#beverly hope

[fear-is-truth]

[inmyfxith]

Co-victim

Pairing: Kai x sister!reader, Ally x Kai' sister!reader

OC: none

A/N: Many of Lana’s quotes came from AHS Season 6 Episode 10

Warnings: Mention of incest, murders, language

Words: 2k2

"How are you feeling?" Lost in thought, looking down at your shoes, the famous reporter's hand on your shoulder helped your mind return to the living. More than four years had passed since Kai's death and since Ally's election as Michigan's senator. And in those four years, you had remained in the shadows of the media, cloistered in the family home that had become the attraction of all the curious and sordid story seekers.

"Could I have a glass of water, please?" You replied, calmly, trying to hide your discomfort as best you could. Lana Winters appeared to be a talented journalist. A survivor of the despicable Briarcliff Asylum, her many reports had earned her a title relatively common to Ally's. Now very old, Lana continued to conduct interviews with more or less controversial personalities. And on this day, you were on the interviewees' couch. An assistant brought you what looked like a glass of soda water, which took only a few seconds to swallow.

Taking a seat on the couch opposite yours, Lana sighed a few reassuring words to you before the set was set up for the live launch of the show. Your hands were sweaty. Your heart was beating wildly, spreading an unusual feeling of heat throughout your body. The cameraman waved to the reporter, who was already facing the camera and reciting the day's introduction.

"Today, the entire nation knows the story of FIT, the cult born in a small town in Oakland County, Michigan. From its first meetings to its murder, the misdeeds of its ruthless leader have held tens of thousands of Americans in thrall. Since its dismantling in 2017, the few survivors have been trying to rebuild their lives in a society that seems to despise them for their choices. After many attempts, one of them finally agreed to return, with me, on the few months that saw the evolution of the infamous Kai Anderson's cult. Welcome to the Lana Winters special." Silent, you only listened with a detached ear to Lana's monologue. However, the use of the word "ruthless" stuck in your mind. A woman came out of nowhere and quickly powdered your face before disappearing from where she seemed to have come from. And then the interview really began. Lana turned back to you, her whole body leaning forward to add more proximity to your exchange. The almost blinding lights illuminated your face and darkened everything around you.

"Y/N, thank you for being with us for this interview. I have so many questions for you. There are so many things people want to know. I'll start with the most important one, how are you?" You smiled softly, as did Lana. Taking a deep breath, your gaze broke from the reporter's for a few moments. The expression on your face was undoubtedly meant to give clues to your future response. But Lana didn't let any silence settle.

"You've been to hell and back."

"I think, today, I'm trying to move on. For my parents, for my brothers, my sister. But most of all for my daughter." The reporter nodded as she took in your last sentence.

“For your daughter, Liberty right ?”

A smile instinctively appeared on your face when she mentioned your child's name. Since her birth, a few days before the death of your older brother, she had become your reason for reintroducing yourself to the world. The conditions of her conception were peculiar, but she was still your child.

"Liberty Winter Anderson," you replied with a touch of pride in your voice, "it is because of her that I am still alive today." Straightening up in her seat, Lana bounced at what you had just said.

"You understand then, no doubt, now that you are a parent, the situation that Senator Mayfair-Richards was in with her little boy." It wasn't long before the crux of the matter came up and, to be quite honest, you were slightly dreading it. People were already recognizing you on the street, staring at you and whispering in each other's ears in your presence. The pain, anger and pity they felt had somehow pushed you to accept Lana's invitation.

"Although I don't forget, it's been a long time since I forgave her for her actions. If Lili were in danger, I wouldn't know how I would react. Oz was a sweet boy who didn't belong in our house."

"There are rumors that you still live in the family home". The camera changes were so discreet that you didn't notice the crew.

"I moved there after I gave birth. I needed a place to live, and this house has been in my family for years. The memories, joyful I mean, are always important.“

"Can you tell us, Y/N, if it's not too difficult, about your brother? Who was Kai Anderson to you?" Oh, you dreaded that question too, the one where you would have to plead the case of a man who had orchestrated horrible murders. A man who despite this remained a member of your family that you would have cherished for the rest of your life. Running a hand across your forehead, you took a deep breath and, with your eyes directed at your hands, your monologue began.

"Kai was my brother. You can't ask someone to speak ill of their own family, because society will always have a different image than you. I will tell you who Kai was. He was an angry young man. But he wasn't always angry. Before my parents died, he was a completely different boy. He was kind, caring, and took good care of me."

"Why do you say that?" Lana cut you off suddenly.

"Our father wasn't the nicest man in the world. He often yelled, made scathing remarks at every turn. No one would have felt totally safe in his presence. In 2014, I was very young. My older brother already had his own psychology practice and my sister was studying at a New York university. Kai only stayed in the house for me. So I wouldn't have to endure my father's incessant scolding. He was waiting for me to leave so he could leave after." You were only exposing your truth to the world. Your mind had decided to blur its misdeeds for your own sanity. A slight silence enveloped the room and tears intruded into the conversation.

"I can imagine how painful it must have been to lose your family. But you have to admit that he was no angel. Kai Anderson was the leader of a cult whose victims number in the dozens."

"That's not the image I've decided to keep of him. The Kai you describe, whom other journalists portray as a sadistic manipulator, is nothing like my brother."

"Still, he was behind the murder of your brother, Vincent, and your sister Winter. You forgave him so easily?" She insisted again and again. The tears that were beginning to trickle down your cheeks fanned her desire for a reporter more and more.

"The leader of the cult was not my brother. As far as I'm concerned Kai died shortly before the 2016 election." Your tone becoming harsher, the reporter turned to one of the camera operators before announcing a commercial page. The short commercial page gave you time to think about Lana's next question about what you had done after Kai's arrest. A wave of memories emerged in your mind.

Your forehead resting against the window of the police car, the family home disappeared on the horizon as if it had come straight from your imagination. One blurry moment had followed another and your mind seemed to be lost in the maze of information acquired during those last moments. Winter's death, the night of the Hundred Males, Kai's anxious behavior and, finally, the arrival of the FBI.

Everything had happened at an alarming speed. The divine ruler was explaining his rules one last time, galvanizing his troops for what he had been preparing for months, and the next moment, half of his army was neutralized, just like him. In the room with them, and Beverly, you were trying to remain unmoved by Kai's monologues. Monologues that involved the murder of hundreds of women in your condition, but few knew that.

Before the discovery of his paternity, Kai had tried to create an heir. A successor who would surpass him in every way, a real man capable of changing the face of the world. However, his initial focus was on Winter, and Samuel had ruined everything. To fulfill his deepest desire, he had turned to you. Younger, more docile, that's what everyone had concluded. After several ceremonies, and attempts, he had finally become bored, finding other more important concerns.

What Kai didn't know, however, was that you had indeed ended up pregnant. And around you, Ally seemed the most willing to help you, since she herself had carried Ozymandias. She quickly recognized her own experience in the first symptoms described. Without covering for you, Ally was strangely sympathetic, especially when your mood swings became more frequent.

Then it was with a lump in your belly that you listened to your older brother's last statement about how these poor innocent women were to be exterminated. The next moment, dozens of heavily armed FBI agents had entered the basement, killing anyone who tried to resist. All except Kai, Beverly... and you.

The car that was driving you away from home was not going particularly fast. The flashing lights flickered in the dark night and, for the first time in weeks, you finally felt safe, though still deeply shocked.

In the interrogation room, a few hours after your arrest, two agents asked you a bunch of questions about the cult, Kai, Winter, your involvement in the murder spree, and a bunch of other misdeeds you had never heard of. You were not a liar, so the answers to these questions were made up of your truth. From the murder-suicide of your parents, to Winter's recent death, you hid nothing.

And at the end of your long explanatory monologue, tears had finally rolled down your cheeks. They had nothing to do with anything that had happened. You had only finally realized that you were finally tasting a form of freedom. You had not seen a doctor in a long time, and although your own health did not seem to be a problem, your baby's was.

A few weeks later, after a short visit before a whole flock of doctors, psychologists and psychiatrists, a magistrate heard your testimony again.

Collateral victim. That's what this law enforcement officer had written on your report. Not having taken part in any of the murders, because you were considered too young by your older brother, your minority added more credence to her conclusion. No one in the Anderson family was able to provide a home for you. Your mental state left something to be desired, however, and a place became available in a local mental hospital.

"Y/N? The commercial is almost over, we will resume in a few moments." Once again, the announcer's voice brought you back to real life.

"We are back with Y/N Anderson, a member of the cult of the notorious sociopath Kai Anderson." The more words came out of her mouth, the more the frustration of not being able to prove who Kai really was took hold of you. The interview continued for nearly two more hours. Two hours during which Lana Winters asks you to explain the functioning of the cult, what you were doing there and all the usefulness of all the elements brought to light by the police. Lastly, she questioned you on your current relationship with Ally.

"After Kai was arrested, I was sent to a mental hospital. Ally visited me, I don't know if it was a publicity stunt for the election or a genuine empathetic gesture. I could already see the headlines the next day...the woman who had helped dismantle one of Michigan's most prolific cults was coming back to pardon one of its former members. She offered to get me out of this ghoulish place, I think you know what I'm talking about. She wanted to put me up while I could bounce back, I refused at first before accepting a few weeks later."

"So you lived at her house?"

"For a while, a month or two. And then there was Kai's death, the election, Liberty's birth... today I live a pretty quiet life. No one is unaware of what's been going on in the house, but my neighbors are respectful enough not to reveal anything about it when we talk." Exchanging a smile with the host, the latter thanked you before turning to the camera.

"Ladies and Gentlemen, this concludes this unedited interview. Thank you for your loyalty even after so many years. It was Lana Winters, I wish you a good evening."

Back at home, your first instinct was to settle into one of the sofas where someone was already sitting, eyes fixed in front of the television.

"Do you think they suspect anything?" The voice asks you before taking a sip of what looked like beer.

"I think my little act worked, they won't be looking our way." Uncorking a bottle in your turn, it gently clashed with your friend's bottle with the sound of clinking glass.

"Long live to this motherfucking SCUM" Beverly yelled through the living room without caring about waking up your daughter.

[lunarhobbits]

i feel like it's important that everyone know that quinton reviews did NOT make a 38 hour video on The Beverly Hillbillies.

quinton reviews's DAD made a 38 hour video on The Beverly Hillbillies seasons 1-3 (out of 9), Petticoat Junction seasons 1 and 2 (out of 7), related episodes of Mr. Ed, and the radio program Granby's Green Acres.

he hasn't even touched the henningverse media that's in color yet.

[devildaisies]

I never properly put my NADDPOD campaign 1 pixels together!

Good time to remind myself to start an Eldermourne set

[willgrahamscock]

Had a dream that I was in the hospital, and Hannibal came to visit me. We lied next to each other on a couch and he read children's books to me while I rested my head on his shoulder. Woke up sad and touch starved.

[livelovecaliforniadreams]

Happy Hannukah! 🕎

[b1gwings]

god, i love this little fucking weirdo

[stone-stars]

where would i be without the wisdom of the crick? / where would i be without pelor's light?

[ID: A digital illustration of Beverly and Moonshine from naddpod on a black background. They're drawn in opposite orientations, so that when Beverly is right side up, Moonshine is upside down. Both of them have a hand raised towards the center, where bright green outlines of plants and mushrooms sprout in the space between their hands. They're both looking towards the plants, smiling softly. The first illustration has Moonshine oriented upright. She is a crick elf with tan skin and freckles, and long hair in twin braids that is a gradient from pink to orange. She wears a pair of dark blue overalls, and mushrooms sprout from her skin and hair. The outlines of various mushrooms, drawn in light pink, sprout from her into the darkness. The second illustration has Beverly oriented upright. He is a halfling with brown skin and a large x-shaped scar across his face. He has short, fluffy, dark brown hair. He's wearing light green scale mail, with dark green shoulder pauldrons and a handkerchief tied around his neck. The outlines of a pair of wings sprout from his shoulders, and he has small antlers poking through his hair, both drawn in light yellow.]

a @naddpodgifting treat for @quicklings!

[thedarkmongoose]

[newwavesylviaplath]

derry, maine (technically)

[whatthefuckisasweep]

What if the Losers were the Losers of today? :)

Bonus:

[dizzybevvie]

I love all the new npcs they pretend are legacy characters this is such a silly bit

[newsies1992fan]

Michael and Carole

Heavy Traffic, 1973

[the-angry-pixie]

the losers love each other moodboards (23/23) - The Losers/Lovers Club 💘

[completeanduttermess]

everyone: *freaking out about ep 77*

me, a Hannibal and Killing Eve enjoyer: ah yes. The Best Friend Arc™.

[sobeautifullyobsessed]

[excerpt from an upcoming Stephen Strange x Hope Collins fic]

🎄Wrapped Up In Christmas Memories🎄

(Indulge me, if you will? Not sure if I'll be able to complete this story by Christmas, let alone the New Year ~ but the need to write this part is strong upon me, while my loves for Stephen and for Story compell me...)

genre: angst, catharsis, healing...and above all, love ❤️

characters: Stephen Strange, Hope Collins (OFC); established relationship

word count: 1.2k-ish

...Beverly Strange had been a music teacher before she ever became a farmer's wife. And for most of her life--despite how stony her husband grew over the years, grimly implacable in the face of what he found to be frivolous--she had done her best to fill their household with music. It was no fluke that Stephen developed such a great love for music that his prodigious intellect maintained a mental catalog of music trivia encompassing multiple genres.

Beverly had given private piano lessons as much for fulfillment as for the extra money the family had needed in lean years on the farm. Until the birth of Stephen's younger brother Victor, she had volunteered as Choir Director at the community's small Lutheran church. Stephen could remember spending many an afternoon in the weeks leading up to Christmas and Easter in the choir loft, coloring quietly and humming along while Beverly conducted practice. Once her youngest child, Donna, had been old enough to sit in a church pew under Stephen's supervision (for their father rarely attended weekly services) Beverly had resumed a place in the choir and was often featured as a soloist during the holidays. Stephen had been damn proud watching his mother sing her favorite carol, 'Oh, Holy Night'; how straight she had stood, free of his father's angry shadow, and of how flawlessly (to him, anyway) her notes had risen--in his child's mind he had been sure they had reached Heaven itself.

Most of all, though, he had always been proud to see when some parishioner or another was moved to tears by the purity of her rendition. Decades later, he could easily recall that feeling if he allowed himself to remember, could hear her in his mind--but the pain of Donna's death and the toll it wreaked upon his mother usually precluded him from indulging in such sentimental recall. Beverly's music had fallen mute the day his sister had drowned; she had never sung in church again, nor had Stephen ever heard her sing in their own home in the too short years that followed before her grief prematurely aged her into an early grave.

Stephen himself had adopted a stoic mien in the wake of losing Donna, internalizing the blame he felt for failing to save her, and by extension, their mother. Nearly two decades later, it still hurt too damn much to remember the first--and very rare--people who had loved him unconditionally, as both had been lost to him well before their time. And as his most vibrant memories of them included Christmastimes, he had turned his back on all but the most superficial of holiday celebrations.

He kept his painful thoughts and memories buried deep and had only confessed them to Christine (whom he realized in retrospect was the third soul to have loved him unconditionally) one sloppy, drunken night two months after his accident. She had given him what solace she could, gently urging him to not be so hard on himself, reminding him that both Donna and Beverly would wish for him to seek some healing, and staying with him until he drifted into a dreamless sleep. When she returned to check on him the next day, he had closed himself off again, rejecting her concern as unnecessary. Brushing off the incident as impertinent to his current life and goals.

But now...oh now! A wee bit at a time, Hope--who loved him as unconditionally as his past dear ones--had been chipping away at that wall. Reintroducing Christmas into his life by osmosis, without a hint of pressure for him to embrace the season. As she'd promised four weeks ago, she'd gone about her Christmasing without the sort of fuss that might bother him. With each little Yuletide advance she had made in the Sanctum, he had found himself relaxing and accepting, smiling in concession, happy to play witness to her happiness in the season.

Christmas was still a week away, and Stephen had begun contemplating what sort of gift he might manage for his own Who-girl. He hoped to find a gift that spoke his heart clearly, but each idea that came to him fell flat soon after he thought it up.

Settled comfortably in his study this evening, he was delving into a freshly discovered manuscript that appeared to have been penned by The Ancient One when she had been apprenticed to Merlin, during his tenure as the Londinium Sanctum Master. Though it should have been a fascinating read, Stephen found himself distracted by the question of what to give Hope--and by the carols she was playing in the living room portion of his quarters. Celtic Woman, he told himself with no effort to recall the facts; released October 2006, peak chart position number one on Billboard for US Worldwide Albums. The trilling of the all female group was pleasant enough, but not at all conducive to the study he was attempting.

Meaning to simply ask Hope to lower the volume so he could concentrate, Stephen removed his reading glasses, leaving them to rest atop the open manuscript and then headed the short way to the main room of his suite. The fragrances of cranberry and evergreen greeted him as he drew near, for she'd made a substantial investment in candles for the season, and they were clearly alight as she wrapped presents. Hope was deep in her element and happy to be so.

The music paused between tracks, and when it resumed, it stopped Stephen in his. The opening strains of 'O, Holy Night' filled the air, and in a heartbeat they landed upon him, sending him back to his youth, well before he had known loss and heartbreak. To those crisp, cold Nebraska evenings when his heart had swelled with love and pride to see his mother sing. Unprepared as he was for those powerful images and sounds to fill his senses, Stephen backed away, his eyes prickling with tears of mixed grief and recollection. Tears he'd put off for far too long in his quest to avoid the pain. And yet he knew that just several feet around the corner was the very soul who had given him the exact comfort, love, and strength he'd needed to complete the dreadful journey he had undertaken to save this Universe from Thanos--and that she'd be only too glad to learn this part of his past and help him find healing.

By some remarkable coincidence, or as if she'd heard his thoughts, Hope's answer came unbidden, her voice blending in as though it had been meant to be a message for his ears alone.

'Sweet hymns of joy, in grateful chorus raise we..., ' she sang as his heart seemed to crack open in bittersweet relief. 'Fall on your knees, O hear the angels voices...' Stephen wrapped his arms across his chest while he wept to remember the love and warmth that had been his in the little church and in every moment spent in his mother's company. How had he made himself ignore such a miraculous gift? Surely the joy of it far outweighed the sorrow. How foolish to have gone so long without allowing himself such comfort.

The carol now drew swiftly to it's close, and still his Hope sang sweetly, following the notes faithfully, unaware that she had reawakened a dormant part of his heart. 'O night,' she crooned, in happy harmony with those recorded singers, 'O night divine!' He swiped his tears away with both his palms, deciding he must tell her this part of his story. His reasons for divorcing Christmas from his life. And that he understood at last that every day of this beautiful season, she'd been patiently showing him that love was stronger than even grief...

[to be completed - once I finish the beginning as well!]

tagging: @aeterna-auroral-avenger @strangelock221b @stewardofningishzida @icytrickster17 @ben-locked @lorelei-lee @mousedetective @darsynia @bakerstreethound @hithertoundreamtof23 @rmoonstoner @mckiwi @doctorstrangeaskblog