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Fandoms: Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett, The Sandman (Comics), The Sandman (TV 2022)
28 Feb 2024
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“Yeah?” He said, trying his best to sound like he didn't give a single damn about whatever Anathema had to say. Anathema, who was very used to this by now, and swiftly climbing the ranks of living people well-equipped to both see through and handle Anthony J Crowley, did not bother mincing her words.
“Adam's missing. Last seen yesterday evening, as best we can tell. His friends are looking for him the human way and running interference with the university and his parents, in case it's something… esoteric. Also, I have a new prophecy from Agnes that I think is about him, but I haven't quite managed to figure it out just yet. I thought you might know something.”
Crowley's blood ran cold. Well. Colder.
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share with silence of the trees by Emamel
Fandoms: The Sandman (TV 2022), The Sandman (Comics)
27 Apr 2023
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Perhaps it should not matter that this human who has told him their dreams, who has trusted him – not the Dreamlord or the King of Nightmares, not the Prince of Stories or the Oneiromancer, but the husband of their teacher – with the gift of their hopes, does not recognise him as anything other than Dream of the Endless. Perhaps, perhaps, perhaps.
“We have met,” Morpheus says, and he calls upon the curve of his husband’s cheek, the breadth of his laugh, the tenderness of his touch, to lend him a human softness. “In the waking world.”
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You have seven new messages. First message received today at ten thirty two AM.
“Hey Robbie, I need a car and you’re the only git in London I know stupid enough to have one, I’ll get it back to you by tomorrow. Got a job down in Sussex, if I die you’ll probably have to get it back from the police or something. Don’t call me back, I’ll be working. Or driving. Doesn’t matter, I won’t pick up. See you.”
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the tone of afternoon light by Emamel
Fandoms: The Sandman (TV 2022), The Sandman (Comics)
14 Nov 2022
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And now here he is, finishing up a pint in a final little pocket of reality before the Universe finally collapses. There’s probably a joke to be found there somewhere. Death and a man who can’t die walk into a pub.
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when you lay me down you'll only bury bones by onespaceace (Emamel)
Fandoms: The Mandalorian (TV), Star Wars - All Media Types
17 Sep 2021
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A wave of grief crashes over him for a man he's never met - will never meet - even as he tries to quash the guilt that immediately chases it. He'd come as fast as he could, he tells himself. There was nothing he could have done to help the Mandalorian; all that's left, all he can do, is finish what he'd started and get the child back.
Or - Din remembers his jetpack on Tython (though it might have been better if he hadn't) and Luke finds himself joining forces with an old enemy to save the child that's been calling to him.
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just a pinch of salt (in the wound, you'll be fine) by onespaceace (Emamel) for StarsInMyDamnEyes
Fandoms: The Mandalorian (TV)
30 Aug 2021
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Boba doesn’t know what he’s expecting to see when he rounds the corner - none of his morning staff really cook, and there’s no way Fennec’s awake this early when she’s not on a job - but it isn’t the beroya, staring down into a pot that Boba’s fairly certain he’s never seen before.
“Malnova better not be in there. She still owes me,” he says eventually, a little disappointed when the Mandalorian doesn't even tense at the sound of his voice. Then again, with his helmet on he has the advantage of an audial turned up high, and thermal imaging.
Sneaking up on a Mando is hard, Boba knows. Sneaking up on a beroya is a good way to get killed.
This one doesn't pull a blaster on him. He doesn't even bother to turn when he acknowledges Boba's presence with the slightest tilt of his head.
"She isn't," he says, and then blows out a hard breath that Boba thinks may be a laugh, garbled through the vocoder. "Not enough fat. She'd be too tough for tiingilar."
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economics in action (or something) by Emamel
Fandoms: Wiedźmin | The Witcher - All Media Types
25 Dec 2020
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"Far be it for me to tell you how to live your life, but if you aim up a bit, you can probably get his carotid," he said, which maybe wasn't any better, but did at least make her glance away from him, back at the weakly twitching heap of flesh beneath her. "Assuming you're aiming to kill him, I mean. That is what you're trying for, right? Else, shit, you've got a situation here."
Lambert meets Renfri, and it goes about as well as can be expected.
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as much in five minutes as in five years by Emamel
Fandoms: Wiedźmin | The Witcher - All Media Types
13 Dec 2020
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Oxenfurt knows every person that crosses its borders - knows them as well as they know themselves, or better perhaps. The shape of the soul is no stranger to it, and it has hundreds of years of practice in reading them all. This boy who plays at being a man is no different, and it knows as soon as he sets foot on the cobbled streets, his steps light and his eyes full of the wonder of a child that has never before seen the city, that he may be happy here, but he will never settle.
Maybe he will find a home, a permanent place where he can grow roots as his joints seize with age and his eyes lose their shine to be replaced with a reumy film, but Oxenfurt knows that it won’t be here, and it won’t be yet. His soul is in the shape of a wanderer, and he turns his face to the sky, to the buildings, to the next street. He won’t be content with his lot here, the city knows. For now, though, he is still young, and flush with the success of the Academy for which Oxenfurt is these days known.
Or
Jaskier's early years, as seen by the city of Oxenfurt -
dig the dust enclosed here by Emamel
Fandoms: Wiedźmin | The Witcher - All Media Types, The Witcher (TV)
02 Dec 2020
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“I can assure you that this isn’t what it looks like, my good man,” he calls, pointedly ignoring the cheap casket at his feet which proves that this very much is exactly what it looks like. Perhaps he can argue that he’s a gravedigger - it seems like the sort of thing that really ought to be done at night, if you ask him. Which, of course, the man behind him does not.
“Looks like you’re digging up a grave.”
There aren’t many arguments Jaskier can make to refute that, as digging up a grave is precisely what he’s doing; but that certainly doesn’t mean he isn’t going to give it a damn good go.
“Well you see, you’re already working from a faulty supposition; if you look closer you’ll see that I’m merely… Merely…”
The words trail off and stick in his throat as he turns. Even if the white hair and slit-pupiled eyes left him in any doubt of the man’s identity, the medallion he can just about make out on his chest would be enough to confirm it.
He isn’t a man at all - he’s a witcher, which means there’s a good chance that Jaskier is very, very dead. More dead, perhaps, than the poor sod in the casket at his feet. At least she’s all in one piece.
Probably.
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He looked up, and a man stood before him. Geralt hadn't heard him approach. That was the first sign there was something odd.
The second was the faint but still noxious smell of poison that clung to his fingers, just strong enough to make out over the spiced perfume he wore. And under all of that was a richer smell, as familiar as Geralt's own scent, because it was Geralt's own. Or a witcher's, at least.
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As the townspeople shrank back, as they made signs to ward off evil and pulled children and daemons back out of the way, Jaskier had laughed, too loud and forced, and waltzed right into Geralt's space without a moment's hesitation. He had ignored the viscera clumping his hair, the black veins streaking from his eyes, the stench of sweat and death that followed him, and had cupped Geralt's face in his hands. Silent and quivering, Geralt had let Jaskier tilt his head this way and that, had let him run a careful thumb through the blood along his hairline, and had even managed to grunt in the negative when asked if any of the blood was his. Geralt had been pliable, easy to maneuver away from fearful, suspicious stares.
Like this, Geralt looked poised to bolt and he didn't look like he would much care what was in his way.
Series
- Part 4 of nothing is real 'til it's gone
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the aftermath will ring with songs you've sung by Emamel
Fandoms: Wiedźmin | The Witcher - All Media Types
13 Jul 2020
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Besnik doesn't truly understand the importance of the mission they've been given. Politics isn't something that's ever interested him, and he has only the faintest notion of why it's so important that the witcher girl that follows the Beast like a shadow is brought home with them to Nilfgaard - but then, it isn't his place to understand.
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When a group of Nilgaardian soldiers fail to capture the witcher princess, they come to realise that what they've got instead could be a valuable tool for negotiation.
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Yennefer's portal didn't take her to Aretuza, but to a very different tower indeed.
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ask me tomorrow by Emamel
Fandoms: Wiedźmin | The Witcher - All Media Types, The Witcher (TV)
22 Jun 2020
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"Why -" he gestures expansively towards Jaskier, his lute, the forest around them, his swords now strapped to Roach "- are you doing this?"
A bard seeking fortune wouldn't watch Geralt across the fire with eyes half-full of tears that he didn't bother to blink away. An artist looking for a muse wouldn't press close, desperately close, against Geralt's side until he finally gave in and turned his head. A young man after a quick fuck wouldn't grip Geralt to him hard enough to bruise even a witcher.
The way Jaskier looks at Geralt makes him think he should know the answer already, but he doesn't, he doesn't.
"Because I know you," he says at last. "Because I have known you. Because I will know you. Isn't that enough?"
(One day, Geralt will understand that it was the closest thing Jaskier will ever have to a goodbye, and it's enough, it's enough.)
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“I don’t suppose you happen to know where we are? Or where my phone is? Or my friends? Or - ha, this is embarrassing, how I actually got here, do you?”
The child blinked, and glanced at something behind Julian. He didn’t turn to look.
“Roach liked you,” she said, which explained precisely nothing and did, in fact, leave Julian with far more questions than he started the day with.
“I - see,” he said, rather than voicing any of them.
“Usually she just drowns people,” she continued, apparently oblivious to the way the blood drained from Julian's face.
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"As you have probably heard, Princess Pavetta of Cintra's daemon has settled -"
"I hadn't."
"- and so by the customs of the land, Queen Calanthe has announced her daughter's eligibility -"
"Thought she'd be a bit young for you."
"- which means there will be the very grandest of feasts, and hang on, sorry, what was that?"
“I hope you aren’t planning to announce your intentions. How old is the princess? Seventeen?” Geralt paused, distracted, and furrowed his brow for a moment. “What age do daemons usually settle, again?”
Series
- Part 3 of nothing is real 'til it's gone
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It was easy to forget, sometimes, that Jaskier had seen barely a fraction of the same world as Geralt. For all of his learning, for all of his stories and songs, for every book he’d memorised, he had barely left his corner of the continent before they’d met. And travel alone was not the same as travel with a witcher - the dangers came from different places, places that Jaskier hadn’t yet learnt to be vigilant of.
Series
- Part 2 of nothing is real 'til it's gone
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There were other rumours, older and more persistent, that Jaskier hadn't been able to make a dent in.
Witchers don't have souls. Witchers are no better than beasts. How could they be civilised, intelligent, compassionate, human, when they don't even have daemons.
What was Jaskier supposed to do about that?
Series
- Part 1 of nothing is real 'til it's gone
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tried living in the moment by Emamel
Fandoms: IT - Stephen King, IT (Movies - Muschietti)
20 Jan 2020
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In which Richie moves out, drops out, freaks out, comes out, makes out, freaks out (again), goes out, and freaks out some more; not necessarily in that order.
Stan gets dragged along for more of the ride than is probably reasonable to ask of a best friend.
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we're starting at the end by Emamel
Fandoms: IT - Stephen King, IT (Movies - Muschietti)
12 Dec 2019
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Nobody who dies in Derry ever really dies.
Richie dies on a bright August afternoon in the depths of Derry's sewer system; the next day, he knocks on Eddie's door.
And that's just the beginning.