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This Is the Way the World Ends, Part 8

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May. 16th, 2004 | 09:23 pm
mood: sadsad
music: Counting Crows, "Films About Ghosts"
posted by: semaphore27 in monaboyd

Author: Semaphore
Pairing: Billy/Dom
Rating: PG-13 Language, for now. Eventually more weird, less angsty.
Summary: It's the end of the world as we know it and no one feels fine. The world of Lotrips mingles with Stephen King’s The Stand. In which Elijah and Sean return from town, and Billy receives a visit.
Feedback: longed for and appreciated. A zillion thanks to all who've commented so far! I shower you with hugs and rose petals! Unless that's too scary. *g*
Disclaimers: This is entirely fictional. No disrespect intended. The people involved belong to themselves. The Stand was written by Stephen King. As I should have said long before, the title, and the piece of "The Hollow Men" quoted here come from T.S. Eliot. The "eyes as big as teacups" fairy story is "The Tinder Box" by Hans Christian Andersen.
Previous chapters and other writings can be found at: Caraidean

“…the persistent sound in the row behind him signaled the end to all that: there would be no more sequels, and in a very short time, there would be no more movies at all.
In the row behind Larry, a man was coughing.”
- Stephen King, The Stand



Dom is still dreaming, more vocally than ever, when Billy hears the others return. He looks so pale now, so fragile and worn, Billy half imagines he can see through to his bones. Or maybe that’s not imagination at all. He runs a fingertip along the sharp edge of Dom’s cheekbone. His skin is like wax and paper.

About ten minutes previously, Billy had removed the blue-and-white casserole dish Sean had placed in the oven. Its contents looked golden and bubbly, and Billy assumed it was finished, though he wasn’t certain, exactly. He assumed, too, that whatever Sean had made was the sort of thing Americans ate for comfort, the sort of thing Sean and Elijah’s mums might have prepared for them, when they were younger, on cold winter days.

Even as Billy is now, the dish smells appetizing, with the soft sweetness of pasta, the warm, sharp scent of toasted cheese. He’s famished, starving really, but the realization of his own hunger shames him.

How can he be hungry when, so far as he can tell, today’s the day he’ll lose his Dommie?

Billy’s glad, he supposes, that Elijah and Sean can still seek some sort of comfort in real things, in food, in one another's company. It should give him hope, he realizes.

If he hadn’t needed to mind Dom, he himself would have raided the local Safeway (or the American equivalent of an off-license downtown) for the best bottles of single malt whiskey Napa has to offer, then drunk from them until he was blind. Perhaps he can defer that for tomorrow. It might help him to stumble through another day.

“No. No. No!” Dom cries in his sleep, his tones heartbroken, enough to make Billy instantly return to his side.

“It’s all right, m’ Dommie,” he says, brushing the hair back from Dom’s brow. It may be his imagination, but Dom feels slightly cooler, he thinks.

“Honey, we’re home,” Elijah shouts from the vicinity of the front door.

Billy answers in softer tones, “Lij, Sean, in here.”

“Nebraska,” Dom breathes. “Hemingford Home. Tell Billy.”

“I’m here, Dommie,” Billy says. “I’ve heard you, love.”

Dom’s eyes open suddenly, as aware as they’ve been in three days, and almost clear. “Hemingford Home,” he says again, careful to enunciate the words. “In Polk County, Nebraska. Mother Abigail says you’re refusing to hear.”

Billy gives him a look, one brow raised.

“She says if I die, you’ll go south instead. You can’t go south, Bills. Not to Las Vegas. He’s there.”

“Who’s there, love?” Bill asks, raising Dom’s head a little more, holding the cup for him, so that Dom can drink. He gulps the water thirstily, then groans.

“Jesus, Bill, I’m sick.”

“Did you need to…?”

“Nah.” Dom lays his head back, swallowing heavily. “Be okay, Bills. Only, stay in here, won’t you?” He swallows again, illness in his eyes. “You can’t go south because you’re sad for me. You’re a good person, Billy, and you won’t like what he’d make of you, really. Believe me you wouldn’t, even if it all reminds you of me.”

“What would remind me, Dommie?”

“The lights. The flash. The noise.” A smile flickers over Dom’s pale mouth. “That’s part of what you like in me, isn’t it? That I’m bright and flashy and noisy?”

“I think you’re an idiot,” Billy says. He feels like weeping.

Dom smiles again. “And you like that. Admit it. You’ve never met anyone like me.”

“Conceited prat.”

“Dearest Billy.” Dom’s tone, even in his current, raw voice, is teasing yet at the same moment, unbelievably tender. “Dearest, best-beloved Billy.”

“You’re delirious,” Billy tells him. “Since when do you, of all people, talk that way?”

“Since always,” Dom answers. His hot fingers brush Billy’s wrist. “Love, haven’t you heard me?”

Billy can’t bear to look into his eyes, but he does so anyway, and the expression in Dom’s face is wise and loving. For as long as Dom’s known him, it tells Billy, he’s seen everything, every word, every gesture, every moment of pulling away that truly meant, I love you so much it frightens me. It tells him Dom was never so thoughtless, after all.

“Stay with me?” Dom asks then, again, softly.

“Of course I will, Dommie.”

“Sean and Lij will need you, Bills. After.”

Billy shrugs.

“They do. You just don’t see. As clever as you are, Bills, you never see.” Dom shifts a little, pain tightening his features. “You have to promise me. You have to, Bill. He’ll hurt you terribly. I couldn’t bear for you to be hurt that way.”

“I don’t know who you’re talking about, Dommie.”

“’The Walking Dude,’ Lij would say. Lijah’s seen him, I think, he just won’t tell you. He thinks the dreams mean he’s going insane. He’s afraid of that, Elijah.” Dom’s eyes narrow, silvery like mirrors beneath the lids, the way they’d get sometimes, when he’s at his most emotional, either happy or grieving. “The Smiling Man. Randall Flagg. The crow we saw on the first day, flying.” Dom draws in a shuddering breath, coughs, swallows, breathes, fighting for air. “Where I am, love, I see so much these days.”

He reaches for Billy’s hand again, his eyes slipping shut altogether.

“I dreamed everyone was dead, Bill. Horrible dream,” he says at last. “I’m trying very hard for you, Billy, only my body won’t help me.”

“Love…” Billy begins, but just then Elijah appears in the doorway.

“Hey, Dom, Bill,” he says, oblivious to what he’s walked into. “Guess what? In town, no one shot at me. Nice change, huh?” He dangles a transparent packet from one hand—it’s the sort of packet one sees in hospitals, connected to a drip. “We brought you a prezzie. Went all the way in to Santa Rosa. Raided the hospital. I’m beginning to feel like the Artful Dodger, really.” He tosses the drip packet onto the bed. “Sean’s bringing in the works, I think.”

“You don’t know how to use that,” Billy tells him, bitterly. What would Dom have said next, he wonders, if he hadn’t been interrupted? And though part of him wants to dismiss the words as the ravings of a dying man, some other part inside him speaks to the contrary.

Elijah shoots him a look. “Bill, what’s the alternative? We picked up some medical books today. With pictures, y’know? I think it’ll be okay.”

“And if it’s not?” Billy demands, suddenly furious. “Do you even know what’s in that thing? Are you really willing to take the chance?”

“Sodium, sucrose and good old H2O, Billy. Jesus, man, chill.”

Billy’s fists clench. He fights to control his own breathing, but doesn’t succeed. Distantly, he hears Dom call his name.

“Billy. Billy. Bills, listen to me.”

“Good intentions can kill as well as bad,” Billy says, flatly.

“Lij, give us a little longer, won’t you?” Dom asks.

For a moment, Elijah appears uncertain, then he nods, too used to following Dom’s lead to put up much of an argument. “See ya in a minute, okay? No more?” He backs out into the corridor and away, calling something to Sean Billy can’t hear clearly.

“Bills,” Dom murmurs, regarding Billy with weary eyes. “I know what is it you’re scared of, love.” He pats the mattress feebly. “Sit next to me?”

Billy sits, too tired, suddenly, to struggle, even with Dom as weak as he is

“So, I know what’s my Billy’s afraid of,” Dom tells him gently. “Losing me.”

Billy nods.

“Can’t eat yet,” Dom tells him bluntly. “Can’t drink enough to stay alive.” His palm presses down on Billy’s arm. “Feel that? ‘s dry. Know what that means, Billy?”

Billy nods again. He does, really—Dom’s lost fluids alarmingly. He just can’t bear to hope anymore. In his mind, he’s already said goodbye to his Dommie.

“I need what Lijah’s brought me, Bills. If I have to, I’ll put it in myself. My mum showed me once, how to do it.” He shifts a little more, and a muscle jumps in his jaw. “Don’t want t’ die, Bills. Don’t wan’ leave y’ here.”

Second by second, Billy can feel him slipping away, fighting against the current, but slipping away, as if he’s given all he has left to achieve these few moments of lucidity. His hand clutches onto Billy’s, and he’s coughing again, violently, with that tearing sound they heard from Christine. Shaking, Billy feels Dom’s throat—his neck hasn’t swollen, not yet, but there are patches that look faintly bruised. When Billy lifts him up, he spews, suddenly, a thick, dark substance, like some sort of foul glue, over Billy’s hand.

“Elijah! Sean!” Billy screams. “In here, in here! God, please.”

They come running, footsteps heavy on the hardwood floors. After one look, Sean grabs the basin and an armload of towels. “Lij, get the vaporizer we picked up today. Let’s get that going right away. Billy, move behind him, hold him up, will you, please?” He’s wiping the mess off Billy’s skin, shoving the basin into Dom’s lap, while Dom coughs and coughs, his now-fragile body spasming. “

It seems hours before he’s still again, and then his head lolls upon Billy’s shoulder weakly, his breath harsh in Billy’s ear, as the newly-connected vaporizer hisses out its steam, filling the already warm air with an almost unbearable humidity. Carefully, Sean cleans the back of Dom’s hand with iodine, and referring to the medical textbooks he and Elijah have appropriated, slides the needle into one of Dom’s large veins quite deftly. Lij stands on the mattress to screw a cup-hook into the ceiling. Once hung there, the transparent bag of fluids sways softly, casting fitful shadows across their faces, across the pale, crumpled surface of the sweat-soaked sheets.

“There,” Sean says quietly, and connects an oxygen tank to tubing and a canula, adjusting the breathing apparatus around Dom’s nose and ears with a father’s touch, gently and carefully. “Are you comfortable, Dommie?”

Dom doesn’t answer, of course, but he seems not to be struggling for air quite so violently. Whether it’s because of the oxygen, or because he’s grown too weak, really, to continue the fight, Billy honestly couldn’t say.

“Orli,” Dom murmurs, barely audible, when some time has passed after. “Oh, Orli, you daft bastard, what are you thinking?”

Then, a little later, “Billy, hold me.”

“I am, love,” Billy tells him, tightening his arms a little round Dom’s chest. He’s terribly afraid of hurting him, of holding him too tightly.

Dom’s eyes have opened to silver-blue slits. He’s smiling. “You’ll be all right, Sean. I think you’ll even be happy. Wanted you to know, that’s what I’ve seen. When you meet her, you’ll know. You’ve both lost something, too much it seems, but you’re capable of healing.” His gaze moves to Elijah, blindly, the silver-blue shifting. His left hand reaches, wrapping round Elijah’s trembling fingers. “Doodle, love, it’s okay to be dreaming. Doesn’t mean anything. Or, it does, but not what you’re thinking. Go on to Nebraska, you’ll be fine. Watch over my Billy, won’t you?”

“Sblomie, man,” Elijah quavers, “You know that’s your job. Billy’s fucked if you leave it up to me.”

Dom laughs, a small, rough sound. “But you’ll have to sometimes, when I can’t see. Understand, Monkey?”

“Not even slightly, Dom,” Lij tells him. “Sure you’re not deranged?” He pauses. “That’s a name only Hannah called me.”

“She loves you, Monkey. That’s what she says. ‘Tell my Monkey not to act so crazy. Tell him he’s lots stronger than he’s willing to believe.’”

“Dommie, Hannah’s dead,” Elijah says, his eyes filling.

Dom laughs again. “That’s what she said you’d say. She says we have the hard part, but we’ll make it okay. Love ya, Hannie.”

Dom’s eyes open all the way then, round silver mirrors. His pupils have vanished entirely. “They have to go away now, though there’s so much more they want to explain. They’re all a little confused, it happened so suddenly.” His mouth flickers into a faded version of Dommie-joy, “Hand-in-hand with Allie.”

“Who is?” Sean asks suddenly, roughly, a single tear twisting down his flushed cheek.

“She said you’d ask that, Sean, but that you know, really. Just like always.” Dom leans his cheek against Billy’s. “Ow, stubbly! So tired, Billy. Okay if I sleep a bit now? Until we get there, maybe?”

“Sleep all you need, love,” Billy says. He wonders where Dom thinks they’re traveling.

“Mmm. My thoughtful Billy. So warm against me.” His hand, the one without the drip attached, moves to Billy’s leg, squeezing lightly on his knee then, slowly, loosening. “My Billy.”

“They asked me what I’d give up,” Dom breathes, sometime later. “It’s okay. It’s okay. Don’t worry. Bills, don’t worry.”

In another moment more, he’s sleeping deeply, quietly.

“Well, that was strange,” Elijah whispers. “What do you think it means?”

“That he was delirious,” Sean says, shrugging. “He was dreaming.” But tears flow freely down his cheeks now, soaking into his collar, and Elijah wraps his arms around Sean’s shoulders, holding him tightly, his face buried against Sean's backbone.

When Elijah glances up, his eyes meet Billy’s, still bright, but not with madness, that Billy can see. “There are more things in heaven and earth,” he quotes.

Billy thinks, Than are dreamt of in my philosophy. He holds Dom a little nearer, his hand over his lover's heart, listening to his breathing, willing the struggling heart to keep up its beating, his own breath nearly stopping when it breaks rhythm. The four of them cluster together, shoulders and knees and hips touching.

Later, Elijah goes to fetch food, the blue-and-white dish of macaroni still warm when he sets it on one corner of the bed. They drink tinned tomato juice in lieu of vegetables and clear the dish of every last noodle, Elijah even prising off the crisp almost-burnt bits that cling around the rim. Billy didn’t think he could eat, but he’s never consumed anything that’s tasted so delicious.

Sean checks the generator for fuel after, making sure it’s securely fastened inside the cage that contains it, as if it might be meddled with by passing evildoers. He checks the locks on the windows and doors, props a ladderback chair beneath the knob of the bedroom door, a wedge beneath the threshold—and Billy knows he’s right to be cautious, because society and the rules they’ve lived by all their lives have now entirely crumbled. Anything could happen now. For all they know, the world they live in could be brimming with devils and angels.

Together they change the bedsheets, and Elijah removes the props from the door to bring in the telly, rolling it on its cart to the foot of the bed, to be easily viewed from where they’re lying. Sean replaces chair and wedge, wiggling the props for several moments to check their security. Quietly, they undress, and in pants and vests curl up together, Dom in Billy’s arms, Elijah’s shoulder touching his shoulder, Elijah’s leg hooked round Sean’s, toes caressing toes, so that Billy thinks, We’ll always, always, be Hobbits, won’t we? Or just as long as there are two of us together, we will be.

As Elijah, clicker in hand, flips the channels from snow to black and white spinning dots to snow again, he wonders, What could there possibly be left in Las Vegas? How could anyone fear a bloke called, variously, ‘The Walking Dude’ or ‘The Smiling Man.’ How could that be threatening?

He falls asleep to the beat of Dom’s heart against his hand, and wakes to the television screen speaking.

“Billy!” the television says to him. “Yes, you, mate. I’m talking to you, Wee Billy!”

Billy grimaces. It’s not a nickname he relishes, particularly. Even his biography and his CV lie about his height, listing it as 5 feet 7 inches, 1.70 metres, which is, in fact Dom’s height. Like Elijah, Billy’s lucky if he clears 5 feet 5 on a good day. There’s only been so much bullying a small boy can escape in life by being quick and lively, and he never grew up in the best of neighborhoods.

“You know,” says the smiling man on the television screen, “A little bird—a crow, maybe?—told me you haven’t liked to listen to the old lady. Why is that, Wee Billy?”

Billy says nothing. This is a bad dream. A nightmare. And, as such, not worth his notice. There’s enough bad happening in the world that he needn’t pay much heed to his nighttime fancies.

“Oh, a tough guy, is he?” laughs the smiling man. “Doesn’t want to believe in me! But I’ll tell you something Bill, Bills, Billy, you’re not innocent little Pippin, are you? You smile almost as much as I do, but inside, God--excuse my French, there—you’re angry. You’re an angry wee man, and when your pretty boy dies, you’re… Well, that won’t be pretty, Bills, because you’re gonna go batshit crazy. You like to pretend that’s not inside you, but it’s there, it’s really there, isn’t it? Because you really are a tough guy, aren’t you? You’re capable of anything, and the more I ask of you, the more you’ll do for me. It’s delightful, really.”

Billy’s jaw drops. All of a sudden, he’s no longer watching telly. He’s standing on a pavement, and there are bright lights all around, lights in all the colours of the rainbow, flashing randomly. The man’s standing before him, in worn-down Western boots, faded jeans, a denim jacket adorned with badges. Billy sees a yellow smiling face on one breast of the jacket; he can’t make out the badge on the other. The air around him smells of spicy with sage, sourly of cactus, bright with electricity. A hot wind off the desert steals the moisture from his skin. His mouth is dry, tongue sticking to his gums.

“It’s not so bad really, is it, Billy? Dom learned that lesson a long time ago—if you keep in motion, if you keep busy, you don’t go crazy. At least not the kind of crazy that involves gas ovens or razor blades. I can keep you very, very busy. And it’s not so awful, you know. You can get used to anything. Your friend Orlando’s coming here to me, poor baby. Would you like me to give you Orlando as a reward for services rendered? He’s very, very pretty, isn’t he? Not as bright as your Dom, or he would have high-tailed it in the opposite direction, but beggars can’t be choosers, can they?”

Billy can’t answer anything. He’s speechless. And worse than that, he’s tempted. Not by Orlando (the thought of that’s ridiculous) but by the rest, the noise and the motion, an outlet for his fury. He doesn’t really believe he’s capable of the acts the smiling man describes to him, but still…

A voice tears through his head. “Fuck off from him! Fuck off from my Bill, you bloody wanker!”

It’s Dom’s voice, Billy realizes. It’s Dom’s emaciated body, knocking him over—not onto the pavement, but over the bed’s footboard, Dom’s shoulder connecting with the television screen in a rugby tackle. There’s a shower of sparks, a sizzle of electricity, glass and plastic and plaster flying everywhere. There’s fire bursting up from the soft cotton throw-rug in a vaguely man-shaped pillar. Arms split off from the central trunk, reaching, reaching, closing round Dom’s throat…

And then, unexpectedly, a loud, explosive hiss and a spray of white foam, drifting in a snowy cloud down over everything.

There’s Sean in his underwear, seeming to fill the doorway, the chair kicked aside. There’s Sean, Mr. Safety, wielding the bright red fire extinguisher Billy remembers, vaguely, seeing in the kitchen.

There’s Elijah on his hands and knees on the bed with his eyes as big as teacups, like that dog’s in the fairy story, asking in his daft American voice, “I saw that—did you see that? Sean? Billy? Fucking insane man! Was I hallucinating?”

“No, Elijah,” Billy tells him. “I don’t think you were, really.” The world seems to be hanging on one hinge, swinging crazily. Billy’s not sure whether he needs more to laugh or vomit.

Dom solves that for him. He’s flat on his back on the scorched bedroom floor, laughing like a madman. Billy can’t help but join him.

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Comments {50}

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(no subject)

from: yanks02
date: May. 16th, 2004 10:13 pm (UTC)
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OKay whoa. I've never read The Stand, but now I feel as if I must. Another great chapter!

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miscellaneous heathen

(no subject)

from: pre_expansion
date: May. 16th, 2004 10:19 pm (UTC)
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Holy Hell. I haven't read The Stand since I was a kid but damn if you aren't making me want to pick it back up.

Eerie, creepy chapter. I loved it. And the thing that gets me though, I have absolutely no clue what you are planning to do next. Whose going to live or die and now I'm even wondering whose going to side with good and evil.

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sema

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from: semaphore27
date: May. 17th, 2004 07:00 pm (UTC)
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Thank you!

One of the things I liked about the book is that not all the people who go to Vegas are really evil, as such, just as not all the people who go to Boulder are good (I'm thinking of Harold here). Those gray areas keep things interesting.

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>_<

(no subject)

from: elouisa
date: May. 16th, 2004 10:20 pm (UTC)
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Guh... this gets better and better. So damn creepy but it's good to have our little Dommie back for a while, as deranged as he is.

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sema

(no subject)

from: semaphore27
date: May. 17th, 2004 07:02 pm (UTC)
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Thank you. :-)

And our Dommie's always looking our for his Billy--good thing, too!

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Still learning to be me

(no subject)

from: canciona
date: May. 16th, 2004 10:25 pm (UTC)
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Can't do anything but repeat myself.

You. Are. Amazing.

Tears in my eyes and heart in my throat.

Never stop, please.

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the expert in home-cosmography

(no subject)

from: blondiusmaximus
date: May. 16th, 2004 11:23 pm (UTC)
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You quoted Hamlet. I must now officially luff you forever. *officially luffs you forever*

This scary scares the shit out of me (Excuse my french). Especially since I have never read the Stand, so I have absolutly NO IDEA what's going to happen, or what Orli going to Flagg means (besides that it's bad, bad BAD), and that part with the tv, what was it? Oh yeah, SCARED THE SHIT OUT OF ME.

Of course, it is like, 1:35 am in the morning and I'm all alone in the dark and I just watched x-files, so that probably didn't help matters. *goes to sleep with blanket over head*

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WTB [WANG] x1 PST

(no subject)

from: cool_like_dom
date: May. 16th, 2004 11:37 pm (UTC)
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ohh, my. the fruitbat-ness continues. and it seems like dommie will not die?? yay?? maybe?? argh. disturbing and makes me want more at the same time.

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namastenancy

(no subject)

from: namastenancy
date: May. 16th, 2004 11:45 pm (UTC)
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WOW! Damn! Must make new resolution - do not read Sema before bedtime. Do not refresh list one last time. Holy s#*t!

No intelligent comment possible at this time.

namaste nancy ( going off to hide under bed and clutches Merry and Pippin dolls to her chest to protect them from the Evil.)

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The Trapeze Artist

(no subject)

from: trash_puppet
date: May. 17th, 2004 12:02 am (UTC)
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Why now? Why add more now? So early in the morning; when my brain is vulnerable and easily rotted by that which has become crack to me.
Thaaaaaaaaank you!

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PirateSorka

(no subject)

from: piratesorka
date: May. 17th, 2004 12:04 am (UTC)
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Sema hun, I saw what you wrote earlier...and I replied but you ditched it...I'll save those remarks for later...


As much as this pains me, you still have me reading along. Scared little bunny that I am...*shivers*

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hobbit_fancier2

(no subject)

from: hobbit_fancier2
date: May. 17th, 2004 09:10 pm (UTC)
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I'm looking at your icon and I'm dieing. That is the best icon I have EVER seen!

Fio

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Still learning to be me

(no subject)

from: canciona
date: May. 17th, 2004 12:06 am (UTC)
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Just occurred to me: knowing you're a fan of Neil's, was the TV thing inspired by the I Love Lucy bit from American Gods? Just curious. :) You are still amazing.

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ZoniDuck

(no subject)

from: zoniduck
date: May. 17th, 2004 12:38 am (UTC)
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Oh, God. Please not Orli. Why? Why is he going to Las Vegas? What the hell is *wrong* with him?

I think it should go without saying that I loved this chapter. And yay! for Safety Sean!! I can't help but think that he really isn't dealing with his grief tho'. I don't suppose any of them really have time for that at the moment. Delirium!Dom was great, and you really brought the creepy in this part. In particular, I feel that I should mention

“She says if I die, you’ll go south instead. You can’t go south, Bills. Not to Las Vegas. He’s there.”

gave me a full-body shiver of dread. Seriously.

And Flagg offering Orli to Billy was just horrifying.

But Orli!!!

::wails; gnashes teeth::

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Carbohydrates! Now in people shapes!

(no subject)

from: juniper200
date: May. 17th, 2004 12:50 am (UTC)
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Oh Orli! I knew you were too easily distracted by flashing lights and shiny objects for your own good! Stay away from Vegas!

Yeah, what zoniduck said about Flagg's offer to Billy. *shudder* that's creepy. But if Lij and Sean saw the thing with the TV too, then Billy's sort of got reinforcements, right? The hobbits would help him get to Boulder if something happened to Dommie.

(Nothing's gonna happen to Dommie, right? You wouldn't make like the book and kill Dom the way King killed Nick and have him come to Billy in dreams, etc., right? Because that would be cool, but another dead Dommie would break my heart.)

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Kolywoble!

(no subject)

from: kolywoble
date: May. 17th, 2004 02:09 am (UTC)
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OMG Talk about upping the ante in the creepiness stakes.
I like to think that you won't kill of Dommie cause you love him so much but after reading the alternative ending to Lost I am not so sure ... maybe the death bug has bit.

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Alys Scarlet

(no subject)

from: alysscarlet
date: May. 17th, 2004 02:33 am (UTC)
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Another brilliant, scary chapter. First thing I looked for when I switched on the computer this morning.

A voice tears through his head. “Fuck off from him! Fuck off from my Bill, you bloody wanker!”

Go Dommie, go!!

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(no subject)

from: tenwords
date: May. 17th, 2004 04:18 am (UTC)
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oh. oh dear. oh. that's me sitting in the corner rocking back and forth murmuring, "please please please. please please please."

if it weren't first thing in the morning, and if i hadn't been having weird dreams all night, i might only be standing in the corner with a crazy look on my face.

dude, you put me in a room with the hobbits. i swear i was there.

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jessionthemoon

(no subject)

from: jessionthemoon
date: May. 17th, 2004 04:32 am (UTC)
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mraaa! I love this too much for words

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everyone loves a wee sombrero

(no subject)

from: bibliotech
date: May. 17th, 2004 04:51 am (UTC)
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*whimpers* I don't wanna reeeead this anymore, I'm scared *turns on all the lights*

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Like a Child Dizzy on Lemonade

(no subject)

from: aneya
date: May. 17th, 2004 06:04 am (UTC)
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As if it couldn't get any better or any weirder..it does. Hoorah!! This is just becoming more and more spectacular. I'm enjoying it immensely, well...not the death and suffering of course, which sucks greatly, but the story itself and how well you've written it all. Tremendous job! Can't wait for more!

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Aranel Took

(no subject)

from: aranel_took
date: May. 17th, 2004 06:19 am (UTC)
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I love how they worked together against Flagg. Hobbits fighting evil!

I'm afraid to find out what Flagg's going to do with Orli. There are just so many possibilities there.

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Zahz

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from: zahz87
date: May. 17th, 2004 07:02 am (UTC)
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Great this just keeps getting better and better! Keep it going can't wait for more.

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mixmasterhobbit

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from: mixmasterhobbit
date: May. 17th, 2004 08:16 am (UTC)
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this is so intense. can't wait for the next one. more! more!

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Krystal Shay

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from: krystalshay
date: May. 17th, 2004 09:00 am (UTC)
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Oh, I'm getting really into this. But no Dommie-death, 'kay? *sob*

And Orlando... I wonder if he's going to be springing up anytime soon...

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