#might do it into a parallel of how she was dragged down to Computer Hell. maybe have Lily shove her off a building from blind rage and grief

[forthedancingandthethriving]

So, this?

I'm at a legitimate toss-up. While Juliano being dead is a great way of me doing angst since he probably died alone as well.. there's that evil part of him that wants him just barely alive. He's unconscious, hidden somewhere of his own making, but his code absolutely refuses to give in. His code basically stalls itself in a similar situation to Lily.

Though I'm leaning towards him being dead, and Lily stumbling upon his hat and staff. Who knows, though :3

[yeosangsleftbicep]

sand, salt, and tears

series information:

pairing: Johnny x reader, Jaehyun x reader

summary: You have a boring job at the beach for the summer, but one day your life is spiced up after meeting a handsome lifeguard named Johnny and all of his friends.

genre: lifeguard au, summertime romance

warnings/themes: alcohol, drugs, (eventually maybe) smut, fluff, second-lead syndrome (?), angst, love-triangles, jealousy

"I’m here to help, you’re gonna be okay."

Ch.1

warnings: blood (small injury), swearing

word count: 2.1k

next chapter >>

You never intended for the summer between your sophomore and junior years of college to be packed with hard work and stress. In fact, you thought that having a part-time job in a beach town would be quite the opposite. That it would be full of seasonal flings, sunburns, and plenty of time relaxing on the beach enjoying your sappy romance novels. Instead, your absolute bitch of a boss, Cindy, had you working 35 hours a week wiping tables and taking orders, sometimes even being a substitute bartender if it was a busy night. Luckily for you, your best friend Karina also decided to take the plunge into the world of summer waitressing with you, and the two of you had almost every shift together. But still, you would much rather be stretched out underneath the sun right now than punching your 100th order of the morning into the restaurant’s computer system. You sigh aloud at the thought of the salt water lapping at the shore, seagulls flapping around while the local surf rock station plays quietly on the radio in the sand next to you.

“Y/N!!” an obnoxious voice shouts, shaking you out of your seashore reverie. Your eyes refocus just in time to see Cindy storming towards you in anger, her eyes scrunched with a fury that only ever comes out when you’ve messed up. “You’ve been standing there for 2 minutes doing nothing,” she hisses through her teeth. “Pull yourself together. You only have a half hour left on your shift, and then you’re free to be as useless as you want.”

“Sorry,” you mumble under your breath, holding back a sarcastic retort to the last part of Cindy’s criticism. You punch the order into the system and sweep yourself back into the dining room to do rounds and check on the tables that you’ve already served food to.

---

True to her word, Cindy released you from hell 30 minutes later. As quickly as possible, you strip off your apron and change into one of your favorite blue bikinis in the employee bathroom, wanting to hit the beach as soon as possible. You find Karina waiting outside the restaurant in her white Jeep Wrangler, roof and doors removed for the warm summer weather. On the rare days when the two of you don’t share a shift, this is always your routine. Karina picks you up at the end of your 2 o’clock shift and drives the two of you to the beach where you spend the next four hours basking in the sun and body-boarding in the water.

Today is no different, and the two of you soon find yourselves spreading out your towels and slathering yourselves in sunscreen, preparing for an afternoon of the reason you truly came to the small beach town this summer: relaxing. After an hour or so of sunbathing and reading some rather spicy parts of your latest romance novel, you and Karina decide it’s time for a dip in the ocean. “Hey, Y/N, go check what the water temperature is so we can mentally prepare ourselves before turning into popsicles in the ocean,” Karina giggles, gesturing towards the nearest lifeguard stand. You nod in agreement and make your way over to the back of the tall white chair where information such as water temperature and high tide is usually posted. As you near the stand however, you notice that instead of temperatures and warnings, someone had written the words ‘Ask me!’ over the chalkboard.

You glance up at the lifeguard to try and catch their eye, but an umbrella has been propped sideways to block a northward wind, preventing you from being able to see the person sitting there. “Excuse me!” you shout, hand shielding your eyes from the sun as you make your way around to the front of the stand. “Is everything okay?” a gentle voice responds. The lifeguard, a rather lanky, handsome man with black hair brushing the top of his ears, leans over. “Everything’s fine,” you respond with a timid smile. “I was just wondering what the water temperature is?”

The man’s form visibly relaxes as he realizes that there was no emergency and you just wanted some information. “Oh! Yeah, the temperature is 67°,” the lifeguard responds.

“Okay, thank you!” you shout, turning away to walk back to where Karina was waiting.

“Wait! Are you planning on boarding at all?” he asks, forcing you to turn around. He glances over at Karina and the boogie boards lying on the sand next to her while she watches us.

“Um, yeah. Is that okay?” you respond, placing your hands on your hips.

“Of course, of course! You should just know that there’s some serious undertow and a pretty strong rip current in this area today. If you get pulled out just swim parallel to the beach to get back in or signal if you need help,” he smiles helpfully.

“Oh. Thanks, but I think I’ll be okay,” you nod. “I’ve been coming to this beach and boarding since I was a little kid.”

The lifeguard just shrugs and sits down, but you can feel his eyes on you and Karina as the two of you grab your boards and dive into the frigid waves. Unfortunately for you, the lifeguard was quite right about the strong currents, and you spent half of your time in the water struggling to not be dragged down the entire length of the beach. After about a half hour of unsuccessfully attempting to catch some waves, Karina sighs and starts to swim in. “Maybe tomorrow will be better conditions. Neither of us are working so we can be out here all day if you want,” she exclaims, always the optimist. “Ok,” you reply. “I’m going to stay out here a little longer and then head in. Do you mind taking my board?”

You un-velcro the strap from your wrist and push the board towards Karina for her to drag it onto the sand. As soon as you let go of the board, you begin to realize just how much you were relying on it to keep you afloat in the strong current, especially considering you aren’t in an area where you can touch the bottom. After just a couple of minutes of treading water, you decide to follow Karina’s idea and begin to swim towards the shore. Karina sees you making her way towards her, but she waves her hands and shouts, pointing to the ocean behind you. A quick glance tells you that there’s a massive wave just seconds away from crashing on your head. “Shit,”  you curse, turning around and bracing yourself to be pommeled. Had you been farther out, you might have been given the chance to dive under the wave as it crested, but you were in the exact area that, when the wave finally arrived, the only thing you could do was take a deep breath and hope for the best.

As the wave crashes around you and catches you in it’s white waters, you tuck your knees into your chest, feeling yourself bounce around, your shins catching the sharp shells and rocks being thrown around you. After what feels like forever, you finally resurface, gasping for breath and a little red-faced from the embarrassment of wiping out, but still alive. And yet, something felt weird. As you catalogue your surroundings, you notice that you are farther from the shore than you were when you went under. Much farther. You try to plant your feet on the sand beneath you, but instead begin to sink below the surface. Having been tired out from fighting the waves for the past hour, you begin to panic, forgetting everything that the lifeguard had just told you about swimming out of rip currents.

In your own panicking and splashing around, you fail to notice someone swimming towards you. Someone wearing red swimming trunks with a bright orange buoy tied around their waist. When the lifeguard finally reaches you, he grabs your wrist to place your hand on the float, causing you to scream out in surprise, still not realizing that someone was there to save you.

“Shhh, shhhh calm down it’s okay,” the lifeguard says, reaching for your hand again. “I’m here to help, you’re gonna be okay.”

You try your hardest to hold in your tears as you grip onto the lifeguard’s buoy, but you feel like you can barely breath from the panic that you just experienced. You squeeze the orange plastic so tightly that your knuckles turn white, something that the lifeguard is quick to notice. “You’re going to be okay,” he once again reassures you. “What’s your name?” he asks in a soothing voice.

After a few deep gasps, you’re able to get out, “Y/N.”

The man smiles. “Hi, Y/N. I’m Johnny. I’m going to get you back to solid ground, okay? But I’m going to need you to stay calm for me, okay? Or else it’s going to be a lot harder for me.”

Unable to respond, you just rapidly shake your head, eager to have your feet touching the earth again. Johnny places one of his hands on the other side of the buoy, and uses his right arm to begin towing you back towards the shore. In no time, the water grows lighter as you and Johnny cut through the water, eventually reaching an area where you can once again stand. “Are you okay?” he asks, turning towards you with a worried sound to his voice. You once again nod, embarrassed to meet his eyes and not trusting your voice to be stable if you spoke.

Johnny gives you a once over, his eyes lingering on your knee. You follow his gaze and notice that during the wave, a shell must have gashed your leg open, and a steady flow of blood is now streaming through the cut on your knee. “Why don’t you come up to my stand and let me check that out?” Johnny asks, although it comes out as more of a command. “O-Okay,” you whisper. He places a steadying hand on your back and guides you up the sand to where Karina is waiting for you. “Oh. My. God,” Karina shrieks, seeing the injury on your leg. “She’ll be fine,” Johnny comments to her. “I just want to clean and bandage the cut to make sure that it doesn’t get infected.”

He guides you to sit down on a foldable chair at the base of the lifeguard stand while he climbs up to get a medical kit. “This might sting a bit,” Johnny apologizes in advance, opening the bag to pull out an alcohol wipe. “It’s okay, I can handle it,” you grimace.

“Just like you said you can handle the ocean?” Johnny asks, looking up with a small grin. “Sorry, too soon.”

“For your information,” you begin. “I would ordinarily be able to deal with that wave, no problem. I just wasn’t ready.”

“Mm-hm. I’m sure,” Johnny nods sarcastically.

“Hey,” you frown. “You don’t know me well enough to be making fun of me- HOLY SHIT THAT HURTS!”

You glance down to see Johnny dabbing at the wound on your leg with the cleansing cloth. “Sorry,” he grimaces. “I did try to warn you.”

Johnny goes to wipe at the cut again, another wave of pain rolling over you. You involuntarily reach out to squeeze the closest thing, which happens to be Johnny’s bare back as he’s bent over your knee. “Jesus, woman,” Johnny swears, pulling away as your nails dig into his skin in pain. Your hands shoot up to cover your mouth. “I’m so sorry!” you squeak. He sucks air in quickly through his teeth as he glances over his shoulder to look at the scratches you left on him. “I normally have to buy someone a few drinks before I get them to mark me like that,” he chuckles, turning his attention back to your leg, which he begins to cover with a bandage.

Your cheeks color a bright red at the suggestive comment, although luckily Johnny doesn’t glance up at that moment to see your embarrassment.

“There. All done,” Johnny says, gently patting your knee and standing up. “The next time I tell you to watch out for the rip, listen to me,” he orders, raising an eyebrow at me. “Yessir,” you say seriously, giving him a sarcastic little salute. Johnny’s grins. “I’ll see you around, Y/N.”

“See you around, Johnny,” you respond, slowly limping your way back to Karina.

next chapter >>

a/n: Please like if you enjoyed it so I know whether to keep writing!

[andmaybegayer]

Last Monday of the Week: 2021-03-01

First Monday of the Month. My boss just quit at work which means I'm now the only formally trained engineer left who has any particular specialization in embedded systems. This week is going to be a doozy.

I also wrote a Very Long set of media updates because I’ve been consuming some stuff that makes me think a lot. Never a good sign.

Listening: I spent all of Saturday playing Minecraft after talking with some friends about it during the week on IRC. Practicing what I preach with regards to my Large Biome Supermacy policy, which does involve a lot of walking. Hence, I started catching up on The Adventure Zone: Graduation again, I'm like ten episodes behind.

https://maximumfun.org/episodes/adventure-zone/the-adventure-zone-graduation-ep-32-by-a-haircut/

I don't really enjoy Travis' DM'ing style. It's very loose and he has a tendency to let players run wild without much structure which is a tricky thing to handle. He does a lot of worldbuilding and character design but doesn't seem to plan much in the way of arcs. That pays off sometimes (returning to the school to realize they broke a promise they made a few sessions earlier and had to deal with consequences, for example) and when it does, it’s really good, but it's finnicky. I know DM's who can do that, but, well, actually I know One Single DM who can do that well and she's absurdly smart.

Reading: Still on Worm, I just got past chapter 8 or so now. It lives in my phone browser so I've mostly been reading it whenever I get some spare time, which is a good sign. If a book doesn't grab me I need to really settle down in a quiet space to avoid getting distracted, but I can read Worm while someone else is on the phone in the same room.

It is a story with a lot of very well-conveyed feelings and events. It's very easy to imagine yourself in it. Characters actually act like they care about what they're doing, I feel like writing this took a lot of care to keep everyone on model.

There's also a certain care given to the superpowers that you'd usually only see in forum posts arguing about an actual superhero story. Everyone always likes to argue about how far you can push a superpower: can you use teleporting to fly? What prevents a speedster from catching fire in the air? Where does the energy for a  pyrokinetic ability come from? Worm takes these and runs with them as a way to make absolutely any fight become a series of gambits relying on whether a power can or cannot be used to perform some high-stakes trick.

The world certainly has some underpinning contrivances to explain why no one gets killed very often but I've always considered nitpicking the base contrivances of a setting silly, because that's precisely what they are: contrived, in order to allow the rest of the story to flow from there. Like arguing about Omega’s abilities in the famous thought experi-*I am dragged off stage by the ratblr police for making a by now extremely stale joke*

Watching: I came and edited this section in like an hour before this posts because I keep on forgetting to put it in. I don’t really like watching TV and with my parents stuck at home in Pandemic Times it’s how they pass the time.

I did finish S3 of the Good Place. It’s very funny. I’m glad I’m watching it and I’m going to have to go find S4 because ZA Netflix doesn’t have it for whatever reason. It feels a little like it was written by Phillip Pullman if Phillip Pullman was a comedy TV writer.

I also really enjoyed the PBS Spacetime video about how time causes gravity. Love when an explanation of concepts is good enough that you drawn the conclusion on your own.

Playing: Visual Novel Hell plus Minecraft.

I spent approximately seven hours in Minecraft over two days. I tend to hop in and out of games for 1-2 hours at a time but there's a handful that can suck me in for an entire day. Minecraft, Warframe, Horizon Zero Dawn, Night in the Woods. Bastion, to a lesser extent. I end up avoiding them because I don't like loosing entire days, but I wasn't really planning on doing anything this weekend anyways.

Minecraft was mostly a long-ass trek to find a saddle, because as previously mentioned, I enjoy playing it with Large Biomes for the sense of scale.

I also completed Act 3 of Psycholonials and Eliza.

Psycholonials is odd. It is doing the thing that Hussie does where it dances around what's ostensibly the story to carry out the actual story. You get used to the trope after your first encounter but it still makes you wonder when the other shoe will drop, and of course, there's no reason it ever has to. The story may remain in suspended animation behind the every growing mess of narrative red tape tying the B-plot together.

Stories about Social Media have no well established norms. I think I might pick up Feed by M. T. Anderson and also perhaps Hank Green's books sometime. See what context they set that in.

Eliza is frustrating to me. It's a game for programmers, by programmers, about programmers. I'm friends with a lot of Capital P Programmers, the types who go to university and get sniped for developer positions at Seattle or Silicon Valley tech companies and who make great and terrible things and then warn you about the deep problems that underpin the slowly rolling ball of venture capital and bloated technology that is the tech industry. But at the same time, it makes me feel like I've burnt out on that conceptually before I even went in. It’s a whole other world that I’m familiar with but very distant from. In fact, that’s kinda how I feel about Psycholonials too. I’m familiar with the social media rat race but I also don’t go there. Parallels!

My cousins (who are halfway to Capital P Programmers, only so much you can do halfway around the world from silicon valley) warned me not to go into CS, because it would bore me, and that's a non-trivial part of why I'm in Engineering. They gave the same advice about Biology and Physics, without that I may have ended up in Microbiology. it’s not my domain, but because of how Engineering is going, you end up a lot closer to programmers than you think. I found out the other day that most of the software developers on my team have no formal tertiary qualifications, which is accepted in CS but of course, right out when it comes to engineering. It’s a whole other world that I kinda expected to skip around. I might go into this another time, since this post is already getting long.

Making: I haven’t done any engineering scicomm posts on here in a while so I started a few blank drafts and finally got one off the ground. With some luck I’ll have that ready this week. What’s it about? Not saying! It might change!

I’ve been doing layout for a custom keyboard, I need to call a laser cutting place and find out what their kerf requirements are so I can adjust the path accordingly. Wouldn’t do to burn a couple hundred rand on an oversized part, I’m paying for this, not my employer like the other times I’ve done laser cutting, so I’m probably not going to spring for getting one of their designers to check my design. At some point I should CAD up a chassis, but at the same time I might just buy some wood and go ham with a router once I get the plates cut.

Computers Slot: I got WeeChat set up properly on my desktop, which technically was just a matter of getting my SSH keys moved over. It’s taking me forever to move in to Cinnabar, in part because Stibnite lost her boot partition and I haven’t bothered to fix it.

So here’s a pitch for WeeChat as a good quality Terminal UI IRC Client. Many of my closest friends live there and it has a good set of tools to help me keep in touch.

WeeChat is very configurable but with perfectly sane defaults, I didn’t configure it for years. The UI is smarter and less arcane than something like irssi, and if you enable mouse support it can be downright modern. Running it remotely like this limits some features but as long as you don’t mind jumping through a few hoops to do filesharing, IRC is really great like this.

One of the big ones is the ability to do that double-pane thing, I can keep an eye on two channels at once (really as many as I can cram on my screen, but usually two) which is great when you want to browse channels while talking in your home channel.

It also has a good array of remote access tools, from what I’m running up there, just weechat running on my server inside tmux connected over mosh for low-latency SSH, to weechat-relay, a relay protocol built in to weechat. At the moment relay only supports android phones and the glowingbear web client, but I’ve never really looked around since both of those cover all my needs. Easily one of the best ways to get IRC on a modern mobile device, barring maybe IRCCloud.

[cynnied-writes]

Perfect Imperfections

○ paring: kralsei ( kris x ralsei )

○ genre/warnings: pure unadulterated fluff with a bit of angst

○ tags: sunrises | worrying over dates | imperfection | early morning drives | sitting on mountaintops | sweet kisses | sun showers

○ word count: 3.5k

→ summary: ralsei is coming to visit and, after days of deliberation, kris knows exactly where to bring him.

○  note: so this is the kralsei thing I said I was working on over on @cynnied-art. I hope you enjoy!

Kris’ hometown was a barren land of clinical depression and midlife crises. Filled to the brim with literally nothing to do.

And yes, they’ve checked.

All you can do is; eat at the diner, hang out in the school’s playground, stare at the lake for hours… Get a concussion? Soon realize that, in the grand scheme of the universe, nothing you do will ever matter? Oh, there’s also a pizza place that doesn’t technically even serve pizza.

This is the bad place if you were wondering.

For Kris, this was all common knowledge. They had known this since they were twelve. And yet here they were. Still sitting at their computer. Bathed in the pale, artificial glow of the screen at 5 am in the morning. Trying to find something, anything, to do. But, after wasting their finite time on the interwebz, a realization dawned on them. Their search was, in fact, fruitless.

They let out an extended groan. Slumping into their computer chair at the sight of the miles of empty space on Google Maps. This was hopeless. They lived in a tiny town. A tiny town in the middle of nowhere. With the closest city being three long hours away. And if they spent one more minute looking at a screen their eyes would die. 

A softer sigh fell as they pushed away from the desk. Kris stretched as they stood up on wobbly legs. Their bones popping back into place. They exhaled dramatically. Ending the exaggerated motion slouched over like an exhausted Sim.

This was so lame. SO LAME!

Their boyfriend was coming tomorrow and they had nothing special planned. All because of their stupid, boring hometown. Sure, they could laze around on the monkey bars again. Share another milkshake at the diner? Or you know, contemplate the meaning of life for a couple of hours. For the second time. Ralsei wouldn’t mind. But that’s the reason for all the mounting stress.

He wouldn’t care. He’d be happy to spend time with them. The duo could be in the ninth ring of hell and he’d still say it was a pretty good date. He’ll never expect any more than their simple presence. He’s just so…

Perfect.

Too perfect.

And Kris wasn’t. 

Their legs were too long. Hair’s too shaggy. Mannerisms too odd. Mind and soul too fucked up. The immediate willingness to eat moss off a dungeon floor kinda solidified that.

And, yet…

Ralsei still smiled at them with eyes filled with galaxies. Blushed whenever he caught them gazing. Said words that only held a genuine affection. Sang them the kinds of songs only Disney princesses sang to their true loves.

His words might stutter or his lyrics might be on the cheesy side but, man…

These trips to the surface he makes… to visit them? To visit a creepy, loner that could barely hold a conversation? In their mind, there was no other option. His visits had to be special. 

Kris’ feet dragged across their bedroom floor. A hundred percent ready to crash into bed. They shuffled before a strand of light caught them by surprise. Not taking in that tomorrow was now today.

The bright beam stung as Kris ran to close the curtains. Their hands paused, though. Gripping the rough fabric, they peered through the gap between them.

Orange and pink hues blended in the early morning sky. Contrasting against the shadowed tree line, the sun slowly rose. Its rays stretching across the horizon.

Any hint of drowsiness they had slipped into the background. Their soul lost its usual burdensome weight at the sight. Memories from a time almost forgotten reemerged in Kris’ mind.

Sitting high up. So high, it felt like they were in another world. Looking off into the distance. The same orangish colours surrounded them. Cool breezes brought golden leaves with them. Warmth seeped from the knitted scarf around their neck. Warmth seeped from the loved ones who were near. 

Everything was… perfect.

Oh.

In that moment, as they stared out of their window, enchanted by the sunrise, they knew.

They just knew. This was the view Ralsei deserved to see.The two teens snuck out of Kris’ home shy of twenty-four hours later.

The two teens snuck out of Kris’ home shy of twenty-four hours later.

With hands interlocked and fog all around them, they made their way across town. The sharpness of the air filled their noses. They kept their voices hushed and footsteps quick. Up above them the navy blue blanket of the night began to brighten. Slowly changing shades in the sky above.

Ralsei let a yawn escape him.

A few moments ago his steady had the honour of waking his tired form. Though the gesture was as old as time, a heroic knight waking a sleeping princess, this time it wasn’t with a kiss. His knight’s methods involved things like poking his side and harsh whispers. Not exactly fairy tale material but accuracy is a small price to pay.

Especially because he got to experience the wondrous things that are sleepovers. Sleeping in Kris’ room. Sleeping in Kris’ bed. Hogging all the blankets because they smell like sunshine. Kris didn’t seem to appreciate that last one. But, they also didn’t appreciate nice smelling sheets like he did.

Although, one caveat dampened the experience a bit. They had to forgo the “sleeping-in” part of a sleepover. No waking up to strands of light coming from the curtains. No smell of breakfast drifting from downstairs.

Nope, only waking up before the sun was even awake and sneaking through the streets. Like a couple of rapscallions.

Guess he still had much to learn.

Their feet finally crunched on fallen leaves as Kris brought him to the Flower King. Or rather, the side of it. His steady let go of his paw, using their spare hand to rummage through their inventory pockets.

Earlier in the day, Kris had waltzed into their father’s shop. Locked in loaded with a puppy-dog grin and years of unused “child of divorce” brownie points. They also maybe over-exaggerated their driving abilities a bit.

Okay, maybe a lot.

But, nonetheless, his truck would be back in its spot before 9 am and in the exact way he left it. As promised. Most likely. As long as they didn’t have to parallel park at any point.

With a startling beep, their father’s truck unlocked. The duo got in and tried to settle into their seats. Both a bit nervous about the endeavour. Kris more about the actual act of driving and Ralsei about the defiance.

He sank into the worn, leather seats as he began to worry. It was one of his oldest pastimes. His thoughts endlessly spinning worse and worse outcomes of his current situation.

This excursion couldn’t end well, right? There were a thousand different ways it could all go wrong.

Before he could spiral down any further, Ralsei jumped out of his thoughts as the old truck burst to life. The engine began to rumble. All the tiny lights and icons along the dash started flickering. While the soothing tones of John Denver drifted through the radio.

“Are you sure about this, Kris?”

They glanced up from adjusting the driver’s seat height to their size instead of their father’s. They tilted their head as a simple reply.

“Kriiiiiss.” He scolded, understanding their unspoken sentiment. It’s not like he didn’t know they were a teen of few words before they had started dating.

Continuing their silence, Kris’ head only tilted further. Resembling a ninety-degree angle instead of one belonging to a proper steady. Ralsei sighed, “You know what I mean. There’s no way your mother’s going to be okay with this.”

A shrug for a reply.

“How about we go for breakfast at the dinner from the second time I came? Those checkered things we had were pretty tasty. Waffles, right?”

A small grimace, this time.

“Or how about that strange P‘e’zza place? I’ve never had ice pizza before.”

“You’ve never had any kind of pizza before,” Kris said, their voice filled with confusion and disgust. So, now their words came out. Of course. They continued to mutter, “You’re first pizza isn’t gonna be a goddamn Ice P‘e’zza. Not while I’m still breathing.”

Ralsei flashed a small smile as he put his paws up in defence. Soft chuckles falling from his lips.

“It’s just…” He barely said before his sentence trailed off. Gaze turning to the sleeping world outside of his window. Kris reached over to take his paw and intertwined their fingers. Urging him to continue. “I don’t want to cause a fuss, Kris. I don’t want to… Your mother’s going to be so upset if she finds out. She’s going to punish you for an eternity. She’s going to—”

“Be ecstatic.” They said, drawing intricate circles into his fur. “I’m with ‘friends’, remember? She won’t mind.”

“That excuse isn’t going to work forever.”

Kris’ hand lingered with his as their head settled forwards. Staring off into the foggy woods. Easily drifting into deep thought.

Sure, it was a matter of when and not if their mother would ever figure out what was going on. No doubt. There was only so long she could believe whatever she wanted to believe. But, that day wasn’t today and thus that was a problem for future Kris, not them.

That kid’s fucked.

Themselves on the other hand? Present Kris? They had something spectacular to show their lonely prince. No strict rules or possible eternal damnation was going to stop them.

“Don’t worry, Rals.” They drawled as they took their prince’s fluffy face into their hands. “Future Kris’ got it handled.”

Now it was Ralsei’s turn to do the head tilting. His words coming out as jumbled as the thoughts in his head.

“Future Kri—What do you—? Futur—? Are you—?” He almost finished a single thought before Kris ducked under his hat and gently kissed his cheek.

They pulled back, flashed him a quick finger-gun-smirk combo, and put the truck into reverse. Letting out a chuckle as his love pulled up his scarf and down his hat. Hopelessly trying to cover his blush.

His steady was weird. A good kind of weird, though.

One that urged them to word for word recite the passage ‘Alas, Poor Yorick’ for no reason. The kind that allowed them to remember the rules to a satanic ritual but not the order of operations. A special kind of weird that caused them to resign to shackle themselves to a dungeon wall and eat floor moss.

They were all things he loved about them but, they were weird nonetheless.

Don’t get him wrong, he’s eternally grateful for Kris falling that day. He thanks the pillar of darkness every day. But, it’s just that any kind of kisses from them was so overwhelming. The simple act causing his cheeks to match his scarf’s hue. Though, he never complained because they also always calmed him like magic.

Why was being in love was so complicated?

Luckily, it was less complicated than driving. Of which the basic mechanics were entirely lost to him.

The truck jostled along the dirt road. Its headlights the illuminating the surrounding foggy woods as they went.

Kris’ knuckles had turned white a few miles back. Changing shades as they had turned off of paved streets and onto rougher terrain. Through their shaggy bangs, lidded eyes had never once deviated from the road. Perhaps they were being too cautious. Too wary. But, how could they not be? They were carrying the most precious cargo.

At just the thought of him, their eyes flicked to Ralsei curled up on his seat. Gaze settled outside his window. Intently watching the world rush by. Yawning every so often.

A small smile graced their face. They leaned back in their seat and released some of the tension in their fingers. Settling into a focused-yet-more-relaxed driving mode.

The road ahead got tighter as it began to curve. Letting them ‘round the side of one of Appalachia’s many mountains. Engine rumbling as they went. Luckily, for them, the truck had made this trip several times. Though they hadn’t been in the driver’s seat.

Glimpses of the past revealed themselves as their destination grew closer. A dozing Asriel sitting beside them. Eyes and head drooping as he fought back the dastardly enemy that was sleep. Their parents in the front seats, both humming along to the turned down the radio.

That’s when they saw it.

A nice patch of the mountainside overlooked valleys below. Tall, wild grass with flowers sprouting up in patches. They pulled up. Easing the truck to a full stop a couple meters from the optimal gazing spot.

Their whole body relaxed, finally. Head lolling back onto the headrest. Letting out a breath and closing their eyes. Knowing they made the trip here safely.

“We’re here?” Ralsei asked, yawning as his bones cracked while he stretched.

They threw him a lazy thumbs-up and clicked their tongue. Catching his yawn before holding out a hand, “Specs, please.”

His head and eyebrows cocked at their request. The urge to ask at least several questions rising in him. But, knowing Kris, they wouldn’t answer any of them.

With a sigh, he let the world turn blurry as he handed his glasses away. Soon after, scarred digits took a hold of his scarf, pulling it loose. Guiding it from his neck to cover his eyes. Before the world went dark as they tied a tight knot at the back.

Now, sound and touch were all he had to go on. Kris’ soft hum once they were finished tying. The clicks of their seat belts unbuckling and the whirring of them gliding back into place. A thunk as their door of the truck swung open. Another as his side opened.

Their hands guiding him out of the vehicle and over to an unknown spot. The dewy grass under his paws and roundness of the air. And finally, the familiar weight of his glasses returning.

He blinked once and then twice before his jaw dropped.

A golden world awaited him.

The sky he had fawned over weeks prior seemed so much more expansive. Stretching from the ends of the earth, blanketing everything around them in a warm hue. Streaks of orange, red, and yellow danced along it. Like a painter’s brush strokes. All independent at times. Before blending together to make the wondrous painting in front of him. Light, fluffy clouds lazily drifted across the background.

And in the center of it all?

A thing, once upon a time, he’d never thought he’d get to see.

The Lightners’ brightest star.

No, it was his too now.

Their brightest star. Their most prized possession rose from the horizon. Slowly but surely making its way to its throne in the heavens. Lighting up their little corner of the world. Not that he could quite remember it wasn’t just him and the celestial body. No, as he gazed upon the sun and a wave of serenity washed over him, it felt like there was no one else left on Earth.

Wait, there was someone else with them.

Ralsei pulled his sight away from his new friend to his real-life company. His silent knight.

Kris sat close beside. Their form bathed in the rays as they sprawled out in the tall grass. Golden light illuminating their whole body. Creating a god-like glow around them. At last, they seemed to be at peace. Then, as their head lolled back, their long bangs fell to either side. Revealing the gems they kept hidden from the world.

An occurrence rarer than any blue moon.

Maroon irises admired the painting before them. They were filled with something he couldn’t quite place. Contentment? Amazement? Nostalgia? Whatever it was, when their eyes drifted from the sunrise over to him, it was still there.

Oh…

Perhaps it was love.

He still had to come to terms with that fact. That somebody alive and sentient loved him. Somebody as wonderful as Kris loved a wreck like him. A tiny ball of nerves and anxiety. Terrified of falling too fast and too hard. Being too needy. Too much much of a bother. Being too… everything. And not being what Kris needed.

But,

They never seemed to mind.

They always were an attentive listener to all his rambling but, always knew the right time to stop him. Lest he enters a perpetually downward spiral.

They were one hundred percent willing to become the hero that he needed. Not questioning ludicrous, reality breaking implications for anything he told them.

And when they were ready, Kris would talk for hours.

About stories from when they were younger.

Barely believable conspiracy theories.

Loosely connected thoughts stringed together profoundly.

They were just so perfect.

And this, the sneaking out in the early morning, the quiet drive, and the sunset. It was all just so…

Perfect.

Kris reached out and laced their fingers together again. Pulling him out of his thoughts. Right on time as always. They gazed at him with, his throat tightened, love-filled eyes. Their usual neutral expression replaced with upturned lips and those softened gems.

Oh, darkness, don’t cry.

Don’t cry, Ralsei.

Don’t cry.

Don’t—

Dammit.

“Kris,” He choked out as tears began to well. They threatened to fall and ruin this perfect moment. Kris’ perfect moment for him. No, he had to pull himself together. “This is, this is. It’s…”

Yep, stuttering is a surefire sign of someone who’s totally not on the verge of a breakdown. So embarrassing. SO EMBARRASSING!

“Rals,” They began softly. Eyes squinting as they searched for the right words. “It’s… okay. Tears of joy, right? It’s okay. You’re okay.”

Not helping. Not helping at all.

“Oh, damn it all.” He cursed as he mustered up all the courage he had. Within the second, he bounded over to his steady. His beloved hat falling to the wayside as he wrapped his arms around them. Burrowing his nose into their neck. Inhaling their piney scent as he blurted out, “Thank you, thank you, thank you, thank you!”

The two stayed like that for a while. Enjoying each other’s body heat and tight holds. But, all good things must come to an end. And this good thing ended once he pulled back. Quickly realizing their current position.

His arms rested linked on their shoulders as he sat in their lap. And with their hands settled on his hips, their bodies were close.

Super close.

Close enough for a… kiss?

Yes, Kris thought as their hand made its way up to his cheek. Close enough to stare into his galaxies for eyes. Close enough to breathe the same air. Close enough for his head to block out the morning sun. Creating a glowing halo around him.

Definitely close enough.

Also, definitely a perfect way to punctuate their date.

But, alas,

Mother Nature had another idea in mind.

“Was that a raindrop?” Ralsei blinked and shook the excess wetness off of his snout. He rose from their lap to scan the horizon. Brows furrowed as he adjusted his glasses, “But, there aren’t any clouds?”

Despite the obvious lack of cloud coverage, rain began to pour down on them.

Kris, reluctantly, got to their feet. Their fingers ran through their messy brown locks as they closed their eyes. At least they got their sunrise.

With a deep sigh, they called out to their love, “We… should get back. Sorry about this.”

“Why?” Their eyes shot open at his question. That’s when they saw him. Spinning around on the balls of his feet as his giggles resounded through the air. His arms swung and legs kicked as he jaunted around the field. “This is amazing! How weird is this! Raining while the sun’s still shining! I’ve never heard of this. What is this, Kris?”

Oh.

My.

God.

He wasn’t upset?

“Sun showers,” They answered like a ditz. Their mind still running wild. Trying to comprehend how he could be this happy about it raining on their perfect date. “They, uh, happen sometimes. You don’t want to go?”

“No! I love it!” Hat long forgotten, he ran up to them, eyes a glow. Hands outstretched until they intertwined with theirs. “Dance with me!”

It was less of a question and more of a demand, not that they minded though. With all his might, Ralsei swung them around the wild grass. Dancing something between the waltz and a folksy jig. Loudly humming out a familiar tune. Soon, their laughs joined his humming. Until both faded and only the gentle beats of the rain were left.

They were close once more.

Super close.

Now or never.

Kris straightened their back and cleared their throat before asking, “Do you, maybe, want to—”

“Yes.” He cut them off, a look of pure unadulterated love on his face.

And then, they did it.

They kissed.

It technically wasn't a perfect kiss. The rain continued to beat down. Their now soaked clothes uncomfortably clung to their bodies. His fur wasn’t as soft and fluffy as it usually was. It was more damp and kinda spiky. Their skin somehow felt sweaty and tight. But,

None of that mattered.

Nope. Not to them.

Somehow, like everything else about the two of them, it was perfect.

Perhaps, their imperfections were what’s perfect.

At least to them.

And in the end, isn’t that the only thing that matters?

The End!!

I hope you've enjoyed reading this. If you did, any kind of comment would be appreciated! 

I've been working on it for a loooong time. Just glad it's all finished! Finally, I'm free!

[todokori-kun]

(Ok, so I wrote out this super-long message but wifi died when I was submitting it. Tumblr told me I’d lost connection so I’m pretty sure it didn’t reach you.

If it somehow did, though…sorry for sending in another one OTL And sorry this keeps happening, my computer is being really weird ^^;;)

Tysm ;-; I’m glad I’m not annoying you or anything :D Queen Luna is honestly one of my favorite people to talk to as well, though. Thanks for being so amazing and supportive <3

Yep. Ishida’s Back.

I’m honestly not too sure how I feel about this pregnancy though. On one hand, since I never really cared too much about Touka I don’t think I’m going to have a hard time caring for this kid, even if they ARE also Kaneki’s child. I also think this wasn’t really necessary and I don’t want drama between Touken and other ghouls over the child- I want the plot to move forward and to get some questions answered…

However, it is really interesting how this parallels with other parents throughout TG’s story. Touken right now reflects the Yoshimura-Ukina-Eto dynamic, and I’m pretty sure the Touken child is meant to connect to Eto.

See, what I’m thinking about is that TG’s parents have a history of abandoning their children in favor of their ideals, even if they don’t always mean to do so. We have Mado, who was blinded by his black-and-white worldview and ended up dead, Arata, who sacrificed so much for his children that in the end he couldn’t even stay with them, Yoshimura, who left his daughter behind to create Anteiku (no matter if he meant well, it still affected Eto in a negative way and Yoshimura’s actions could be seen as partially selfish; he never considered how Eto would feel about this situation, after all), Kaneki’s mother, who was unable to choose between her child and her sister, and Kaneki himself could also count, having completely abandoned the Qs the moment Arima and Eto gave him the title of ‘One-eyed King’.

The only non-background-character who was actually a good parent is Shachi, I think.

So the question is: will Touken (Kaneki really, Touka seems to have made up her mind completely about this) be able to break this cycle? Will Kaneki choose his child like he wanted his mother to choose him over his aunt? Or will this child become motivation for him? (he’s never been the best candidate for the OEK after all, and he basically admitted to Amon and Seidou that he’s seriously depressed and just doesn’t care)

I’m also curious: pregnancies take a few months, y'know. I sincerely hope there won’t be a time skip. Or a miscarriage, because not only would that be too much for Kaneki and Touka, it would also be bad for the plot (why make Touka pregnant in the first place then?). Maybe the baby will be born in an epilogue or the last chapter. Maybe Kaneki and Touka will die, this kid will become the new OEK and Ishida will make a third TG series. Idk.

Wow, I didn’t intend to make such a long rant ^^;;

I think Thor’s new hairstyle looks cool (sorry Queen Luna) but yeah, it does also look a bit weird on him. Like, now I can’t look at him and think 'oh that’s the god of thunder’, I just think of Chris Hemsworth lol

That typo tho 'Nat and Clit’

Even after all that’s happened in canon, I still feel like Blackhawk have a deep bond and understand each other in a way the rest of the team can’t.

I feel like the fact that Sharon is Peggy’s niece alone makes it a 'NO’ ship XD the lack of development for both the relationship and Sharon as a character just added to that.

As for Loki…ah, well. If he wasn't such a jerk he wouldn’t be Loki.

Oh that sounds really cool :D And well, like I said above. It’s Loki. What can you do.

Haha, thanks ^^ I was obsessed with Bucky’s costume for a while after Winter Soldier. I literally had never heard of Captain America up until then so I didn’t even care about him (sorry Steve…do you still ship me with him? lol). I might actually have had a crush on Bucky at the time. Idk. I was nine(?).

I will drag you into Remember This Cold hell no matter what. It is my MISSION. I WILL make you have feels about Loki’s kitty (Steve got him a cat because he thought he might be lonely). I WILL make you sob over Loki’s redemption arc and his reaction when anyone dares to lay a finger on Steve (SPOILER: when he thinks Steve is dead he teams up with Bucky and absolutely destroys Hydra. When he and Steve are captured and tortured for information he threatens to cut open his own veins and summon a beast with the blood to destroy them all…he’s completely serious about that. One of the major things Steve has to help him with is how he gets desperate and suicidal whenever he thinks he might lose Steve).

Oh, so you won’t talk about Kanae, huh?

With my short existence, I can make a difference- I can be there for him, I can be his knight

Imagine this is Matsumae teaching Kanae about kagune usage and what it means to be a servant of the Tsukiyama family. For bonus angst, imagine that the slip-ups ('do it for her- that is to say, you do it for him’) are Matsumae talking about the late Mrs. Tsukiyama (HC that Matsumae was around when Shuu’s mom was alive, though I guess that’s unlikely considering her age…shush. Just ignore it for the angst.)

Kanae singing the 'I love you’ part from If I Could Tell Her as they fall off the building

Kanae singing 'But what you do when there’s this great divide? And what do you do when the distance is too wide?’ when Shuu is ill

 'I wondered how you learned to dance like all the rest of the world isn’t there’ and 'There’s nothing like your smile, sort of subtle and perfect and real. You never knew how wonderful that smile could make someone feel’ as they remember their memories with Shuu as a child.

'I love him, but every day I’m learning- all my life, I’ve only been pretending’ from On my Own when Eto is torturing Kanae

And then most of 'It’s Over, Isn’t It’ is from Kanae to Sasaki/Kaneki, of course, but then imagine that the chorus ('And she chose you, and she loved you, and she’s gone- it’s over, isn’t it? Why can’t I move on?’) is like a duet between Kanae and Shuu. Kanae’s pining over Shuu, of course, but Shuu’s POV is after Kanae’s death (referring to himself as 'you’).

Hope you liked this :)

But wait, if you knew all of Urie’s songs, that means you know Still Sane…does this mean you’re a Lorde fan? Because I thought Still Sane was one of her lesser-known songs. I’m obsessed with Lorde’s music, so…

And I’m also a fan of Fall out Boy and Marina and the Diamonds. It'd be cool if you listen to them as well :D

Seriously?! Because blue is my favorite color…wow!

I haven’t watched FMA but I know quite a bit about it (the Roy rain jokes are the best lol)…we actually talked on your FMA blog once ^^ And I’m excited to hear about any of Queen Luna’s OCs! I’m sure they’re all amazing :D (hahaha, I can relate about embarrassing old OCs. I can’t think of any right now but I know I have some). I’ll send you a little info about my OCs in a seperate submission, since this one seems to be getting a little long (though I can’t be sure) ^^;;

Oh, all four of those are lovely! I feel like the girl with the yellow hat (top row, left) has the most icon-ish look, if that makes sense? She also reminds of Queen Luna a little bit, idk why XD but that’s just my opinion, all four of those characters would make beautiful icons <3

Yep, your internet did die ^^;; This is the only thing I got from you... So no worries about spamming me ^^

Aww *hugs* I love talking to you a lot, a lot! So if you ever need anything, I’m here ^^ (I’d add gifs, but internet is slow).

The pregnancy is as out of place as that chapter (once again avoiding pervy words hahah). But... if Kaneki’s a ghoul (halfway) and Touka is a full ghoul, why does the baby need human food? I’m gonna assume Kaneki is the dad because I don’t want to think about the other options. 

I, too, think that the ghoul eating human food/human eating ghoul food for the baby to survive is a parallel for Eto, but we all know how that ended, so idk how i feel about it. Maybe the baby will be a cute and healthy kid who’ll live a nice childhood? Hopefully? Pls let me hope. 

Maybe Eto’ll adopt the baby since she knows the feeling of being abandoned and will give it a nice, happy childhood? HOPEFULLY???

Honestly, I don’t remember who Shachi is, so...

*gasp* you wound me... How could you like that hideousness that is the hair (or lack of it). Jk, you’re free to like what you want ^^ I mean, it’s not that bad I guess... I just liked the old version a bit more.  A lot more.

So much for avoiding risqué words.

I think their bond is mostly platonic? I mean, if Clint wasn’t married and didn’t have tons of babies, I’d assume there was more, but this way, I’d like to think it’s more of a brother-sister relationship. Why am I getting Love, Rosie flashbacks ;-;

Don’t tell me Sharon’s another Jane, this time with even less character -.-

I guess I’ll just avoid Civil War as long as possible :))

AS FOR KANAE

That’s my feeling about everything.

Well, my music taste isn’t quite definable by ‘likes this artist’ or anything, because it’s mostly a ‘I’m browsing youtube and I like this song, so i’ll download it’ one. So Still Sane just happens to be there. As for Fallout Boy and Marina, I do have quite a lot of their songs there ^^ But, generally speaking, most of my songs that aren’t idol songs ?uncomfortable cough* tend to go in the rock direction. Sometimes remixes and sometimes songs no one ever heard about, like Texas by Magic Man or Change My Life from Ashes Remain. Also, Holy by Zolita, although I mostly like that song because it’s so different from most songs nowadays. It’s a bit weird, though.

I really, really want to see all your OCs, especially the TG one that suffers a lot :))

Oh god, here’s my most embarrassing one, the FMA one:

Kk, her name’s Arya, she’s an alchemist (of course) and depending on how I felt at the moment, she was either shipped with Roy or Ed. Most of the time, it was Roy, so the info I wrote down was based on that. Is the cliche ‘sarcastic, but actually a huge softie’ character with right about 0 character flaws, other than being stubborn (’But it also helps when she’s suspicious about the homonculi!’). Now, this isn’t so bad. But here’s the best part. She has a stepdad (bc no oc can have a normal, fully functioning family) that tried to ‘merge her with a wolf, giving her enhanced senses and strength and making her hair white + eyes purple’. I still cringe when I think about her. Literal nightmares.

Then we have a soul eater one, where the girl is both a meister and a weapon (which is, by the way, impossible by the laws of that universe, since the souls of the two types differ greatly) AND a witch to top it off.

Thankfully, I never went too far with the looks, the white hair + purple eyes was as far as I went, but I knew to change it to normal (or try to make an excuse *coughwolfcough* if the universe was one where the colours were mostly normal. And I never gave them DDD+ boobies. 

As for the newer ones, I don’t have many, but from the fandoms we share, I have 1 for YoI and 1 for MCU (this one was created yesterday :P )

The YoI one’s name is Nara and she’s a skater from Detroit, therefore Yuuri and Phichit’s rinkmate. Honestly, she’s not that talented at skating, but she does try to make up for it by practicing a lot.  However, she doesn’t magically get better and lands 1st place, she’s content doing her best and just participating in the competitions, since she has a secondary job.

The MCU one’s a bit more mary sueish, but that’s what makes it fun. Kya, her power is ‘manipulating’ animals (well, not manipulating, it’s more along the lines of ‘animals like her and listen to her) and in extreme cases (when she gets very emotional), human manipulation (technically, humans are animals). When she was small, she was experimented on, granting her the powers. However, the faculty was attacked, allowing her to escape. She tried to live a normal life and was actually succeeding, but then Loki attacked New York and lo and behold, she actually managed to do some hero work, so the avengers were like ‘we’re not recruiting you, but you could be useful in the future so we’ll keep an eye on you’. That’s as far as I got, but I do plan on expanding a bit.  Also, probably predictable, but Loki is her love interest ^^;;;;;;

Alrighty, seems like that’ll be my icon ^^ I’ll probably change the general colour scheme of the blog, so don’t be surprised if everything’s different the next time you visit :P  The name definitely stays the same, though.

As for the ‘she reminds you of me’, you couldn’t be more right ^^;;; In the whole Love Live series, she’s the most similar to me looks wise, but also personality wise. A quiet bookworm who’s fine staying in the library whole day hahah I always cry during her character arc, because I relate waaay too much ;-;

Also, completely random, but I’m listening to ‘Merry Go Round of Life’ from Howl’s Moving Castle as I write this and it would actually make a pretty nice waltz song...

[jamlocked]

5, 9, 12, or 18. Or all. :D

Here you go, @summeringminor! Sorry, it’s probs a bit fluffy for your tastes. I’ll try and evil up the other prompts over the weekend.

18: “My parents are visiting - right now”

It isn’t unusual for Jim to ignore text messages on days they’ve arranged to meet. The first time it had happened, Sherlock had been confused - even a touch worried - but had not mentioned it. Jim hadn’t either. The second time he did ask about it, and Jim had looked up from his computer - something he was not supposed to be using when Sherlock was visiting - and said, ‘what? I was in Milan,’ and Sherlock deduced he was supposed to be satisfied with the explanation.

This is the sixth time, and Sherlock has rolled his eyes more than once through the day. He wouldn’t care, but Jim always insists on going to different places and doing different things when they go out, and it’d be helpful to get advance warning for costuming purposes. Maybe that’s why he does it. Last Christmas, he’d been forced to ice skate in his brand new bespoke Spencer Hart suit. Jim had laughed for hours.

They usually meet around six. At quarter-to, Jim has not responded to a single text, and has not supplied an address or place to meet. Sherlock resigns himself to an evening in after all, though they haven’t met in two months and Jim has never failed to show up before. Despite himself, there’s a touch of worry. Anything could have happened, and he’d never know until Mycroft unearthed some sketchy intelligence that suggested maybe, maybe, the infamous James Moriarty had been taken out at last. Sherlock has checked his expression for the polite neutrality he’ll have to convey when that day arrives. He just hopes it never does, and was certainly not planning on it happening on a bright, sunny day in early June.

John leaves for a date of his own, and Sherlock settles himself behind his microscope, telling himself it’s all fine. But then, a buzz in his pocket. It provides an address in Mayfair, and the words, right now. Wear something smart. JM xxx

Sherlock smiles at the phone, showers, and changes into a suit just back from the dry cleaners. It takes forty five minutes from receiving the text, to pressing the buzzer for entry into a flat even Mycroft wouldn’t be able to afford. A new temporary address, he assumes. They’ve been playing this particular game - kind of, sort of, boyfriends - for just over two years, and he still has no idea where Jim lives.

‘Where the bloody hell have you been?’

Jim is wearing tidy black trousers, and a blue shirt with a navy jumper over the top. Sherlock frowns. His hair is…well, longer, for a start. And flopping untidily over one side of his forehead in a casual swoop, with barely any product in it. The builder’s dust on his shows suggests…Islington - no, of course not; Tower Bridge - and there’s a folded leaflet for Madame Tussauds sticking out of his pocket. He has an open bottle of red wine in his hand.

‘-you didn’t text me back. I thought you must be away.’

‘Never mind that. Let’s have a look at you.’ Jim shuts the door behind him, and casts a critical eye down Sherlock’s body. ‘Would it have killed you to wear a tie?’

‘You’re not wearing a tie. Why would I need one if we’re not going out?’

‘I said smart. Oh well, you’ll do. You’ll have to, it’s too late now.’

He turns to re-enter the flat without so much as a kiss hello, which is so unlike him as to signal genuine alarm, so Sherlock stops him with a hand on his bicep. ‘What’s going on?’

‘Nothing much. My parents are visiting, right now. We’re having dinner with them.’

‘- - what?’

Jim rolls his eyes. ‘Don’t make me repeat myself, it’s boring.’

Sherlock is aware he’s blinking rapidly, but can’t seem to make himself stop. ‘Your parents.’

‘Yeeeeeees, that’s what I said. Try to keep up. And make a good impression, will you?’ A flash of a grin. ‘I introduced them to Sebastian once, and they spent six months trying to convince me I was suffering from battered wife syndrome, and wanted me to come and live with them while we got rid of him. I’m not going through that again.’

‘Your parents.’

Jim stares at him for a half a second, then shakes his head irritably. ‘Yes. My parents. Come on.’

***

Dinner is…he’s not sure what it is, because he can’t taste any of it. He’s too stunned at the normal, happy, smiling people sitting across from him, drinking in every word, and beaming every time Jim kisses his cheek or says something nice about him. Maybe it’s partly to do with the fact he’s Sherlock Holmes - his reputation is not exactly unknown to the world, these days - or maybe they really are just that happy to discover their youngest son has found someone at last. They say this more than once. Sherlock has no idea how he’s supposed to respond.

James Moriarty Senior is a tax accountant. Isa Moriarty is a teacher. Was. They’re both retired, and live on the West coast of Ireland. Both of Jim’s brother’s - he has two; Jim has two brothers - live in Dublin. One is retired from the Army, the other does something with trains.

‘But this one was always our shining star, isn’t that right, Jimmy?’

‘Jimmy’ feigns embarrassment, but grins widely all the same. James grins at him, while Isa follows up with a motherly pat to the hand. They are, undeniably, fond.

‘Never thought we’d produce someone like him. A professor! Don’t know where it came from, but there it is. He was always a bright lad.’

Sherlock sips his wine with his face lowered, unsure whether to laugh out loud, or just…not. The opposite. Jim does not kick him under the table, but he can feel he wants to.

‘And now he’s got you, the great detective! We couldn’t be happier for you both, it’s just lovely.’

‘Indeed.’ Sherlock mutters this as he sets his glass down, and decides it’s better not to add anything else. Not until it’s time for dessert, and Jim grabs his hand and drags him to the kitchen to help with the plates.

‘Jim, what on earth-‘

‘Oh, don’t pout, you’re doing fine. Eat some cake and get through coffee, and they’ll be off to their hotel.’

Jim’s puttering around the kitchen, starting the coffee pot, getting plates, finding forks. Sherlock never, in the vast wide stretch of his imagination, thought he’d see the day Jim Moriarty did a single domestic thing.

‘But why did I have to meet them? I didn’t even know you had parents.’

‘Well yes, I can see how you might think I’m a product of immaculate conception. Sorry to burst that bubble, darling. Can you pass me the bottle opener out of that drawer, please?’

Sherlock opens the drawer. There’s a cutlery tray, and the inner workings of what is clearly a small bomb stuffed in next to it. He decides to say nothing about that, and just passes the opener over.

‘Thanks.’

‘And what’s this flat? Have you rented it just to meet your parents for an evening?’

Jim stares at him. ‘No. This is where I live.’

‘- - Jim…’

‘Everything all right in there, boys? Do you need some help?’

‘We’re all right, Mum! Just coming.’

Jim shoots him a look. Sherlock opens his mouth to speak, then shuts it again. Right. Fine. Okay. Good. He paints on a smile, and carries plates out to the table, while Jim follows with an enormous lemon sponge that, it transpires, he made himself.

***

‘It was so lovely to meet you Sherlock, dear. Please do come and visit us, both of you. There’s plenty of space, and the beaches are to die for.’

‘I will. I mean..we will? If Jim-‘

‘Oh, it’s no good asking him, he’s always working. Here’s my number. You phone any time, and we’ll set it up. We’d love to see more of him.’

Sherlock thinks there are only three people in the history of the world who’ve had that thought about Jim, and all of them are standing in this room. He can do nothing but nod, allow Isa to kiss his cheek, and return James’ solid handshake. And then they’re gone, led down to meet their taxi by a chattering Jim. Sherlock watches from the window, and sees him hug and kiss each parent goodbye before they get in the car. He thinks he’s probably fallen into some bizarre parallel universe.

‘Thank God that’s over with.’ Jim blows his cheeks out as he comes back into the flat, and locks the door behind him. ‘If I’d had to visit one more tourist attraction, I’d have blown up Parliament to get the city shut down.’

That’s more like it. Sherlock feels some semblance of normality return, and grabs it desperately in both hands.

‘Why on earth did you make me come?’

‘Because I wanted you to meet them, obviously. Or rather, have them meet you. It’ll get Mum off my back about settling down, and mean I don’t have to hire actors to play the part when they drop in randomly.’

He pulls a face at the rudeness of parents wanting to see their children, and pours more wine. ‘Now come here. I believe we both need that cleansed off our palate.’

‘But-‘

‘Stop it. Let it go.’

‘ - - have I got to introduce you to mine, now?’

Jim’s grin is immediate, and wicked. ‘Yes. As soon as possible. I’m dying to meet your mother.’

‘Bloody hell.’

He can do nothing but accept the wine and, a few seconds later, Jim’s arms sliding around his neck. ‘Drink up, darling,’ he murmurs, and applies his lips to Sherlock’s throat. ‘You’re staying over. As it’s a night of introductions, I think it’s high time you met my bed.’

Well, he thinks, as he downs his wine in two large mouthfuls. At least that’s a situation he knows his way around. Also thanks to Jim, now he comes to think about it.

***

The whole evening nags at him for days. Though he does - with a large degree of trepidation - arrange to bring Jim to his parent’s house for Sunday dinner the week after. It’s in keeping with their unspoken agreement to keep everything equal, so no debts have to be settled at any point.

It goes as well as can be expected. Better, probably. His mother had loved Jim, of course, and both she and his father had been overjoyed that he’d brought someone home at last. Not unlike Jim’s parents. Exactly like Jim’s parents, in fact.

Two days after Sunday dinner, he phones the number Isa gave him. He finds he is not surprised when it doesn’t connect. He just rolls his eyes, and starts a text.

They weren’t real, were they? They were actors. SH

Took you long enough, sweetie. I was actually starting to doubt your mental faculties. JM xxx

Did you set all that up so you could meet my mother, and talk maths with her? SH

Well, how else was I going to get you to set it up? You’d have dragged your feet until they were both in the ground. JM xxx

And Mycroft? SH

Added bonus, but I won’t pretend I’m not delighted. JM xxx

You’re a cock. SH

A big one, even. Are you free tonight? I’m in the mood to show you how big. JM xxx

Sherlock can’t help a smile, and shakes his head.

Yes. SH

Excellent. JM xxx

You realise you now have to introduce me to your real ones. SH

I’m so glad you said that, darling. Same address, 7pm. Wear something smart. JM xxx

- - end.

If anyone’s interested in how the Sunday dinner at casa Holmes went, you can read that here. :)

[sudsybear]

touching

Depression and compassion

  Postmark Oct 24 1985 Cincinnati, OH

 Hi Suzin.

           Boy, were you depressed on Sunday. Depressing Letter. And you sounded depressed last night (wed). I wish there was something I could do to help. Is there? WORK. This week is going so slow. I wish I had some time to go Pintoing. This weekend, however. I will 1) college search 2) do the apartment 3) work on a lot of homework.

After the weekend, things should be significantly easier. Well, I’ve got tons of work to do, so I must get started and mail this letter.

Talk to you soon.

 Love,

Bok

 P.S. I miss you. I love you.

           (Forgot to say those elsewhere.)

  I did terribly in my classes, I felt incredibly guilty about how much money my parents spent. This was one of the most expensive schools in the country, and we didn’t qualify for financial aid or scholarships – I never even filled out a Financial Aid Form. I started a job washing dishware in one of the research labs across campus. I lasted all of two hours. I didn’t bother showing up anymore. I never got a paycheck.

 I had zero motivation to do my required reading or homework. Instead I spent my time skulking around looking for stereos to listen to music and socialize. I was awake all hours of the night, I slept through classes, and I missed Ross like crazy. I couldn’t stand to be alone. Stephen Paul and Jim and others flirted with me constantly, and to win companionship, no matter how temporary, I flirted back; sometimes enthusiastically, sometimes the flirt rang hollow. My moods changed quickly then. I missed Ross, and my floor-mates tried very hard to help me.

 Jim stopped by my room on Sunday mornings, dragging me to Christian worship services. I met caring people there. Jim’s roommate Lawrence was really good to talk with, and we became close friends. Jim’s suitemates, Craig and Bart made me laugh, and Keith was just Keith –  fun to tease.

 Others echoed Ross’ concern about the depressing letter I sent. Mother wrote, “Thanks for the nice letter – I won’t say more or I’ll cry.” And she included some money in the envelope. I asked if we could gather the family to escape to Green Knob for Thanksgiving. When Jack was struggling at Wake Forest, Dad and I met him at Green Knob for a week to sugar the maples. It was a time for Dad and Jack to share hard physical labor, time to be away from distracting influences and meditate. I wanted similar. I called Jack in Allentown to chat. Jack was busy with Pennsylvania Stage Company, putting together the next stage show. Dad was still traveling for work, and Mom also had to work. No one had the time or the inclination to go to Green Knob that year. I reached out to my familiars, I wrote letters, I made phone calls. No one had time to help me. I was left to my own devices. I didn’t do very well on my own.

 *          *          *

 In 2002, I told my couch-guy, “I want a “do-over”.” At any point since August 27th, 1985 I want to change a decision and do it all over again, and see what might have happened. Should I have told Mom and Dad, “I’m not going, and you can’t make me!” Should I have insisted I come home for my grandmother’s funeral? And then stayed? Should I have refused to return to Rochester after October break? But parallel universes and time travel exist only in fiction – unless you want to discuss Einstein’s Theory of Relativity, and even then, time travel isn’t particularly practical.

 What do I think would happen in that do-over? Do I want a different story? A different ending? Is my present life so terrible? Do I think I would be happier? I don’t know. But like George saw in It’s a wonderful life, I wish an angel could show me how my life might have gone. As it is, I’ll never have the reassurance that the decisions I made were the right ones. I’ll always have the nagging feeling that I made a very wrong decision that ultimately resulted in disaster.

 *          *          *

 I continued my nocturnal lifestyle from summer. By this time it was just that – a lifestyle – some might call it a rut. I was rarely asleep before one or two a.m. I dragged myself out of bed in the morning to go to classes. Then I found a comfortable napping situation in the Welles-Brown Room during the afternoons. The couches were quite nap-worthy and I took refuge there many an afternoon. Thus refreshed, I would be once again awake until the wee hours of the morning.

 It wasn’t hard to find companionship after midnight – whether I pretended to work on a paper that was due, or fought with Calculus, someone was always around to distract or encourage me. And between buying rolls of quarters for the washing machines, my sewing kit and the toolbox, there were a lot of visitors to my room. People had a reason to stop by. Another quote that Stephen Paul kept fits in here, “I like sleeping in my room. I’m never sure who I will wake up with.” That came from the comfort people felt even if I didn’t share it. Roz and I furnished our room with comfortable carpeting and pillows. Any given night, a group of us chatted ‘til all hours, and one by one people fell asleep – some stumbled back to their own rooms, but not always. I woke up in the morning (the clock radio blaring Starship’s, “We built this city.” That song received entirely too much airtime on Rochester radio in 1985) and found someone asleep on the floor who wasn’t there when I fell asleep.

 One night, I decided to get drunk. I never was much of a drinker. I can’t stand the taste of beer, don’t like the fuzzy feeling I get in my head, don’t need the empty calories, hate the morning-after scum in my mouth. I’m still not much of a drinker, although a glass of wine or whiskey does go down smoothly on occasion. That night I guess I felt drunkenness was necessary, another way to escape the emotional upheaval. As I recall, Chris prepared some sort of flaming concoction on the desk in his room. It was a layered drink served in shot glasses, in which the final step was to light the top layer on fire. I did not care to drink flames...so the guys, Chris, Stephen Paul and Mike willingly and enthusiastically found an alternative. Perhaps it was peppermint schnapps? Cool and refreshing, like mouthwash. But packed a powerful punch when you drank enough of it.

 I sat on someone's lap in Chris' room and tossed back several shots. And the handwriting tests began. As a geek test of my sobriety, the guys had me write a sentence every fifteen minutes or some such nonsense. (That endeavor ranks high on the geek scale.)  I got the giggles, and then when the room was spinning and I had to pee, I wandered back to my room to sleep it off. Not a very satisfactory drunk. My handwriting didn’t even suffer too badly…

 *          *          *

 Two days before Halloween I had a terrible cold – probably the flu. I was achy, feverish. It hurt like hell to swallow anything. I felt miserable. I hiked up the hill to University Health Service but all they did was a lousy job of taking a throat culture and told me to rest. What a waste of time that was. I just wanted to be home. It didn’t help that I didn’t have a winter coat. It was silly really. I wore my jean jacket with a down vest over it. I layered – turtleneck, sweatshirt or sweater, jean jacket and vest. It was cold…but I refused to wear a winter coat.

 The Student Association sponsored a band to play at a costume party at the student center (Wilson Commons, designed by world-renowned architect I.M.Pei) Stephen Paul and Jim persuaded me to go with them and the guys from Jim’s suite – Bart, Lawrence, Craig, Keith. I wrapped a box that Mom shipped with some of my things from home, using birthday wrapping paper and ribbon that I paid too much for at the campus bookstore. I put on a long sweater and some tights and voila! A Birthday present - instant costume. No make-up or mask required. After the costume contest at the party, I took off my box and danced with the guys of the 7th floor.

 *          *          *

 One early November evening we had a floor meeting, and after business was done floor residents wandered off to their other commitments – homework, rehearsals, social engagements. Those of us left in the common area chatted until time to retire. Eventually Chris and I were left sitting alone together.

 Introspective, quiet, reserved, not one to seek the center of attention, Chris was an observer of human interaction. A physics major, he found elegance in mathematics, but loved the logic and ponderings of philosophy. And like Ross, he worked hard. They both had that same drive and self-discipline to complete the task set before them. For Ross it was writing computer programs, for Chris it was solving equations. They both loved language as well - the language of music and the beauty of the written word. He was from “NOT New York City” - Eastern Oregon, an area of the country I was somewhat familiar with having been driven through the area several times. And like Ross, Chris listened to excellent music. It was similar to the music Ross listened to with the same passion and the same appreciation for the finer details within an album. So much of him was familiar, and I desperately needed familiar.

 Lost in my own turmoil of desperately missing Ross and home, awed by the power I held over Stephen Paul, and intrigued by the comfort and guidance offered me by Jim. My world was upside down and inside out. That night Chris offered me his hand. I took it. There, in the quiet of the night, while friends slept in the rooms around us, we held hands. We were silent together. We didn’t talk much, if at all. We didn’t need to. Occasionally a floor-mate walked off the elevator and saw us together. We nodded an acknowledgement, offered a greeting and said goodnight. And still we held hands.

 I leaned my head back against the wall and drifted in and out of sleep. At one point I rested my head on Chris’ shoulder and dozed. And still we held hands. I woke, briefly rested, and holding only our hands together we were tender, erotic and sensual. We made love there in a way. Silently, sitting in the semi-darkness on the benches in front of the elevator. The cheerful rainbow mural around us was a stark contrast to our melancholy. Each lost in our own misery, we comforted each other. Fully clothed, sitting side-by-side our only physical contact was the gentle and comforting touch of our hands. The hours wore on, our eyes grew heavy and the time came for us to return to our respective beds. We may have kissed briefly, I don’t recall.

 We never spoke of our encounter, but I cherish the memory. That night I learned the healing power of touch. I internalized that intimacy is a state of mind that goes far beyond physical attraction. As I hope Ross did, I wonder if Chris ever found peace and happiness.

[theprobabilityengine-blog]

015%

Whatever the warehouse had been originally it had been remodelled so extensively it could no longer serve its original purpose. As he’d noted previously, the entrance to the warehouse was the one corridor that ended in a T-junction, what David was just learning was that the branches of the junction weren’t that long, they turned again a couple of metres down creating what he could only assume were parallel corridors. Although maybe they did meet up somewhere towards the back of the warehouse.

At any rate, he knew that the right-hand corridor led to the loading bay he’d observed when they were scoping the place out. Since it appeared to see the most traffic security would probably tighter that way so they decided to head to the left first.

In the left-hand corridor was five doors, one on the left and three on the right with one more at the end. The door at the end had another electronic lock on it, at least this one seemed to not include a tumbler. The chances the same code they’d used to get in would were here was slim at best. So, left with four possible doors to choose from the question on both their minds was which did they try first?

“What do you think?” Kat whispered.

“I don’t know…” David considered the doors. He was about to try to puzzle out which door was the most suspicious when the doorknob of the second door on the right started moving.

Before David could even think to react Kat grabbed him by the front of his shirt and dragged him into the nearest door. The first one on their right. Unsteady on his feet after being almost thrown into this room David staggered forwards and would have likely collapsed onto the floor if he hadn’t hit a shelf piled with boxes. While the shelf did rattle a little David’s weight wasn’t enough to cause anything to come falling down.

Letting out a relieved sigh David turned around. They were in a storage closet by the looks of it. It was a small 2x3m room which seemed even smaller with the large metal shelves lining the walls filled with unmarked boxes. The only illumination in the room was from a single, naked bulb that dangled from the ceiling. Kat was pressed up against the door. It was cracked open ever so slightly and she was listening intently to whatever was happening outside.

Moving up beside her David listened in too, however the voice was speaking a language he didn’t recognise. Perhaps it was Russian? Although it might have been Swedish or Polish as well for all he knew. When Kat glanced at him, her eyes asking if he could translate, David just shook his head in reply. They heard the voice grow fainter then there was a beeping sound, probably someone using electronic lock David had noted earlier, then the sound of a door opening and closing followed by silence.

They remained tense, wary that these people could come back at any time or a new group could show up. After a few minutes during which all was quiet they finally allowed themselves to relax. David drained from the ordeal, staggered backwards and sat down on an empty space in the shelves that lined the walls. “Bloody hell, this is exhausting,” he exclaimed.

“I know what you mean. I almost wish I was back watching that freaking lab. At least then I didn’t have to worry about being found,” Kat wiped the perspiration beading her forehead with her sleeve.

David took off his glasses and rubbed the bridge of his nose. “Just give me a minute to catch my breath before we head back out…”

Kat nodded and then sighed, “Think they were the team sent to check on the kids?”

He shook his head, “Can’t tell. Even if they were, we have no idea if they were going to do it or coming back from… Still, once we’re done here we should probably take a quick peek and so what’s in there…”

Kat nodded then sat in silence for a while. Then, “I noticed something…” Kat said looking up at the ceiling.

“What?”

“There are no cameras here… like anywhere here not just this room,” she clarified.

David frowned. He hadn’t paid attention to that so he had to take her word for it. It made sense though, if they were caught on camera they should have been captured already. “Are they just lax with security? No… probably not. More likely whatever they do here or the people involved can’t be caught on camera.” His knowledge of computers and cameras were rather lacking, however David felt he knew enough to say that no system was entirely impenetrable. They were probably worried about whatever recordings they made being leaked. “Anyway let’s get going.”

The pair went back out into the corridor after making sure it was empty. Then following the plan, Kat went down to the next door and… flung it wide open.

“Idiot!” David hissed, shutting his eyes and preparing himself for the sound pf startled voices or sudden gunfire. However, nothing happened. In that case this wasn’t the enemies centre of operations…

Opening his eyes just a crack he saw Kat standing in the doorway. Judging from the crestfallen look on her face, the kidnapped children weren’t inside either. Elbowing her out of the way David stepped inside. The room was long and thin. One wall, the wall on his left was made almost entirely of darkened glass. Several control panels and computer screens were installed inside. “This seems like an observation room… One of these things might make the glass transparent.”

Struck with a sudden premonition he turned to Kat and ordered her, “Don’t touch anything!” Kat, who had been about to fiddle with one of the control panels complied, lowering her outstretched hand, an irate expression on her face.

Satisfied his warning had gotten across David went back to looking around the room. He didn’t know what anything in the room did so he wasn’t going to risk playing with any of the controls. There was a binder that seemed to have been tossed casually on top of one of them. Moving towards it he gingerly picked it up, taking care he didn’t accidentally hit anything. Then he retreated, taking a couple of steps back, before he opened the binder to read what was inside.

At the top of the page it read “SUBJECT 1” following that was a list of traits such as gender, age, height, weight and blood group. At the bottom of the page was written “0.3%” in a red pen.

“What is it?” Kat asked coming closer.

“It seems to be information on the test subjects and some kind of statistic… don’t know what for though.”

“Is it the kids?” she asked excitedly.

“This would go a lot faster if you didn’t interrupt me every two seconds, and no, this person was in their thirties.” Sulking silently at being berated, David continued reading, flipping through the pages at speed as he absorbed the information on each one.

None of the subjects appeared to be children for some reason… Subject 2 was in their thirties just like Subject 1. Subject 3 was seventy. Subject 4 twenty-six. The percentages on the bottom of each sheet bothered him. They changed with no apparent rhyme or reason but never went over 5%. He could find no correlation between the percentages and the information recorded on the sheets.

Eventually though he came across something pertinent to Kat’s investigation.

Subject 31. Male. 12.

“I found one,” he told her holding the binder out so she could see.

Kat frowned. “So there were 30 victims before the first child… Are the just grabbing anyone? Not just children?”

Flicking through the rest of the pages David filed everything he read away inside his head then closed his eyes. Processing the information. “No… By the looks of it they were at first but whatever results they wanted they weren’t getting. Then their 31st subject just happened to be a child and the results became substantially better.” The percentage at the bottom of Subject 31’s page had been 84% a huge increase from anything that had come before.

“From there they started narrowing their focus. By subject 54 they appeared to find an appropriate age range, children between 6 and for females 17 and for males 20. Then they’ve been continuing gathering data trying to find the next breakthrough to get the result they need.” The highest percentage written down had been 91.3%.

Kat gritted her teeth. “How many subjects?”

“82.” She let out a frustrated hiss at the answer. “Well there are 82 subjects written down in here but by the looks of it only 81 have been used in whatever experiment they’re running.”

Kat was seething. It was clear she wanted to smash something but she contained the impulse. “Let’s try the next room,” she snarled before stomping outside. David considered the binder in his hands one last time before placing it down and following his companion.

She was looking around trying to decide which door to open next. David poked her in the back and nodded towards the door last door on the right-hand wall. “That was an observation room, whatever they were observing happens through there. Probably.”

“Right.” Walking over to the door she opened it and she stopped moving again. Letting out a frustrated sigh, imagining he was going to have to go through this every single time they opened a door he strode past her and into the room.

Then he saw what was inside and he froze. He blinked. He shook his head. Then he stared.

“What in the…” David murmured, his eyes wide behind his glasses.