#How It Ends

[sheleftforher]

The Sickness That Was a Warning Your body will always know before your heart does.

[seizethenightagain2]

Theo James 💜

Appreciation Post 💜

Gorgeous British 🇬🇧 Actor known for “The White Lotus” and “Divergent” series and many other roles

Mmmhhh 😋💜

[willowsfanarts]

all I ever dreamed about -latest artwork

[lisbeth-kk]

Sherlock fandom.

I can’t get you off my mind

I knew Mrs. Hudson was wrong when she told me marriage changes people. 

Not my John, I thought.

How wrong I was.  

Seen in hindsight; has it been three months already, she was right. I should have known that. After all, she was more of an expert on relationships than me. What did I have to show for? My only relationship, if you didn’t count family, had been with John. He was the only one who could fit that term. 

I told Mrs. Hudson that Mary would be reasonable when I needed John on a case. Her response baffled me. 

“Don’t ever use that word and her name in the same sentence, Sherlock. They don’t match. At all.”

Then she huffed and clenched her jaw tight, unwilling to explain herself. So, I’d turned to Mycroft. If anyone knew what was going on, it was him.

“Brother mine,” he said quietly when I came forth with my request about John’s wife. 

“Don’t patronise me, Mycroft,” I snapped. “Just tell me what’s going on. Is John safe?”

“Why would you ask…” Mycroft began, but something about my appearance stopped him from whatever nonsense he was going to utter. 

He sighed heavily and pinched the bridge of his nose. Neither were good signs. 

“She’s an assassin with a prize on her head. We have her under surveillance. I suspect she’ll attempt to flee any day to escape,” Mycroft told me. 

My brain buzzed, analysed, and calculated in quick succession, but in vain. All I could think of was John, unknowing, unsafe, and the baby.

“Mary isn’t pregnant, Sherlock,” Mycroft said. 

“Excuse me?” Were you ever going to tell me any of this?” I asked furiously.

*** 

It’s over now. John’s personal Armageddon. His wife gone when he woke. A letter explaining nothing. The fake pregnancy belly was the final nail in the coffin. I tried to reach out to him, but he was so angry. Thought I’d known all along. He didn’t want to listen to reason. I didn’t blame him. I still don’t. 

Again, it’s Mrs. Hudson’s words putting things in motion.

“Are you just going to let it slide? He needs you, Sherlock! You are his best friend, his entire world. Save him, dear, and yourself. Ask him to come home.”

“He is home,” I protest. 

The look she gives me, makes me feel like a five-year old again. She doesn’t pester me further, but it’s enough. I fetch my laptop and start to write an email. The most important one I’ve ever written.

Dear, John

Believe me when I say I didn’t know anything about Mary or the baby until the day before she left. I would’ve told you if I knew. I was terrified when Mycroft told me, and I couldn’t bear the thought of you being unsafe and unknowing. My plan was to tell you the day you woke up without her, but by then it was too late. 

I don’t blame you for not believing me, John. After all, I’ve lied to you about severe things in the past. If you want to talk, we can. Whenever you want. I’m just a text away. And if you can’t bear the thought of staying where you live; know that you’re always welcome at Baker Street. It was your home, and it’s empty without you. 

We’re not good with words, John. Not these kinds, anyway, but don’t let our friendship end like this. I want you in my life, in my home, our home. I can’t get you off my mind, John. I never could. Please, consider coming back. 

If you don’t answer this email, text, phone or come to Baker Street, I’ll understand, but I hope you’ll do at least one of those things. To let me know where we stand. 

SH

***

I’m mentally exhausted after I’ve sent the email, and go to bed, sleeping like the dead for almost ten hours. When I’ve showered and had some tea and toast, I take out my violin and play all of John’s favourites. 

This can’t be how it ends; I think when I lower the violin and bow. After I’ve placed the instrument back in its case, I hear a sound. I’d been so lost in my own head and haven’t been paying attention to my surroundings. And why would I? I’ve lived alone for months, but now I sense a presence. 

I turn, slowly, alert, and there he is, in his chair, looking at me with eyes filled with unshed tears. Any second now they will trickle down his cheeks. In an instant I’m kneeling in front of him, letting my hands rest on his knees. 

“John, is everything okay? Are you…”

“I’m okay, Sherlock. Just…”

His voice his hoarse. I can tell this isn’t the first time he’s been crying today. Something catches my eye just inside the door. John’s duffle bag. I jerk my head back to look at him.

“John?”

“I’m coming home, Sherlock. For good,” he says and manages to smile while he’s crying. 

***

So, this is how it ends. With a pair of broken hearts that are going to be mended. We only have to give it some time, and we will get there. Together.

@flashfictionfridayofficial @totallysilvergirl @keirgreeneyes @calaisreno @a-victorian-girl @phoenix27884 @sabsi221b @safedistancefrombeingsmart @gregorovitchworld @raina-at @helloliriels @peanitbear @topsyturvy-turtely

[raurquiz]

#happybirthday @TrondyNewman #TawnyNewsome #actress #singer #ensignmariner #startrek #lowerdecks #strangenewworlds #BajillionDollarProperties #SpaceForce #Brockmire #PerfectHarmony #CraigoftheCreek #Superstore #TheTwilightZone #HowItEnds #TrueStory #BigMouth #vacationfriends

[catttexsits]

How it started vs How it's going

[doctorloup]

The late (BST) Audiodrama Sunday

I have had a Woe.Begone hyperfocus for some time and I am only just now listening to other stuff!

Finally finished How it Ends after dipping in and out of it over several years - I was not expecting that ending! I guess the clue was in the name.

Caught up on the Hallowoods. I like this format of main story bookended by Jimmy Yamaguchi being unsettling and MAROLMAR CONTINUING TO FILL ME WITH THE WHITE HOT RAGE OF A THOUSAND SUNS. Nikignik darling you can do so much better. Although I realise your dating pool is limited… sorry babes.

Binged all of How I Died, which manages to neatly combine mystery, horror, ghosts and sci-fi with some engaging and sympathetic characters and cool twists.

Late to the Margaret's Garden party (don't tell my friends). Somehow it managed to be both beautiful and kind of.. wacky? Anyway I love Pasha.

Midst…wow, it really is everything people said it was. The story was fun, and touching, and amazing worldbuilding, but as with so many shows it was the music that made it for me. I cannot wax lyrical enough about the music. Just these amazing expansive synthwave soundscapes, like something out of Bladerunner.

Now, for some CROWDFUNDERS:

Do you like musicals? Do you like spooky stories that are kinda gay (of course you do this is tumblr)? Do you like pith-helmet sporting chap hop legend Professor Elemental? Well these three great tastes could be combined into a sort of weird spooky gay musical soup if you help Mark and David fund Earworm. Make David Ault sing more songs than me and Travis Vengroff put together by supporting the crowdfunder: https://www.kickstarter.com/projects/330261639/earworm-a-ghostly-audio-drama-musical Do you like goblins? Do you like the Lads Meredith? Do you like the Lads Meredith playing goblins? Do you like specific local folklore cryptids that dwell in West Sussex bodies of water? Do you like hearing Amy Dickinson finally attaining her true form as a surprisingly tall vengeful and chaotic ghost? Do you want to see Ben Meredith toss his leonine locks like a L'Oreal Advert (Can confirm having seen it live, it's very flowy). OK that last one you can just watch this video (https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=8SRWi7ZTKbE) but for everything else there's the G.O.B.L.I.N.S crowdfunder:

[momentsbeforemass]

The end times?

This time of year, the Mass readings focus on the four last things – death, judgment, heaven, and hell.

Including stuff about the end times from the Gospels, from Revelation, and even some of the Old Testament readings. Which means that people are understandably going to ask the question,

“Are we living in the end times?”

The answer? Of course we are.

Because time is divided into two parts – before Christ and after Christ. Even if you don’t use the traditional labels (BC – Before Christ, AD – “Anno Domini,” The Year of Our Lord), the event that starts CE (Common Era) is the birth of Christ.

And we are living in the back half, which will come to an end.

The important part of living in the end times isn’t knowing when it will end. Countless people waste their time trying to figure that out. None of them ever get it right. None of them ever will.

As Jesus tells us, “about that day or hour no one knows, not even the angels in heaven, nor the Son, but only the Father.” If God’s own Son doesn’t know, the odds of a human being figuring it out are, well, you know.

The important part of living in the end times is knowing what to do with the time we have.

Because the end times are the days of grace, the aftermath of Good Friday and Easter Sunday.

When God’s mercy and compassion are overflowing for all His children. When God’s call to use the time we have is a call to have a heart for Him and for all His children. As one translation puts it, to

“Overflow with mercy and compassion for others, just as your heavenly Father overflows with mercy and compassion for all.” – Luke 6:36.

Today’s Readings

[sheleftforher]

The Exhaustion of Being with Him Healthy love doesn’t exhaust you. It restores you.

[findinghomes]

No how it ends for February so here’s part of a scene instead :)

[fuckloveihavemusic]

Movements - Afraid to Die

*anon request*

[goddessvibes333]

I heard that the lessons and heartbreak will get harder each time. It’s true. I fought the universe for 5 years and this is how the lesson ended. There was nothing left to say after this. 2024 didn’t mess around. Walking away from my twin flame nearly killed me, but I’m still here. Half alive and barely breathing.

[a-forbidden-detective]

Here’s where the story ends…

—

This is written for @flashfictionfridayofficial with the prompt #FFF234 How It Ends. The title is from The Sundays’ song with the same title.

* Decided to expand this story into a heartbreaking Toto/Kawasemi-san affair that will devastate the three: Toto, Ron and Kawasemi. I am certain that Toto will choose Ron, but Ron, he wouldn’t take this sitting down. It is becoming a project.

Fandom: Kamonohashi Ron no kindan suiri/Ron Kamonohashi’s Forbidden Deductions

—

“How beautiful are entrances, compared to exits!”

(Herakles, by Euripides, tr. Anne Carson)

The clock struck at half past three in the early morning as the Shinkansen surged to reach Tokyo metropolitan area. In less than two hours, it would be dawn.

Seated all by himself in the seventh row inside Carriage No. 14 was Toto, who looked at his reflection in the glass window. What he saw was someone he didn’t know; someone whose reputation was questionable.

Thoughts of his superior and his friend bogged down his brain. Never had he been so preoccupied with the matters of the heart until now.

In his mind’s eye, he could still see Kawasemi’s downtrodden face at the restaurant and later, on the bed he momentarily shared with the older police investigator. Defeated and forlorn. All because of one Totomaru Isshiki.

Busy with his thoughts he noticed that he was not particularly alone in the carriage. There was a mother and daughter, a bubbly three-year-old girl, seated on the first row and a lone female tourist seven rows behind him.

Toto wore his eye mask and blocked the little girl’s noise by putting on his earplugs. The overhead lamp of the train suddenly offended his eyesight. He recounted the events that happened before he and Kawasemi said goodbye at the main train station’s platform.

After he told the Aichi police officer about his decision, he’d like the earth where he was sitting to swallow him.

“So, this is the end of the road, Isshiki, for us,” Kawasemi lamented. His voice cracked beneath the composed façade of his.

Toto couldn’t spare to look at his superior after his declaration that he took his clothes with him and dressed up at Kawasemi’s big posh bathroom. The flat was located in the center of Nagoya.

When Toto left him alone, the older man who had never smoked in his entire life, had the sudden urge to just stick a cigarette between his lips and inhale it to calm his nerves.

If Toto were a different person who was not in love with his best friend, perhaps, he’d give Kawasemi a chance and be contented with it. Why did he, in the first place, allow himself to be swayed by his weakness, that is, the call of the flesh to sleep with his superior?

It was sheer panic, of course. The fear of losing Ron once he would tell him what he really felt about the forbidden detective. Then came Kawasemi along who at first was unreachable, a living legend among his veteran colleagues when Toto started in the Tokyo Metropolitan Police’s Investigation Division 1. The same Kawasemi-san who he always admired from afar, the model police investigator whose professional success was suddenly halted when he lost his trusted assistant, but now got his groove back.

“You are the only one who let me realise my folly, Isshiki,” Kawasemi confessed the first time he brought Toto to his flat.

He could still remember the day when he disagreed with him during the hand collector case without hesitation, told him openly how wrong it was to treat Yamane and his colleagues using the magic of his tweezers. True, Toto’s words clipped his wings and pierced his heart, but he also fixed them because he showed his true colours, according to the Aichi police officer. Did he really? Somehow, Toto was not even sure of that.

He was goddamn tired, but sleep was elusive. There was no use even looking outside to marvel at the landscape as everything was pitch black. The guilt nagged at his thoughts. But his affair with Kawasemi was over. And for that he was relieved. Once and for all, he had to tell Ron what he was truly feeling. He glanced at the wrapped birthday gift in his shopping bag.

Less than an hour and he would already be in Tokyo. Not long now.

~ fin ~

[renee-writer]

Written for @flashfictionfridayofficial prompt

Ending

It isn't how it starts

It's how it ends

That is what they say

A good ending can

Redeem a bad beginning

Maybe it's true

I pray so

I wasn't a good mom

Unhealed from my own drama

A childhood influenced by my own

Mom’s unhealed trauma

Having my own children

Being able to parent them

Without the poison

Unremoved from my soul

Cut away

I damaged them

They have forgiven me

As I forgave my own parents

The ending counts

Please God

Don't let my grandkids have

To offer the same forgiveness!

May the lessons learned

Become a blessing in their lives.

[letterboxd-worth-a-damn]