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This Is the Way the World Ends, Chapter 9

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May. 18th, 2004 | 06:09 pm
mood: draineddrained
music: Van Morrison, "Tupelo Honey"
posted by: semaphore27 in monaboyd

Author: Semaphore
Pairing: Billy/Dom
Rating: PG-13 Language, for now. More weirdness--let's blame Stephen King!
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. The aftermath of Billy's visit, and the morning after.
Feedback: longed for and appreciated. So many thanks to all who've commented so far! I shower you with hugs and rose petals! Unless that's too scary. *g* Of course, how could it be as scary as this?
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. Dom's song is "Break on Through to the Other Side," by The Doors.
Previous chapters and other writings can be found at: Caraidean

Elijah can’t stop talking. “Do any of you feel like we’ve fallen into a movie? I mean the… uh… the other, the flu thing, that was weird and horrible but, y’know within the realm of the possible. Designer viruses, that’s the kind of stuff the mad scientist guys in the white coats can do.” He scuffs his bare toes against the burned spot on the floorboards. “This… this was just freaksome. Like a movie.”

Sean, having set the fire extinguisher aside, is helping Billy get Dom more or less back to his feet. They’re all coughing now, a little—not with disease, but with the white dust tickling their mouths and throats. Billy’s surprised to find it tastes like baking soda. sharp, dry, a little sour. A fine layer of it still lies over everything; Dom’s skin is crusted with it, so that he looks like Merry on Caradhras, snow-dusted, his lips blue, pain in his eyes. His chest and right shoulder are bleeding, embedded with shards of dark glass from the television screen, and his hand bleeds too, from where the drip’s torn out of his vein.

Dommie, Billy thinks, what was that? What were you trying to do for me?

He’s afraid, then, that he might have something like a soul after all, that Dom was trying with all his might to save. It’s a strange thought, humbling and unnerving—both that it might be so and that Dom, now so diminished, would still fight so extremely hard. For him. Only for him.

Dom’s smiling. He rests his head a moment, lovingly, on Billy’s shoulder, murmuring, “Couldn’t let him have you, Bills—my life for you.”

“Let’s get you into another room, shall we?” Billy says to him. What else is there to say?

This bedroom, with its rime of fire retardant and its shattered television, feels strangely polluted, as if the echoes of the cruel, glad voice that spoke to him still linger. Billy realizes he’s trembling, and he can’t quite get his mind wrapped around what he’s been offered.

Orlando? What would he want with Orlando? No one denies Orli’s beauty, that’s true enough--but he isn’t Dommie, is he? Not Dommie with his bright eyes and irregular features. Dommie whose body fits his so perfectly. Dom who can make him laugh until he’s crying, and all the world, with its sorrows, runs away. Dom with his mobile face that can look lovely or cheeky, deranged with glee or with its own, still beauty.

Orlando, indeed!

Orli’s a good mate, though, and Billy fears for him suddenly. He feels, acutely, the narrowness of his own escape, and knows that, if not for Dom and their friends, he might well have been drawn in to a trap he’d be likely to lose his life escaping.

There are more things in heaven and earth, he thinks, sadly. There are more things…

It’s sobering—while, at the same time, it makes him feel like drinking, drinking heavily, until all this drifts away. Until the world goes numb and silent around him.

Billy realizes he’s shaking badly. As they move out into the corridor, taking it slowly, because Dom certainly can’t stand on his own (and can’t move either, really) he finds himself agreeing with Elijah. It’s like a movie. A horror movie. Except that--as the characters in such films rarely are--he’s amazed by his own stupidity.

“There won’t be any more movies,” Sean says softly.

Billy and Elijah stare.

“It just hit me,” Sean continues, eyes filling. “No more movies, no more books, no more artists or politicians. No more Sunday paper or coffee growers. No more doctors or nurses. No more… I dunno… Zookeepers. Stockbrokers. Fire fighters. No more ‘what am I going to be when I grow up?’ Because it’s all ended. My children are dead, guys. My little girls are dead, and I can’t even go back home for their pictures. I made, like, a million home videos, you know? But I can’t go back to LA for them. That would be crazy.”

“Seanwise…” Elijah begins.

“So what if I forget what they looked like? What if I forget their voices? I wasn’t even with Allie when she… when she… you know… and I should have been. She should have had her daddy then. I still think I hear them calling, their voices in the hallway, and that makes me smile—but then I remember it can’t ever, ever be. Careful, there, Dom.” Sean backs through the doorway into the second bedroom, the one that’s meant to be the master bedroom, with the en suite bathroom. It decorated all in shades of green, sage-coloured walls with darker bedding, and the light that falls across their faces is like something in a forest.

When we all lived in the forest,” Elijah says suddenly, “And no one lived anywhere else.” In that light, his eyes look like tourmaline. “What? It’s something I remembered. Something Chris Lee said. It’s another way to begin a fairy tale. The one that isn’t ‘once upon a time.’ ‘Cause that one always has to end up with ‘they lived happily ever after,’ doesn’t it? So this thing we’re in—that’s the other kind. The kind with the dead guy’s talking head in the plant pot, or the brother that’s left with a swan wing. And I think I might be fucking going insane, guys. I mean, seriously.”

Sean doesn’t appear to have heard him. Carefully, he helps Billy settle Dom in the bed. “Before Mr. Evil there popped up on the TV screen, I was dreaming about Christine.” Sean laughs softly. “I was kissing her, in a cornfield, and everything…” His gaze goes far away. “It seemed so real. I could smell the dry, turned earth and the sweetness of the corn, just like when we were in New Zealand, remember? I remember that smell from just before Dom slammed into me.” He props Dom upright with one large hand against his back, adjusting the piled-up pillows until he’s sitting more than lying. “I had such a sense that everything was good and peaceful, like someone was watching over me.” His hand lingers on Dom’s torn shoulder, and his eyes have overflowed now, the tears falling freely. “Only it hits me, God, she’s in the ground rotting. My beautiful Christine. I’m never, never, never going to see her face or kiss her again. It’s all over now. For always.”

His fingers clench then, and Dom makes a soft sound of discomfort, but Elijah crawls across the bed on his knees to loosen Sean’s grip, keeping the hand held safely between his own, his blue eyes shadowed but oddly innocent. “Sean,” he murmurs. “Seanie.”

“Sean,” Billy says, “your life isnae over.”

Astin laughs, with real humour. “Yeah, you’re really a good one to talk, Mr. Bill. At least I’m not planning a trip to Vegas.”

“I wouldn’t…” Billy begins, but they all know better. He finds himself flushing. “Now I’ve been warned. I know.”

“Guys,” Lij interjects, before Sean can disagree. “You think maybe we should take care of Dom before the sheets get stained, like, permanently?”

Billy finds himself snapped back to the present, though he hadn’t known he’d been drifting so badly. He glances, then, to Dom, whose eyes have come open and are turned to him, in a way that at any other time would say he’s watching, intent. Only he still has no pupils that Billy can see, and his irises have remained the odd silver-blue they’d been previously.

Though Dom’s eyes can be many colours, and some of them are silvery, Billy’s never seen this precise shade before.

“Dom,” he asks softly, “Can you hear me?”

He wishes Dom would answer, that he could answer, but Dom has gone to that other place, where Billy can’t reach. He wonders, then, if it’s merely a form of unconsciousness, or if Dom really is traveling in ways he can’t comprehend.

Billy moves closer to the bed, taking Dom’s hand in his own, as Elijah holds Sean’s, raising it to his own cheek, feeling a warmth there that, while still intense, is not as terrible as it’s been. He wishes he could take this for a good sign.

“It’s probably good he’s out,” Sean says. “At least until we get those cuts cleaned and bandaged.”

“The thing is, though…” Elijah glances up at him, then back at Billy. “I’m not sure if he has been, or is now. Before, y’know, with the TV, he was definitely clued in to what was happening. He loves you so much, Bill.”

Billy can’t bear it, suddenly. He turns, leaves the room, shuts the door behind. In the quiet of the corridor he crouches down, head on knees, rocking, in a way he hasn’t done since childhood, sinking into a misery he never let anyone, not even Margaret, see.

He wants so badly for Dom to glance at him with his usual cheeky, delighted, casual grin, wants to hear Dom’s voice, his normal, cheery voice say, “What are you on about then, Billy?”

He wants Dom’s arms to wrap round him, strong and warm and cheering, for Dom to rock him the way he does, calling out, “Billy! Bills! Billy!” just like when he came to collect Billy at LAX, with no inhibitions whatsoever, brimming with affection, not caring that the whole world sees.

“Bill?” says Elijah’s voice then, just beside him. “We were wondering where you went to.”

“Nowhere. Just here,” Billy answers. He’s so tired, suddenly, after his night of missed sleep. He’d like, too, to feel Dom’s arms around him from behind, Dom’s body pressed against his, the way Billy himself will turn, while Dom’s arm holds him all the more tightly, and they’ll kiss, the sweetness of Dom’s mouth against his, half the time tasting of grape or cherry lollies, only mingled with something else, some essential Domness that cannot be replicated.

Elijah sits down cross-legged beside him, boyish face sympathetic. “I kinda understand how you feel,” he says. “Not exactly, but kinda.” He pauses, watching Billy intently, almost as if there’s a coolness that spreads from that blue gaze moving over his skin. “Sean and I, y’know… Whatever happens, we won’t let you go to Vegas. You can’t be fooled by anything he tells you. That’s a dude definitely does not have your best interests.” He pauses again, mouth tightening. “Dude. The Walking Dude. I’ve…” Elijah jumps to his feet, offering Billy a hand up. “I know it sounds crazy to say, but I’ve seen him. Before this. Smiling. He’s always smiling. Don’t you hate that?”

“I’d never seen him before tonight,” Billy answers.

Elijah only looks at him.

“Really,” he says.

When Billy and Elijah return, an armload of first aid supplies between them, Sean has the oxygen flowing again, and inserted a new drip needle. Elijah wets a flannel at the tap to wash away the worst of the bleeding.

“There’s glass in here, I think,” he says. “Bill, did you bring the tweezers? And we’ll need a flashlight, maybe. Do we have one?”

Billy returns to the kitchen, finding an electric torch in a drawer stuffed with twine, old nails and batteries. By the time he’s back, Elijah’s removed the first of the glass slivers.

“Splinter,” he breathes, eyes flooding. “Guys, what are we gonna do without our Merry?”

“Ssh, Lij, don’t say that,” Sean cautions. “He can hear you.”

“I’m scared,” Elijah tells them, freeing another shard. “Things are changing. What’s possible and what isn’t is changing. For real, the TV talks to you. For real, we’re having the same dreams.” He squints at a small grayish-black sliver and the tweezers slip out of his fingers. “Fuck! Damn stupid eyesight! Billy, I can’t do this.”

Billy slips into his place, immediately, picking up the small metal tweezers, lifting Sean’s hand slightly to direct the light. By the time all the glass has been removed, Dom’s bleeding freely, the red trickles dark against his pale skin, but Sean cleans and bandages them carefully, until there’s nothing visible except what seems acres of tape and white gauze.

“Shit,” Elijah says, smoothing down a stray curling end of the medical tape. “That TV must have damn near exploded when he hit it. I wonder if that’s a normal kind of thing.”

Sean’s tidying away the bits and bobs of their supplies, turning back the blankets and sheets. “I can’t imagine that it is. Doodle, when you said we’re having the same dreams…?”

“The cornfield,” Elijah says. “We’re all seeing Hemingford Home, where Mother Abigail lives.” He slips in beneath the covers, moving over to give Billy space. It doesn’t seem odd, any longer, to have Lij’s body pressed against his, or for Sean’s weight to be behind him, Sean snoring deeply but gently.

Billy lies awake a long while after the lights are off, but when he sleeps, he dreams.

There’s the corn, in long, dark, slightly dusty rows, and it does smell sweet, just as Sean’s said. If Dom were with him, Billy knows, his eyes would be streaming, and he’d be sneezing like mad, because Dom’s allergies as worst when the corn’s like this, the ears full, bursting with silk. Billy, of course, isn’t bothered at all. The only thing that gets him sick is cinnamon, which Dom loves but no longer eats when Billy’s near, because he can’t bear to give what he calls ‘toxic kisses.’ The phrase always makes Billy laugh for some reason, though he appreciates the thoughtfulness of the sentiment. For all his wild ways, Dom’s often quite tender with him, more so than anyone else he’s known.

Most people in his life haven’t seen that he needs that tenderness, occasionally.

“Oi, Bills!” There’s Dom’s voice calling to him. Dom’s there in the dark, quite close, grinning merrily, his eyes scrunched up yet glinting bluely, the moonlight shining off his mouthful of small, white teeth. They’ve come to know each other’s various smiles so well, and this one speaks to Billy of amazement and delight. “I didn’t know you were here!”

“I didn’t know you were here, either, Dommie,” Billy answers, unable to contain a grin of his own, because the Dom in his dream looks so happy and well, dressed in only a pair of his board shorts—a deep indigo blue—worn low on his hips, as Dom always wears them, almost to the point of being obscene, showing the light line of dark hair, and the creases between his abdomen and his hips. He stretches out his arms, the muscles moving smoothly in his shoulders and chest, until Billy can’t help but come to him, folding himself into Dom’s warmth. So good to be held close, enveloped in Dom’s strength, all the restless abundance of his love, deep and strong as the sea.

“Billy, Billy, Billy,” he croons happily, which is what his Dommie always does when they’ve been apart and then meet. “Are you going to come with me?”

There’s something Billy wants to tell him. “I wouldn’t have gone to England. I wouldn’t have done the play if I’d known.”

“Known what, Bills?” Dom holds him at arms’ length, looking down into Billy’s face. “God, I love you, y’know?”

“That you would be dying so soon.”

Dom has Billy’s hand in his hand now, leading him along the row. “Ssh, love,” he says. “We need to be quiet for a while.”

It must be a huge field, Billy thinks, because they’re traveling a long time, with the moon round and bright overhead, making it easy to find their way—not bright enough, however, that Billy can see what’s moving, rustling between the stalks.

“It’s the rats!” Dom tells him in a stage whisper, but then they’re breaking out into the open, to a square clearing with an apple tree with a tyre-swing swaying from one limb, with hard-beaten earth, and a little shack of a house weathered silvery by the elements—or maybe it’s just the way the moon shines, making the little place seem to glow in the dark. “Don’t worry, though,” Dom says. “They won’t follow you here.” He gives Billy’s hand a little squeeze. “Look, there’s the guitar.”

Billy finds himself moving forward, letting Dom go. The guitar, when he picks it up off the porch, feels lighter than he’s used to, although the body’s larger than that of his instrument at home. The strings wink brightly as he touches them, each note they produce sweet and true. The fingers of his left hand dance over the neck, the nails of his right hand plucking tightly-wound steel almost unconsciously.

He’s surprised by the song he’s playing, by the tension and the drive his hands create, by the fact that it’s Dom who's singing, not him:

You know the day destroys the night
Night divides the day
Tried to run
Tried to hide
Break on through to the other side

We chased our pleasures here
Dug our treasures there
But can you still recall
The time we cried
Break on through to the other side

I found an island in your arms
Country in your eyes
Arms that chain us
Eyes that lie
Break on through to the other side
Break on through to the other side

They’re running through the desert, then, suddenly, the hot air burning their lungs, the sand stinging their eyes, and all the telephone poles by the side of the sticky black highway no longer carry messages from afar, they carry bodies hanging, they carry bodies crucified, men and women dead in blood and burning sun and agony.

Billy’s falling down, skinning his knees on the tarmac, tearing the skin from the palms of his hands. His head swims with the heat and his stomach feels sick.

Dom’s hands lift him, raise him gently to his feet. His arms hold Billy tightly to his chest. His breath and his velvet-soft voice are in Billy’s ear. “Bills, this is his work. This is what you had to see. Do you understand, Billy? He wants you, and that’s why he’s trying to kill me.”

Billy turns in Dom’s arms, pressing himself closer, close as he can, as if he can somehow slip inside Dom’s skin. He’s shaking, horrified and afraid. He would have been part of this, would have aided and abetted, and when he was done with it all, and the truth revealed, there would have been nothing left of him to be saved.

“Hush, hush, love,” Dom tells him kindly. “You understand now. Don’t be afraid. He’s just another lying git, and when you see that, he can’t get to you. You do see, don’t you, Billy?” He holds Billy tighter, planting a wet kiss on top of his head. “Whatever happens, you see?”

And Billy presses closer, closer still, until there’s no Dom left there with him, only air and clean white bone collapsing.

“God!” Billy screams, jerking upright. “No, Dommie, no!”

“Mmnrph?” Dom groans beside him, eyes opening, turning Billy’s way, though Billy knows now they don’t see anything—they’re dull with sightlessness, fever and pain. “What’s goin’ on, Bills? Will someone turn on the fucking lights in here?”

Billy blinks. The room occupies one corner of the house, and has windows on two walls. Outside, it’s broad day. “Dommie,” he says softly, “They’re on.” He raises a hand before Dom’s face. Dom doesn’t blink, only continues to regard him with mingled annoyance and curiosity.

“Bill, are you taking the piss out of me?” Dom shifts in the bed. “And speaking of which, actually...”

Billy edges out from beneath the sheets, climbing over Dom’s legs.

“I just felt you move,” Dom says, “And, by the way, thank you for not stepping on me. I just can’t see a bloody thing. Is that because I’ve been ill, Billy?”

“Possibly.” Billy doesn’t want to alarm Dom any more than he has to. “How do you feel?”

“Better.” Dom clears his throat, which still sounds raw and sore, though the dark patches have gone down. “Bit like shite, still. Weaker than hell.”

“That’s not surprising,” Billy tells him. “You haven’t been at all well. Did you want me to help you, Dommie?”

Slowly, Dom sits, his face tight with pain. “Got one hell of a headache here.” He swings his legs over the edge of the bed, leaning forward with his head in his hands. “Jesus Christ, Bill.”

“Here, céile, lean on me.” Billy raises him to his feet, Dom’s hands on his shoulders, Billy’s hands around Dom’s waist, as if they’re performing some sort of formal dance. “How’s your balance?”

Dom’s shaking, but his mouth is set. “’s okay. I’ll make it there. You be Ginger, I’ll be Fred Astaire.”

“You know why Ginger was a better dancer, right?” Billy says. Despite the terror of the night, he’s so glad to be talking to Dom, he’s more than willing to make a fool of himself, to say anything, to hear Dom’s voice.

Dom laughs, and it sets him off coughing, though not as badly as before, more like someone who’s suffering from a miserable cold. “Everything Fred did, Ginger did backwards and in high heels. All right, then, Ginger, you wanker, lead on before I piss on you.”

“Always so tasteful, Fred,” Billy says.

Dom groans. “Why doesn’t someone just cut off my bleedin’ head? I think it would be less painful.”

“But you wouldn’t be nearly so cute, and I’d have to leave you for some other bloke who had a head. I’m fickle that way. Mind the door, here.”

“Ouch.” Dom rebounds slightly from the doorjamb. “Ginger, that’s the last time I let you lead. Is that tile under my feet?”

“Yes, you’ve made it, fortunately.”

“And this is the point at which you leave,” Dom tells him, groping for the edge of the vanity, the edges of his ears turning red, as they often do when he feels ashamed.

“I’m not leaving you, Dommie. Not like we haven’t done this in front of each other before.”

“Yeah, except that I’m going to sit down and piss like a girl, because I can’t stand up anymore.” Dom’s face is going lopsided with embarrassment, and he’s chewing on the inside of his lip. “C’mon, Bills, please. Leave me a little dignity.”

“I don’t want you to fall,” Billy protests, but with remarkably good aim, Dom’s shoving him out of the door, shutting and locking it behind him.

Billy stays near. He hears urination, then water running, then the choked, muffled sound of Dom’s tears, and he knows exactly what it is, really, that Dom hasn’t wanted to show—all his anger, his sorrow, his fear, wanting to keep it to himself aloof in his grieving, so that it’s one more thing Billy won’t have to bear.

Billy presses his hand flat to the panel, listening, wanting so badly to say, “Let me in, love, let me in. Let me help you if I can.”

But instead Elijah’s calling out to him from the bed. “Bill, was that Dom’s voice? Is he all right?”

Billy turns. Smiling, the way he always smiles. “Yes, it was, Doodle. He’s better today.”

His face must reveal something Billy hadn’t meant it too, because Elijah’s own face is shocked and white.

“Billy,” he says, “Tell me. What’s happened to him?”

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Comments {35}


(no subject)

from: llaras
date: May. 18th, 2004 06:33 pm (UTC)

What a great chapter! You had me gasping and on the edge of tears there for a minute.

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miscellaneous heathen

(no subject)

from: pre_expansion
date: May. 18th, 2004 06:58 pm (UTC)

I had so much trouble getting to this chapter, almost ruined my laptop! I saw that you had updated but suddenly my Internet went screwy and my computer shut off. Total frustration. But anyway.

“Couldn’t let him have you, Bills—my life for you.”
Even though it seems as if Dom is in the clear, for a small time at least, this line still gives me chills.

Another great chapter. But you blinded Dom. He'll never get to see Bill again, well I suppose there are the dreams. And what creepy dreams they are!

You did have me grin with the line abou finding someone with a head. Classic.

I have this hilarious vision of Orlando wandering in Las Vegas. Horrible things are happening all around him and he's just staring at some lights, "ooohhh pretty."

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(no subject)

from: namastenancy
date: May. 18th, 2004 07:00 pm (UTC)

Seema, the queen of cliff hangers. My heart went out to you about the issues with your Mother. I've got one of the difficult ones as well and my solution is to stay as far away as possible. She is lucky in you and your sister. I'm sending white light and blessings and all my affection north so if you see a wandering, completely idiotic and not-very-white light around your place, you'll know where it came from.

blessings be
namaste nancy

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(Deleted comment)

Still learning to be me

(no subject)

from: canciona
date: May. 18th, 2004 07:45 pm (UTC)

Dammit, I knew you were going to do that! I hate it when I'm right. But better blind than dead. At least, so far.

I'm still crying for poor Seanie. I'm glad that at least you didn't do all this for a Seanlijah scenario. Forgive my doubting you; I didn't really believe it, but the thought entered my mind. Ahh, poor Seanie. That bit about Allie just killed me, and everytime I think I'm done crying over it, you rip my heart out again and stomp on it.

“Couldn’t let him have you, Bills—my life for you.”

I loved this! Trashcan Man lives! And using Dommie to pay tribute in a totally reversed and even more amazing, brilliant, beautiful sort of way...you just love to knock me over, don't you?

Crying and grinning and more crying all in one story. You're really trying to wreck me for all others, aren't you? Well, you're succeeding just fine, thanks.

Brilliant as always, and just like the best of King, in that it mixes sad beauty, earthy realism, phenomenal emotional extremes and creeping otherworldliness so naturally you never even notice it's all happening at once.

You continue to amaze me.

(And if Billy and Dommie both survive this, I will worship at your altar forever. Not that I'm trying to bribe you or anything.

Alright, yes, I am.


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little miss smutcakes

(no subject)

from: tripping_sin
date: May. 19th, 2004 11:04 am (UTC)

i agree with every word. i couldn't say it better myself so i won't even try.

and canciona? yours is the best/funniest/greatest icon ever.

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Still learning to be me

(no subject)

from: canciona
date: May. 19th, 2004 11:32 am (UTC)

Thanks, dear!

Credit for the icon (and my default icon, too, for that matter)actually belongs to cincodemaygirl, and you should check out the rest of them from this batch here: http://www.livejournal.com/users/cincodemaygirl/97010.html

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little miss smutcakes

(no subject)

from: tripping_sin
date: May. 19th, 2004 02:55 pm (UTC)

omg those are awesome! i never saw those before.


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Set phasers to fabulous!

(no subject)

from: cincodemaygirl
date: May. 18th, 2004 08:13 pm (UTC)



I love you. Just so you know that.

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(no subject)

from: cool_like_dom
date: May. 18th, 2004 08:18 pm (UTC)

oh my god, if you made dommie blind, i'm going to freak out. like, more than i have already. sema, you're killing me! more more more!

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*lovely molecules*


from: satine405
date: May. 18th, 2004 08:49 pm (UTC)

To steal a line from a friend..."I dont know which is worse, the angst in the fic, or the angst WAITING for the fic.."

Amazing, thats all I can say. Long time reader, first time poster. I am anxiously awaiting the next chapter! Bravo!

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from: circe_tigana
date: May. 18th, 2004 08:50 pm (UTC)


anniesj! SHE BLINDED HIM!!!!!!!

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the butcher of mayfair


from: anniesj
date: May. 18th, 2004 10:56 pm (UTC)

OMG!!!! OMG!!!!


::is fucking DEAD now::


Excuse me ... I have to go ... ahhhh ... do something now. That does NOT involve sexual fantasies about Blind!Dom reading my body like Braille with shaking fingertips and ...

::dies of angstgasm::


::huggles the Circe, for she knows my ev01 kinks all too well!::

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Any further questions? Ask the shrimp!


from: txvoodoo
date: May. 19th, 2004 03:07 am (UTC)

You 2 are like harbingers of doom, cackling on a fence. Why do I like it so much?

Sema, once again you rip my heart out in the best way possible, and I love you for it. Thank you for not killing Dommie - now he can be their Milton, and Billy his guide. But oh , those lovely eyes! *sniff*

BTW forgive typos _ I'm on my pocket pc!

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from: circe_tigana
date: May. 20th, 2004 02:47 pm (UTC)

You 2 are like harbingers of doom, cackling on a fence.

LOL! Best.Imagery.Ever.

::ruffles crow's feathers and caws::

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Any further questions? Ask the shrimp!

(no subject)

from: txvoodoo
date: May. 20th, 2004 03:45 pm (UTC)

I can SO see it. Except, strangely, it's 2 bird bodies, one with an Annie human head, one with a Circe human head. In a "pastede on yay!" way.

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(Deleted comment)

The Larch

(no subject)

from: the_larch
date: May. 18th, 2004 09:44 pm (UTC)

Sweet goddamn this is killing me. And blind Dom -- I have no words.

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(no subject)

from: deaver
date: May. 18th, 2004 09:58 pm (UTC)

I keep thinking the last chapter is as good as it could possibly get, and then you put out a new chapter and prove me wrong. Just gets better and better!

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Carbohydrates! Now in people shapes!

(no subject)

from: juniper200
date: May. 18th, 2004 10:19 pm (UTC)

Sema, your Dommie is a one-man casualty ward. Blind, suicidal, infected, nearly severed...it never ends!

I like how Lij is the one to finally go ahead and blurt out that something weird(er) is going on. And I really liked Sean's description of the enormity of the event.

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from: piratesorka
date: May. 18th, 2004 10:55 pm (UTC)

You are so brilliant. You foreshadowed Dom being blind and LO! Here it is chapter 9 and Dom is blind. Brilliant.

I'm still scared of this fic but I am sticking with you.

I must be nuts! I'm soooo scared..*shivers*

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someone is crazy (and it's you)

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from: axis2cluster_b
date: May. 18th, 2004 11:12 pm (UTC)

“Couldn’t let him have you, Bills—my life for you.”

Taken in context of The Stand, this really freaked me out *g*

I think that what actually grabbed me most in this chapter was Billy's breakdown in the hall. Beautifully done.

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from: kolywoble
date: May. 19th, 2004 12:10 am (UTC)

wow just ... wow.

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from: ms_maree
date: May. 19th, 2004 02:39 am (UTC)

Poor Dom. He hurts so pretty, but Sema you might think about giving him a break some time...not anytime soon, yeah?

I can't help but think of Orli, perhaps Viggo will go rescue him. Viggo with his ability to live in the wilds...if he's alive. Then I realised that in the The Standverse horses were also wiped out, but maybe one of his still lives?

I think in that type of world Viggo would be very reassuring.

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from: moonilicious
date: May. 19th, 2004 03:52 am (UTC)

It's official, you're a Goddess. *bows before you*

I'm glad I never read the book, so I don't get distracted my anything outside this story. Oh man, I love this story... <33333

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Elanor Gamgee

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from: elanorkat
date: May. 19th, 2004 04:04 am (UTC)

In that light, his eyes look like tourmaline.

I love this.

And speaking of eyes....arrghh!!

This is obsessing me. I lay awake last night thinking about it. It's better that I never read The Stand, I think, because I have not a clue what is going to happen next.

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from: tenwords
date: May. 19th, 2004 04:28 am (UTC)

... oddly enough, i dreamt the other night something weird about my eyes, and when i woke up, i realised it was because of this fic.

i read this last night, and half wondered if i would dream i was blind. i didn't.

i would list all the things i loved about this chapter, but there are too many.

as a side note, it scares me sometimes how much i look forward to new chapters of your stories. really, it does.

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from: mixmasterhobbit
date: May. 19th, 2004 06:28 am (UTC)

blind dom?! no! dommie get better!! billy needs you! *sniffle*

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Aranel Took

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from: aranel_took
date: May. 19th, 2004 07:17 am (UTC)

This is so good! Can't wait for more!

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Krystal Shay

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from: krystalshay
date: May. 19th, 2004 08:52 am (UTC)

Seriously creepy. Looking forward to more.

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Alys Scarlet

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from: alysscarlet
date: May. 19th, 2004 09:42 am (UTC)

Another beautifully written and nuanced chapter. I love your characterisations here, especially Sean who is beginning to grieve.

"There won't be any more movies," Sean says softly.


And it's nice to have Dom and Billy talking again. The bit about the head was hilarious.

Fantastic stuff, as ever!

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from: jillybinks
date: May. 19th, 2004 09:50 am (UTC)

Okay, just got caught up with the last few chapters and I am so loving this. I love the Walking Dude. You have captured his smiling creepiness perfectly. And Billy's anger and grief is so right. Elijah's confusion and Sean's spacey disconnection are perfect too.

I love Dom's blindness and Orli's trip to Vegas. I really want to know more about that, why he is going there rather than with his friends and what the Walking Dude did to seduce him.

God, this is just so brilliant, I can't wait for more!!!

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i'm going to be on fucking youtube again

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from: ficangel
date: May. 19th, 2004 10:40 am (UTC)

Damn, I'm continuing to love this. The changes you're making in the canon text all fit so perfectly. I feel bad for Orlando. He's going to wind up dayglo if he doesn't watch it.

Dom’s smiling. He rests his head a moment, lovingly, on Billy’s shoulder, murmuring, “Couldn’t let him have you, Bills—my life for you.”

Really didn't need to be comparing Dom to Trash. Sent the shivers right up my spine.

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from: linduvan
date: May. 19th, 2004 12:11 pm (UTC)

Of course I'm hip deep in Trashy's chapters when you decide to have Dommie start sounding like him! Creeeeepy! LoveLoveLove BlindDom! What a fantastic twist!

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