, but there was nowhere else in the Institute to hold someone, apart from the tunnels, and they’d all agreed that would be a bad idea.
From the corner, Daisy watched him, not moving a muscle but following him with her eyes. Jon did his best not to telegraph how nervous he was, and was pretty sure he was failing miserably. They were alone, he’d made sure of that. She deserved that respect.
The door closed behind him, and he looked at her through the steel bars and safety glass. “How are you feeling?”
Daisy’s right shoulder twitched. It might have been a shrug, or just a random muscle spasming from the tension. “I can’t stop hearing it,” she whispered. “The-the blood. I keep trying to listen for the quiet, but all I can hear, all I can smell…”
“I know. It’s hard, being… surrounded. And having to be on your best behavior all the time.”
“Basira, she’s… she still doesn’t get it.” Hard, haunted eyes, the pale brown of sun-dried grass, met his own. “You do.”
“I do.” Jon lowered himself to the cold tiled floor. “I wish I didn’t, but… yeah. I know it. Even when the people you love most aren’t afraid of you, they’re still afraid of what you might do.”
“You’re afraid of me.”
The implication being that he also loved her, as much as Basira did. And maybe he did. He’d gone into the Buried to bring her out, and used himself as bait to lure her into the open, both in the domains and now that the world was safe and sane again, and helped to loosen the Hunt’s grip on her enough for her to know her own mind again. Of course she would assume that he cared.
And he did. That was the damnable thing.
“It’s… different, for us. You and Basira, you’re… you’re friends. Partners. You and me, we’re… closer than friends. Closer than enemies, even. We’ve got the same kind of blood on our hands.”
A little of the hardness faded from Daisy eyes and posture, and she slumped against the walls of her cage. “Maybe that’s why I can’t ever stop hearing it. It’s not out there… it’s in here with me. I can’t outrun it, Jon.”
“Maybe not.” The scar on his throat throbbed. “But at least you’re not running alone.”