#but the swaps were determined by google

[sherifftillman]

busy streets and busy lives • ralph penbury x reader

A strange day at work gets even stranger when you meet a man who claims he's from 1926. With no certainty as to when he can get back, you decide to take him in until that time arrives.

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Tags: Timewasters (series), modern!au, slow burn, mutual pining, idiots in love™, fluff, some angst, swearing and mentions of adult themes throughout, eventual adult content, alcohol content, drug content, penbury is a fanon surname

Word count: 14.2k

A/N: Jesus. H. Christ. Thank you for your patience. This chapter broke me. Goodnight.

(Also please note there is a new content warning in the tags! There is slight drug use in this chapter.)

PS i know, it's a lot of angst, and you guys are here for the cute fluffy timey-wimey boy. i promise next chapter is far nicer, i just didn't want it to get boring, is all. <3

It had been so long. He’d been doing so well. You thought you could just happily leave Ralph at home and he could stay out of trouble. But several missed calls from your friends alerts you to the incident that the group chat were talking about:

With a heavy sigh, you text your co-manager, asking them to cover for you so you could leave for what you call a “family emergency”. Thankfully, you’ve had to do it often enough in the past that they just assume you’ve got a really chaotic younger sibling or something, but it still gets a little frustrating that it’s his third month of living with you and you’re still having to be on call 24/7 for him. Surely by now, he could have googled whether it was safe to microwave a whole egg. And how on earth do you accidentally go live?! There are steps to it, it’s not as though it’s a button he can accidentally press. Only Ralph, honestly.

Still, you can’t stay mad at him. Not when he’s sat on the kitchen floor, muttering to himself in exponential anguish as he reads every cleaning product label to try and determine which one is best for the task at hand.              

You spot his phone still resting on the counter and look at the screen in confusion. “How are there still three and a half thousand of you watching my wall?!” You ask into the camera.

Ralph sits up on his knees to look at his phone, too, and you hold back laughter at the camera’s shot of just his hair and eyes above your kitchen counter. “What do you mean, watching?”

“You’ve been broadcasting for hours, mate. Say goodbye to your followers!” You chirp as you hover over the button to end the feed.

Ralph sinks back to the floor with a defeated, “Oh, fiddlesticks,” and you stop the livestream.

You look at the bottles he has surrounding him and hold your hand out, “Here, gimme the green one.”

He hands it over to you, and gets up quickly, moving over to sit on the sofa in silence. You sigh in resignation, looking over at him as he hugs a cushion to his chest. Quickly wiping down the inside of your microwave, you tidy up the rest of the kitchen after him and sit on the other end of the couch, cross-legged. “Hey.” You crane your neck to try and catch his gaze, but he refuses to. “Hey. You know I’m not mad at you, right? It’s just all the stuff I’ve had going on today all balled up into one big outburst. I’m sorry if I made you feel that way.”

“I suppose you shall be on your way back to work now,” he mutters into the cushion.

You shake your head, “Nah, already forfeited the rest of the day as unpaid because the other manager’s covering. Usually I’d swap it for another shift, but we’re going away next week, so…” You shrug. “No chance there.”

Ralph looks up, the pillow obscuring everything but his sad puppy-dog eyes. “G-going away? Wher- who wi- how lo-”

“Where, Brighton,” you tap one finger. “Ever been?” He shakes his head. “Ah, you’ll love it.” You tap another finger, “Who with, please, like I have any other friends,” you scoff, “so don’t worry, you won’t be meeting anybody new -”

Ralph’s eyes widen in a double take. “Wh- I’m going, too?”

“Well, I clearly can’t leave you here with me, can I?” You ask pointedly, jerking your head behind you towards the now clean microwave. “At least the sofa in the Brighton house pulls out into a proper bed size. How long,” you tap a third finger, “we leave here tomorrow afternoon, leave Brighton next Saturday morning.”

Ralph suddenly finds all his energy, “And just when were you planning on letting me know to start packing?!”

“Well, tomorrow morning, I thought, it’s just a case of shoving some clothes in a bag for a week. It’s not like we’re going to the Ritz or anything,” you shrug. “But we’ve got time to get a head start now if you really need it.”

“If I need -” Ralph scoffs at you as he leaps off the sofa and into the bedroom. All you can do is sigh as you watch him sprint across the room.

~~~

You probably should have figured out, with six of you taking three cars, that it wasn’t going to just be six of you. Grace’s new boyfriend - who you barely recognise yourself until Ralph, of all people, informs you that they’d met on his first night out with you all - and Scott’s partner, who Ralph is thrilled to be reunited with.

It does raise some questions to you about everyone’s sleeping arrangements, since usually Grace and Anna share the biggest room, leaving the three other bedrooms in the house for the rest of you. You’re about to suggest that you sleep on the sofa here, too, to give Ralph the bedroom, when instead you watch Connor throw his bag down on it.

You frown, “Oh, I was gonna stay down here to give Ralph a-”

“No, no, absolutely not,” Anna interjects, shaking her head. “I already worked out, it’s better if you two take the biggest bedroom, the two couples share a bedroom each, and then I tried to fight my case for the sofa, but Connor insisted on it.”

“What a gent,” you comment jokingly. You wonder if Ralph saw it that way, but daren’t look in his direction, in case he takes that the wrong way and assumes you want him to react. 

“So - so this bedroom that we’re staying in, is - is there -?” Ralph stammers, his eyes squeezing shut and opening at a rapid pace. You’ve been able to recognise that as a nervous reaction of his.

“Pretty sure there’s one bed, yeah. But if that’s too scandalous for you, I’m sure I can get a fold-out or something,” you explain, but Ralph’s eyes quickly look around the room before he shakes his head. He can’t quite make eye contact with you.

“No, no, it’s quite… Nothing wrong with being bedfellows, right?”

You shake your head, “Sure, whatever you say. Let me take our bags up - Connor, since yours are there, why don’t you show the newbies around the house and the rest of us can get our rooms set up?”

Connor agrees and you sling the strap of your duffel bag over your shoulder and pick up the suitcase Ralph’s using to take them both up the two flights of stairs to the biggest bedroom in the house.

You really should make work on unpacking yours and Ralph’s clothes for the week, or at least getting your toiletries out, but the bed calls to you like a siren from the deep seas. Throwing the bags on the floor, you launch yourself onto the bed. Oh, sweet spongy mattress! An actual duvet that covers all of you and then some! Pillows without an armrest digging into the back of your head!

The drive down was tiring enough that you can feel your eyes getting heavy. You try to get up again, to fight the urge to sleep too early and miss out on your first night traditions.

You’re awoken by a gentle pressure shoving your wrist down into the bed. And then your elbow. And then your shoulder. You eventually figure out that the sound that accompanies it is Ralph calling your name. “Ah, you’ve awoken! Welcome back.”

You sit up suddenly, “Oh Christ, I’m so sorry! I didn’t want to do that, oh god, what time is it?!”

“Not to worry! Everybody is waiting to go to dinner, they said this is the time you all go anyway,” Ralph assures you. You notice that he’s stood bolt upright, but with his head turned almost upside down to look at you. You let out a sleepy chuckle as you start moving out of the bed, and Ralph quickly darts out of the room. You try not to read into that too much.

You’re greeted with a chorus of, “Alright, sleepyhead?” “It lives!” “What time d’you call this?!” You flip your friends off and fake going back up the stairs before running ahead to the front door.

Once you’ve all got your food, you sit where you always do - a bench that overlooks the pier, all its illuminations making it obvious against the dark sea beneath it. Knowing you’re finally on holiday, surrounded by the people you love most in the world, in your most favourite place, enjoying one of your favourite traditions as your lap cradles the bundle of warmth that is your portion of fish and chips as you hear the gentle crashing of waves. Knowing that all your troubles are currently almost a hundred miles away. You feel a sense of contentment, a rare zen moment. You can’t remember the last time you felt this calm.

And then, ironically, a voice laced with disgruntlement interrupts your train of thought. “Is this really any way to spend a night? You can barely see anything, this is by far the least dignified way to eat, and I fear I may come down with pneumonia before the night is through,” Ralph complains.

“Eat quicker, you’ll warm up quicker,” you prompt him. “This is why I wanted to get you a hat, but you didn’t ‘trust me’,” you mock with a smirk.

“That’s ’cause I’m your favourite to shop with, innit, Ralphie?” Connor calls from further down the bench.

“The guy who bought him clothes that feature an Angry Birds and Star Wars crossover does not deserve bragging rights,” you scoff, to laughter from most of the others.

“Ignore that lot, mate, here, have mine for now!” Connor takes his hat off and puts it on Ralph’s head. There’s something rather endearing about Ralph wearing a hat with ear flaps, but even more so when they’ve folded back on each other enough that they stick out to the sides.

“Are you quite sure?” Ralph asks, eyes wide and pleading.

“Yeah, shoved my hand in my pocket earlier and realised I had a beanie in here, too,” Connor grins as he puts another hat on his head. 

“You’re such a twat,” Grace laughs, and Connor acts offended.

“Excuse you! I was merely looking out for my best mate here!” Ralph’s face lights up at those words.

Trying not to focus on how cute that is, you grin, “Did you wanna share the bed with Ralph, then?”

Connor’s mood shifts at that. He suddenly shakes his head and goes quiet as the others hurriedly change the subject. They tell Ralph about how you’ve all hired out the same house from Airbnb for years now, how the tradition of visiting every year came to be, asking Ralph if he’d ever been to a beach before. He vaguely recalls going to “a sandy beach” when he and his sister were very young, for a few years. You’ve had a few heart-to-hearts with Ralph about his father’s death and his mother’s admission to rehabilitation, but he doesn’t bring it up to the group. You still give his hand a gentle squeeze, to let him know that you understand if he’s getting upset. He wriggles his hand against yours until your fingers interlock, and he squeezes back, using his free hand to pull the ear flaps of his new hat down to cover his.

You keep hold of Ralph’s hand as you walk back to the house, just to let him know that you’re still there for him - though you’d be lying if you weren’t also letting yourself indulge in the idea of you both taking a romantic late-evening stroll along the beachfront, just a little. Of course, usually when you allow yourself these small delusions, it ends up warping the little grievances the two of you have into something far more infuriating than they probably actually are - something’s got to bring you back to reality, after all. But you can’t see any reason why you’d possibly get far enough to snap while you’re on holiday.

Once you’re back to the house, and you and Ralph are making your way upstairs, you tell him to get himself changed in the bedroom while you do so in the bathroom. You grab some pyjamas from your bag, as well as your washbag, and head in to get yourself ready for the night. A quick silent pep talk with your own reflection to remind yourself that your walk back with Ralph was strictly platonic, and you’re ready to go back out to the living room for some games with your friends before bed.

As you step out of the bathroom, you hear a short, shrill shriek. Your eyes dart immediately to Ralph sat on the side of the bed who, despite the fact that he is wearing an undershirt, still censors his chest from view with his pyjama shirt, staring at you with wide eyes.The shade of his ears is unusually deep compared to when he’s usually surprised. Assuming you’re paying far too close attention to such a minor detail for no reason, you snort out a laugh, tell him to meet you downstairs and go to meet the others.

Though Ralph doesn’t understand a lot of the games you all play that rely heavily on pop culture knowledge, he’s a big fan of those that rely on skill and/or general hilarity, since his cluelessness usually helps him there. You advise that he take a backseat upon the suggestion of Jackbox, much to the others’ chagrin - you just feel as though he isn’t quite ready for that, yet. You’re proven right when he constantly asks you for clarification on just what makes a particular answer funny, or when his ears burn up at a particularly racy answer. Connor had expressed interest in showing Ralph the ropes when it came to some games, and you tried to encourage him to go over there, but Ralph insisted on you being his teacher. You assume it’s because you know better than anyone how to explain things to him, but internally your imagination is  playing a very dangerous game.

When you awaken in the bed the next morning, Ralph is still sleeping soundly next to you. He’s almost at the edge of his side of the bed, back turned to you. You slowly make your way out of your side and sneak past him, out of the room and down to the kitchen.

“No Ralph?” Scott asks as you walk in.

“Hello to you, too,” you jokingly flip your friend off and he smiles sweetly in return. “Nah, he’s still sparko. Dunno why.”

“Didn’t he sleep well?” Anna frowns.

You shrug. “Couldn’t tell you, I slept like a log!”

Ralph stirs from all the way upstairs, assuming from the open door that you’d already left the room but still staying still just in case. He slowly starts to roll around to look, allowing himself a sigh of relief as he sprawls out on the bed. He’d only slept once he’d finally exhausted himself from trying to stay as deliberately far away from you as possible. 

His mind would wander, of course. How peaceful you must look when you sleep. How wonderful it would be to awaken with his face a mere touching distance from yours. On occasion, he’d hear you take an extra deep breath and he’d get giddy at the realisation that he was breathing the same air as you!

That’s when he’d rein it in. Stupid Ralph. That’s exactly what scared Lauren off. It’s been months since that week, and still he hasn’t learned. In the present moment, Ralph pushes the heels of his hands into his eyes and bares his teeth in frustration at himself. Desperate to think of anything other than the thought of waking up next to you just as the sun shone against you in the most perfect of ways, making you appear even more radiant than usual. Of your eyes slowly opening as you wake. Ralph finally gives into temptation and indulges himself in the idea of your sleepy smile, in this dream universe where you’d be happy to wake up to see him. And what a perfect sight that would be.

He takes himself to the bathroom, picking up his razor and twirling the handle around between his fingers and thumb, worrying his lower lip between his teeth. He’s already shaved his facial hair clean off on several occasions. It keeps him remembering who the real Ralph Penbury is. You and your friends always complain when he does it, though. They tell him that he’s not Our Ralph when he looks like that. He’d love nothing more than to be Their Ralph. Especially to you. What was the point of being the other Ralph? Going back to a penniless, friendless, loveless, overall fruitless life?

But you’re always reminding him, this isn’t his era. This isn’t permanent. You’re always preparing him to go back to his own time at any point. A part of Ralph - the stupidly optimistic, nay, deluded part - hopes that it’s simply a fear of the unknown, that messing with time in such a way could cause devastating effect. Though what a stupid thing to think, in what universe would Ralph have such a massive impact?! 

With a heaving sigh, he tidies his facial hair up to a minimum while keeping it intact. A part of him still hesitates, still debates going further. It's what you'd want. Except also it isn't, because you always tell him he looks better with it. Ye gods, you're a confusing one.

Ralph gets himself dressed and makes it downstairs in just enough time to catch breakfast being dished up. You whisper something to Scott as soon as Ralph approaches, and Scott hands him a plate with a warm smile alongside everyone else eating, before setting everything up to make another portion for you. Ralph wants to frown, but he doesn't want to draw attention to himself, either. Why would you immediately sacrifice your breakfast for him, when he's the one who came downstairs later? Why would you see him being fed first as more important? Why not let him make that decision? He would have been happy to wait.

You feel Ralph's eyes boring into you as he scarfs his eggs down, but the one time you try and look back at him he acts as though he's trying not to get caught. You wonder what he could possibly be thinking, until Anna starts talking about the day's itinerary. This is good, this is distracting from the awkwardness, this is what the holiday is all about.

All wrapped up for a brisk November morning, you all head out to the pier, as per tradition. As Ralph gets face to face with the rides, he looks up at them, horrified, and you frown. "Are you scared of rides, or something?" He looks back down at the pier floor, watching the waves crash beneath a gap in the planks, with more fear in his eyes. "Hey, hey," you soothe, "eyes up." Ralph eventually tears his gaze away to look at you. "I promise it's all safe. It's not like those travelling funfairs where everything gets wheeled in and out, everything's built to stay here. Alright?" He still seems distracted, and before you can stop yourself, you blurt out, "Wanna hold my hand again?"

Stupid. What happened to not feeding the delusion? What happened to distancing yourself? What happened to being realistic? You know exactly what happened. Those damn baby-cow eyes. Hopefully Ralph'll say no. It'll be too scandalous for him to hold hands in public with people all around, surely.

But no. His fingers very carefully slide between yours yet again as he squeezes your hand gratefully. You keep both of your hands relatively tucked away from the others' view - they've already got you two sharing a bed, the last thing you need is having to constantly try to convince them all that you and Ralph aren't an item. Despite the fact that it would certainly be a good thing for you, a constant reminder to you that it can never happen, you know your friends well enough by now to know that they’d only take it as denial. That they’d keep pressing to ‘uncover’ whatever they believe you’re hiding. And you’ve gone this long keeping your one big secret from them, what if they keep digging until they find that out?!

Your train of thought is interrupted by a loud giggle from Ralph. He sees the photo op cutout of a cop and robber chase scene and he’s delighted by it. “Wanna pose?” You let go of Ralph’s hand to take your phone out and hand it to one of your friends as you both run behind the photo stand. Ralph finds the resulting picture absolutely hilarious. 

“I always wanted to do one of those,” he muses as the pair of you hang back for him to once again hold your hand, to your own chagrin. Why couldn’t you have offered to link arms? That’s friendly enough. Can’t really be misconstrued. His smile, small but contented, melts your frustrations away, if only to add to them later on as you’re walking with him.

“Did they not have people taking your photo for you, even, in those days, then?” you ask quietly, so as not to be overheard.

Ralph half-shrugs, “There were cameras, you know. Far bigger than those little pocket ones everyone has now!”

“Yeah, I think I know of them. Big box things, someone would have to stand under a curtain and hold out a thing to press to take it, right?” you ask.

Ralph holds back his laughter as he replies with amusement, “By a thing to press, do you mean a button, by any chance?”

You pull a sarcastic face at him. “I’m leaving you stranded here,” you joke, tugging him in a particular direction to show him you’re not serious. “You’re spending too much time around me, I think. Starting to sound like me and everything,” you shake your head.

“Is that such a bad thing?” Ralph asks in a small voice.

Trying not to overthink what else that could mean, you shrug, “Well, I s’pose if I’ve a part to play in you being able to tell your sister to shove it, then not really. But using my own brand of sarcasm against me?” You tut, again shaking your head. “I’ve created a monster.” Ralph laughs gently at you as everyone stops at their first ride: the Turbo roller coaster. 

Everyone laughs at the shade of green Ralph turns. “I promise you, mate, it’s far scarier down here than it is up there,” Connor tries to reassure him, but Ralph is fixated on the loop in the track.

“Honestly, Ralphie babe, that is the tiniest loop you’ll ever go on. It’ll be over before you even know it, and by the time it is over, you’ll love it, promise!” Grace holds her little finger out to Ralph, who stares at it with fearful eyes for a few beats before linking his own, to everyone’s cheers.

You allow your hands to be a little less obscured, under the guise that Ralph is only scared of the ride and so you are providing a temporary comfort. Anna also rests her head against Ralph’s arm, and Scott places a comforting hand on his shoulder, at your invitation. “The more of us that comfort him, the better, right?” you explain. “Plus, if there’s any… Prying eyes…” You look around anxiously. “At least they can’t assume that Ralph and I are dating just ’cause we’re stood together,” you roll your eyes exaggeratedly. “I don’t need that sort of attention, it’s bad enough on socials.”

You don’t see Ralph’s change in demeanour. What was a quiet excitement mellowed amongst the fear of the ride, turns to full-blown dejection. Of course you’d be embarrassed to be associated with him. Who wouldn’t be? No matter what era he’s in, he’s still Ralph.

Anna interrupts his train of thought by rubbing his arm, “You alright, Ralph?” He nods, pushing a smile up his cheeks. “Nervous?” She asks, and he nods silently. She hugs his arm tight. “Honestly, there’s nothing to it.”

“Yeah, you’ll be a thrill-seeker like the rest of us in no time!” Scott grins before nudging you and Ralph each. “You two should get a photo on the Crazy Mouse for the flat!”

You shake your head, “Come off it, like either of us would want a photo of us being flung around like that! Right, Ralph?” Again, he nods without saying a word. Your brow furrows, “Are you okay? Did you want to sit this one out?” He shakes his head. “Sure? We can just go get food if you would rather watch this lot go round first and then we can go later,” you offer, but he shakes his head again.

“Besides, it’s not like it’d be the worst photo of him out there,” a completely strange voice from the other side of the queue barrier makes you jump.

“Excuse me?!” Scott exclaims.

“Oh my god, I’m so sorry! I didn’t mean to scare you all! We just saw Ralph, and then you, and really wanted to get a photo, if that’s okay?” They ask you. They seem innocent enough, just asking for a picture, but you still can’t help but stand there awkwardly.

“Oh, I’m not really into that side of things, I only got my socials to make sure people are being normal about him,” you shrug them off before adding, “and to reward you all with some extra content if you’re all behaving!” They laugh, and you turn to Ralph. “What do you say, do you wanna take a photo with some of your fans?”

Ralph approaches the barrier and leans over it to pose for the photo, pressing his lips together into a smile as he holds an arm around his first in-person fan. “My friends and I just think you’re absolutely hilarious!” They smile up at him.

“Oh, please,” he laughs, flustered. Though he has his new hat on, you can guess what’s happening beneath it. “My lack of knowledge of technology doesn’t necessarily make me hilarious, anyone could do that.”

“Nah, there’s a sort of… Natural charm about you. Plus, I don’t know if anyone’s ever told you this, but you’re really cute. Even in that photo that’s going around.”

Ralph sputters nervously as the rest of you exchange glances. You manage to hide your seething rage from your friends, though you feel it boring through your eyes as they fixate on this person. “Ah, don’t be so silly! You’re far too kind. Um, is that your friend over there waving you away?” He asks as someone approaches, thankfully dragging their friend away while talking about spotting a Twitch streamer as they head in the direction of some poor sod wearing a black and white face covering. You wonder whether that’s their ‘thing’ or if they’re doing it to avoid detection. You wonder if you’ll have to do that with Ralph at some point. His internet fame is becoming less and less of the laugh it first seemed to be with every day.

“You alright?” Anna again checks in with Ralph, who looks slightly bewildered still.

“Should I have responded differently there?” He asks.

You’re quick to answer, “No! No, I think you did the right thing, there.” You then hurriedly follow it up with a, “I mean, dating fans is never a good idea, right?”

“Yeah, not gonna lie, that made me uncomfortable,” Connor cringes. “You handled it way better than me, mate.” Ralph feels a sense of pride at his words. The line starts to move and soon enough, you’re all getting into carriages yourself. 

You make sure you and Ralph are in one near the middle, so he feels safer. Once you’re all strapped in, and the attendant is sure Ralph is, too, you see him already squeezing his eyes half-shut in anticipation. You poke him gently and hold your hand out again. “It’ll be here if you need it, okay?”

“Oh, it’s quite alright, I wouldn’t want to be a -” Ralph starts, but as the coaster jolts into motion he quickly grasps your hand tightly.

Ralph’s half-laugh/half-scream serenades you throughout the whole ride, especially at the loop. Once the ride brings you back upright again, you look over at him. “Was that so bad?”

“Boy, that was exhilarating, wasn’t it?!” He beams, and everyone else cheers for him from their own seats.

“You did it, Ralphie!” “We’re so proud of you, babe!” “Reckon we’ve awoken the thrillseeker in you?” Ralph’s too giddy to answer any of those. 

You can barely get him to stand upright without his legs turning to jelly, unless you get him to hold your arms while you hold his. He falls into your arms with a giddy laugh, and you gently shove him onto his own gait. “Easy, tiger!” You giggle. “God knows what you’re gonna be like on the other rides.”

Once he sees the Crazy Mouse coaster in action, that green hue in his skin returns, so you decide to build his courage up a little more. His face simply turns white when he sees the ghost train. Scott notices and rolls his eyes, “Oh my god, Ralph, don’t even worry about it, this is literally the least scary ride on here.”

His partner pipes up, “Yeah, there’s scarier creatures on the merry-go-round than there are in there!”

“I wonder if they’ve put the face back on that animatronic from last year or not?” You ask, before looking over to Ralph, who looks horrified. “It’s unintentionally the scariest thing there, and it’s not even that bad. Trust me. Remember?” You hold your hand out, wiggling your fingers. “If you need it.”

“What if… People assume?” Ralph asks, trying not to spit the word out with the venom that wants to follow it.

You shrug, “I think your face justifies your need to have someone hold your hand. If you’d rather, you can sit with Connor or Anna, I was just suggesting -” He takes your hand again in silence, and you walk him over to queue up at the ghost train.

The moment the ride takes you into a dark hallway, Ralph buries his face in your shoulder, and you pat his cheek comfortingly. However, as he starts to see the quality of the animatronics (“Was that one being held up by -” “Duct tape, yes.”) and experience how poorly timed the “jump scares” are, he relaxes far more. 

You take him on the twister next, which only ends up throwing your body into his at every convenience, a consequence you’d forgotten in the year since you’d last been on it. Still, he seemed too invested in the adrenaline rush that came with being thrown around in circles to notice your proximity.

After a quick pit stop to eat, and reassurance to Ralph that you weren’t going straight back onto any rides, you go into the arcade. Ralph’s face lights up along with all the games as you explain what ones are. He excitedly tells you that he recognised the fortune teller machine and a strength tester game from his own youth. 

You let the others go on ahead as you and Ralph pay for a go on the fortune teller. It tells you, “A smile is worth a hundred frowns in any market!” You look at Ralph with the biggest smile you can muster, and he returns with one of your favourite expressions of his, the big fake animatronic-style smile that could rival the fortune teller. “And lucky for you, the great Zoltar sees much happiness ahead for you!” You bite your lip at the irony. Does that mean Ralph's happiness, that he’ll be returning home soon? Your happiness, that he’ll be staying? Or is it just a randomly generating machine?

It prints off a fortune and you read it together: You may be riding the winds of change. Things may at times seem to be out of touch. Soon they will come to a better order. As the blessings of health and fortune have a beginning, so they must also find an end. Everything rises but to fall. To make sense of all this, you will find the answer is to be found in how well you relate to people. Looking at the big picture will help shape your long range plans. If things are not always smooth remember that he who could foresee affairs but three days in advance would be rich for thousands of years.

You blow out a long breath of disbelief at how weirdly on the nose that seems to be for you both and quickly pocket it to find the others. Grace is trying to get her new boyfriend to win her a stuffed toy on the cranes. Scott is trying to finesse a coin-pusher game while his partner and Connor play a dance mat game behind him, and Ralph leaves you to watch in awe as Anna plays a pinball machine. She tries to explain the mechanics of it all to him, but it seems to be going entirely over his head.

You play your favourite game for a while, trying to win as many tickets as possible, when Ralph soon joins you as well. “Any luck with pinball?” You ask, and Ralph shakes his head.

“I wasn’t sure how to play it, I didn’t really seem to be doing anything, rather just pushing an awful lot of buttons for the sake of it,” he answers. 

“Sounds like you were playing it right to me!” You laugh. “What do you wanna do now?”

“Well,” he says, excitement obvious in his voice. “I saw one of those photo booths around there…”

You gasp, “Yes! Let’s do it!” before looking around with disappointment. “Ugh, how are we gonna fit everyone in, though?”

“Perhaps we can get individual ones with people across the week?” Ralph suggests.

“Alright,” you nod. “Wanna get some practice in, just us?” Ralph nods back at you, and you both head into the booth.

Once you’ve paid for it, Ralph asks, “Now how does it all work, again?”

“Right, it’ll tell you when - oh, for fuck’s sake,” you groan as it takes a photo of you mid-sentence, and Ralph stifles a laugh. “Okay, quick, when’s it taking anoth- ahh!” Another snap takes you by surprise, and Ralph doesn’t attempt to hide his amusement this time. You throw your hands up in disbelief, “Well, this is a waste now, isn’t it,” before collapsing into laughter yourself.

“I am sorry,” Ralph frowns at you once all four are taken, and you wave him off. 

“Don’t be! I should have set us a game plan from the beginning.” You decide on your poses: a normal, smiley one; a goofy-grinning one; one with both your tongues sticking out; and one where you kiss his cheek. You promise him that it’s not at all scandalous to pose in this way, and that between Grace and Scott, at least one of them would want a photo with him like it anyway so you’re simply getting him geared up for that. You’re promising yourself that more than him, if you’re being honest with yourself.

You end up posing for the first one with your heads touching as you smile gently into the camera. He’s not giving his usual uncomfortable smile, or his disappearing-lip act. It’s just a nice, natural smile. Which is immediately replaced with a fake smile so big, he has to hold himself up on the bench with both of his hands to hold himself at an angle worthy of the grin on his face, which you mirror. When you tell him, “Tongues out!” yours pokes straight out towards the camera, but he lets his loll out to show off the flat of his tongue to the camera instead. You remind him to look ahead for the last one by pointing at the screen, and then holding the cheek furthest from you to push it closer to you, feeling his freshly trimmed down stubble scratch at your lips as you feel them press against the warm flesh of his cheek beneath.

Once all four are done, you quickly get out to make sure both strips are still there to collect. Thankfully, nobody else has seen them, and you pick them both up to study them. You try not to focus on the bottom photo of the second strip, instead looking at the total disaster that is the first strip. Most of them are blurry and far from flattering, but the final one. What is it with the last photo with you two?! You’re laughing, as is Ralph, but the way Ralph is angled, you could just as easily fool yourself into believing that he’s looking at you as though he’s madly in love with you.

As he emerges, he asks, “So, were those first ones completely unusable?”

Quickly tearing off the bottom photo to pocket it, you crumpled up the remaining three and throw them in the bin. “Yeah, pretty much! Here, hold onto these ones, though, and we can put them on the fridge when we get back home.”

Home. Do you mean that to mean your home is Ralph’s, too, or are you speaking on your own terms? Neither of you know, to be honest.

Your friends reconvene around you, and you tell them of yours and Ralph’s plan for each of them to get a mini photoshoot with him, what with it being his first time on this holiday with you all. Everyone happily accepts getting their own photo ops in with Ralph, and you love watching how everyone poses with him. Your personal favourites are Anna teaching him how to throw up deuces as they pull funny faces, Connor teaching him how to make hand horns as they stick their tongues out, Scott and his partner both kissing each of Ralph’s cheeks, and Ralph’s feigned disgust as Grace drapes herself over her boyfriend.

After all that excitement, you decide you’ll return to the rides another day. Instead, you find a nice little Italian place to eat that’s taken over an old cafe you had used to love coming to, but this new restaurant has an even better vibe than its predecessor. That, and Ralph learning how to eat spaghetti through trial and error is hilarious, especially when he decides that the best way is to simply find the ends of as many strands as possible and slurp them all up. The rest of you make a game of picking a strand each and seeing which one lasts the longest.

On the way back, Ralph gets recognised again. Thankfully, this person knows better than to flirt with a total stranger, though Ralph still seems astounded at the whole experience. This fan says something about being able to replace their icon from “the explosion photo”, and so, remembering the one from earlier mentioning an unflattering picture, once you’re all back at the house you look through Ralph’s follower list and burst into laughter. 

It seems as though his fans have taken a screenshot of his disdain after microwaving the egg and made it their profile pictures. Some have left it as is, with your kitchen in the background. Some have added further explosions and other phenomena in the background. Ralph is the only one who doesn’t see the funny side, the disappointment returning to his expression.

With a sigh, you promise him, yet again, that there is no need to be upset. You’re not upset with him, the flat was easily cleaned, the microwave remains functional. You understand that this comes from years of being raised poorly, but having to constantly remind Ralph that you aren’t mad at him, is ironically the thing that frustrates you the most about him.

The next day, after again waking up to Ralph practically on the edge of his side of the bed, you decide to go to the Lanes to explore some of the vintage shops. Mostly, for your own amusement, you want to watch Ralph react to what is considered “vintage”, but you know you’re going to have to rein it in around everyone else. The day flies by in a montage of trying on ridiculously old clothes, ones that even Ralph turns his nose up at, trying to find the most cursed old toys in every shop, and Ralph trying desperately to stifle his excitement every time he recognises something from his own time period. Ralph gets recognised again by a young, tall blonde boy and his shorter brunette friend, though those two soon get accosted themselves, which allows you to get Ralph away to the safety of a quieter shop.

After your shopping excursion, you return to the pier to play some more games, this time from the attractions around the pier. Thankfully, Ralph seems far more confident walking on it, so there’s no need for you to offer any hand-holding services - although it does already feel strange walking around with both hands empty. You manage to win a stuffed animal on a throwing game, and Ralph decides his skill set is best utilised playing hook-a-duck - though he throws the person running the game off of their rhythm when the prize he asks for is to keep the duck itself, as Ralph personally has no use for stuffed animals. The person running the game, totally baffled, ends up letting Ralph keep the rubber duck, which he seems thrilled about, placing the hook over his finger and letting the duck swing from it with great delight.

“I think I get why cats like him so much,” Connor comments from where he’s stood just behind you as you watch Ralph. “You know how you can buy them all the expensive toys they want but they just wanna play in the box?” You snort with laughter in agreement. “He’s just one of them.”

While Ralph insists on everyone referring to the duck by its name, Clarence, he apparently draws the line at your joke of offering to pay for him to shoot a photo booth reel with his new friend. He looks at you with disapproval at that one.

You still utilise Clarence in his own way, though. Everywhere you go from that point onwards, you take a photo of the duck in that area, and then post it to Ralph’s Instagram story for him, though you only do so once you’re no longer in that place, for obvious reasons.

That evening, at the house, Connor tells Ralph he’s got a surprise for him, and to close his eyes and hold his hands out. Your heart swells when you see that Connor, who had excitedly spent the best portion of an hour in a music shop, has bought Ralph his own ukulele. Ralph looks close to tears at the gift. “Oh, Connor, I couldn’t possibly -”

“None of that, you can and you will,” Connor states simply while pointing at him, and Ralph shrinks down in defeat, opting instead to look at the ukulele with marvel. You all spend the night listening to Ralph play his chords, everyone occasionally offering lyrics to the tunes he was playing. God, he fits in so well with you all. It’s going to be so heartbreaking to tell them all when it’s his time to leave.

You wonder if the window of opportunity will only be open while you’re away. It’s a risk you’ve had to take to make sure he stays safe, since he literally only proved days ago that he still can’t be trusted unsupervised. What if you miss it? Would he resent you? Would it cause some insane rip in the time-space continuum? There’s really not a lot of solid research into this whole time travel business.

The next morning, you’re shocked to awaken to Ralph’s face dangerously close to yours as it rests on the inner half of his pillow. You could count his eyelashes, they were that close. You could connect his freckles, they were that close. His lips twitch ever so slightly in his sleep as you’re studying his face. His face that’s so close to yours. His lips that are -

You quickly take yourself out of that trance and practically throw yourself down the stairs, you’re that quick to leave the room, and those thoughts.

Ralph awakens, sadly, from a dream where you’re happy to have him in your arms to find himself near enough in the middle of the bed. He wonders exactly how he got there. You’re already awake, because of course, you always are. You don’t lie awake for almost an hour every night trying desperately to stay as rigidly far away from the centre of the bed as possible.

When Ralph arrives for breakfast, the group have already decided that today is more of a lazy day. They’ll go out later, of course, but there’s no rush. Just a day spent at the house, playing more board games and listening to both Connor and Ralph playing the ukulele as Connor teaches him how to teach himself actual songs. You even post Ralph’s first photo dump to his Instagram account:

As fun as it is to get out and experience another city, especially getting to do so with Ralph for the first time, you make just as many memories on this rest day. Memories like Ralph not only playing Jackbox for the first time, but somehow winning several games. Memories like watching Grace and her boyfriend playing board games as if they’d been married for years, even though she wrongfully accuses you and Ralph of playing the same way.

In the last hour of sunlight, you realise something. “I haven’t found my rock for this year, yet!”

Ralph looks at you strangely. “Your what?” Before answering his own question. “Do you mean that shelf full of stones in the bedroom has a purpose?”

“Yes! Every year, I find myself a cool-looking rock to take back. It’s tradition,” you explain with a gesture. “Plus, it gets us all out of the house at least once.”

“W’re all goin’ out la’er,” Connor groans from where he lays across the sofa he’s been sleeping on, beneath a mountain of crisps he’s been making his way through.

“At least twice then, lazybones,” you comment, but almost everyone else is happy to stay home.

Everyone except Ralph, who hurriedly gets his shoes on. Of course, it’s just you and Ralph. Alone. Far away from home. Nothing could possibly go wrong, here.

Thankfully, you’re on a mission, here. You can distract yourself with the task of finding the best looking rock on the beach. It can’t just be the first cool rock you see, oh no. It has to be the best one. That’s always been your rule.

Ralph tries to help, but honestly, a puppy would be less excitable. He keeps grabbing the first rock he can, running up to you to ask, “Is this useful?” to which the answer is almost always “no”, and so he simply throws it back to the ground and looks again. There are three separate occasions where he shows you ones he’s already asked you about. But he’s having fun, and he looks adorable, and maybe tonight you’ll be able to delude yourself into a happy little dream where Ralph’d be happy to do anything for you. Though perhaps not quite anything, that sort of dream would have to be reserved for a time when you’re not sharing a bed with him.

You thump the side of your head with the heel of your hand, as though you’re trying to knock the idea out of your brain. There is absolutely no time and place for those kind of thoughts.

At one point, Ralph sees a young child throwing rocks one at a time into the sea, with great delight. Ralph also seems highly entertained by it, and when the kid looks over at him, he decides to join in by grabbing a whole handful of rocks and throwing them all into the water at once. The kid thinks this is the most hilarious thing they’ve ever seen before. Ralph seems happy enough to keep doing it until the kid’s parents take them away. You’re happy to just sit back on the ground and watch Ralph, taking photos and videos of this moment. 

 Ralph soon joins you where you sit, laughing breathlessly. “Oh, what a joy that was!”

“You certainly looked as though you were having a blast,” you simper. “Though if you threw away the ultimate rock amongst all of that, I may never forgive you,” you add in a sarcastic deadpan.

“I would completely understand,” Ralph nods back, unable to keep up any monotony for any amount of time before snorting with laughter. He looks out at the horizon, pointing out how the sky looks now that the sun is starting to set. “Don’t see that very often in London,” he frowns.

You shake your head, “Nah, it’s usually too cloudy. Not that different here, we’ve just caught a good moment. Looks nice, doesn’t it, all reflecting on the water and that?” You cock your head to the side and sigh happily. “Could sit here for hours watching it.”

Ralph tenses up, trying desperately not to think of how your head just rests against his arm, the weight of it still pressing down on the padded sleeve of his coat enough for him to feel it. He swallows hard, “Yes, it’s too bad that the sunset doesn’t last long at all, isn’t it?”

“You’re telling me,” you add with a soft smile before sitting up. “That’s why I wanted to try and get to the beach now, to get to see it at least once. ’m glad you came with me,” you muse before suddenly realising you’re treading into dangerous territory here. To save yourself, you quickly add, “Y’know, so that you get to see it too, while you’re still here. Since you were saying you haven’t been on a holiday like this since you were a kid. Maybe you can go on more of them once you’re back.”

“Maybe,” Ralph replies emotionlessly.

You sit in relative silence as you watch the sky together. You get a “golden hour” selfie with Ralph, mostly to teach him about it, though he says that he doesn’t see much difference between that photo and most of the others you’ve taken in the past. After realising that he’s brought it with him in his pocket, too, you spend a good few minutes laughing along with Ralph as you try to find the most photogenic angle of Clarence the duck to add to his photo collection.

Once the view stops being quite so aesthetically pleasing, you stop off at the pier again to buy some sugared doughnuts to share with Ralph as you make your way over to the pub that you plan to meet your friends at. You love this pub as another of your holiday traditions, because Wednesday nights are karaoke nights. You wonder whether Ralph’ll feel confident enough to sing along to any modern songs. The mental image of Ralph taking to the mic to sing along to Taylor Swift with his entire chest is enough to make you laugh out loud, which confuses Ralph, but you opt to not tell him, merely shaking your head and covering your mouth instead.

To your disappointment when you get there, the pub no longer does karaoke, but Wednesdays are now pub quiz nights. You still stick around for dinner, and after a couple of drinks, you end up signing up for the quiz, for a laugh. None of you expect to get very far, but Grace’s boyfriend really pulls through with sports questions, and even Ralph ends up answering the question that ultimately wins the whole quiz for you, one about a specific style of shoes that had rendered the rest of you clueless.

Everyone ends up watching your group celebrating Ralph. The leaders of the second-place team, an older blonde man and a dark-haired woman he refers to as his wife, even join in with their own congratulations.

 A pair of young women offer to buy Ralph a drink, to which Connor starts encouraging Ralph to go with them. You very quickly make conversation about the rest of the week’s plans with Anna and Grace to distract yourself, but Ralph doesn’t seem interested, much to your confusion. You look around at your friends, who all seem to be exchanging their own looks to each other, but none of them seem to want to look at you. You shake your head and make your way to the bathroom, scoffing indignantly at the two men who barge past you to get to the door next to you.

After a few minutes of silent pep talk to remind yourself that you have no right to feel bad if Ralph expresses interest in someone else, Anna comes in specifically to find her. After promising her a full eight times that you’re absolutely fine, you both head back out to the group, where Scott had brought along a game from the house that you can all play together. You notice Ralph isn’t there, but you don’t bring it up. You’re not his keeper, after all.

~~~

“Ah, ladies, this is quite an honour, obviously, but I am out with friends and it would be rather impolite to just leave them!” Ralph explains hurriedly to the two women who have approached him to congratulate him on his efforts.

“I dunno, your mate there seems pretty keen for you to come over,” one smirks in Connor’s direction.

“I must insist, I could never live with myself for taking advantage of such generous women as yourselves, though I am deeply grateful that you should wish to spend your night in my company! I’m afraid I’m very much not from around here, and so I would get frightfully lost without my friends to guide me home,” Ralph blabbers, getting more and more flustered.

“Maybe you can come back to mine, then?” The other asks, looking suggestively at him as she touches his arm. It’s a gentle contact, but it electrifies Ralph at high voltage as he yelps, pulling it away.

“Truly flattered, but I am a gentleman first and foremost and so I simply must decline such an offer, and I shan’t be staying long enough to court you appropriately, but I wish you both very well in your endeavours!” Ralph practically shouts as he turns on his heel and quickly makes his way to the toilets. 

Ralph walks in on quite a sight. Two men, reasonably bigger than himself, bent double over the sinks. “Pardon me,” Ralph calls out, with the intention on simply throwing some water on his face as a wake-up call of sorts, but the men jump up in surprise at the sound of his voice.

“Ain’t nothing to see here, mate, jog on,” one says, trying to square up against Ralph.

“Sorry, gents, just wanted a quick go at the sink, and then I’ll be out of your hair, I promise!” He smiles brightly, completely oblivious. He catches sight of a line of white powder along the counter and chuckles to himself as he recognises it as cocaine, thinking back to previous parties he’d held at Penbury House.

The first man growls, “Find something funny?”

“Oh, just reminiscing. It’s been a while since I’ve seen… You know,” his eyes flash over to the substance on the counter. “Just fondly remembering old times.”

“Oi, ain’t no way this toff’s a user,” the second man shakes his head.

The first one snarls with a smile, "You a copper?"

"Heavens, no!" Ralph laughs. "Not to worry, gentleman, I'm no telltale, your secret is safe with me!"

"I'm not buying it," the second one looks at Ralph with an upturned nose. "I reckon he's a snitch."

"Well, only one way to prove it, innit," the first one grins uncomfortably at Ralph as he gestures towards the counter. "Care to join us?" he asks in a voice that mocks Ralph's.

“Well, if you insist, I - straight from the counter?” Ralph asks in disgust, but the chorusing snarl answers him quite adequately. “I suppose beggars can’t be choosers!”

Just as he finishes the first line, he’s interrupted by a loud, “RALPH! Fucking hell, get your head out of there! What the fuck is wrong with you two dickheads?!” Connor grabs Ralph by the back of his jumper and throws him back. “You alright? How much have you had?”

“Oh please, it was barely even a full line, it’s nothing,” Ralph insists, to both Connor and Scott’s baffled expressions.

“We don’t have time to unpack that right now,” Connor throws Ralph in Scott’s direction at the emphasis, causing Ralph to trip over his own feet through both of the steps it takes to get there, and Scott catches him, trying to get a good look at his eyes. Connor turns to the two men. “Alright, look.”

“Don’t know that I feel up to much talking,” one snarls.

Connor pulls a sarcastic expression. “Oh yeah, beat a guy up in the same room your coke’s still out for the world to see, good one(!) Shut the fuck up, yeah? We didn’t see anything, neither did you. Just - I mean, what the fuck were you thinking, giving your shit away for free, to him?!”

The man shrugs, “Had to call his bluff, innit? Thought he was a narc.”

“Well, you thought wrong, didn’t you,” Connor sneers, remaining sarcastic as ever. “Just… Clean up and get the fuck out of here, yeah? C’mon,” he gestures for Scott and Ralph, who’s already starting to bounce on the balls of his feet, to get out.

~~~

Once you finally see all three boys re-emerge from the bathroom, as you’d asked the other two to check on Ralph, you notice something off amongst them. Ralph seems in far higher spirits than the others. You get up to meet them halfway and notice something white and powder-y on the edge of Ralph’s nostril. “The fuck is that?!” You ask incredulously.

Scott looks over and quickly pulls his shirt sleeve down to wipe at Ralph’s nose with it. “Nothing!” He lilts, though his expression as he flashes his eyes at you confirms your worst fears about it. Scott mutters, “We need to get him to a hospital.”

“No!” You and Ralph chorus loudly. You shush the man and hurriedly lie, “No, you’ve not seem him in a hospital, he’s fucking useless, faints the second he gets in, he hates it all, honestly. Give him here, just - I’ll take him back to the house, I’ll keep an eye on him.”

“I promise you all, I am fine, I’ve done far more than that in my years!” Ralph states. “Can we please just return to our night?”

“Respectfully, mate, you don’t know what this shit’s been laced with,” Connor warns. “I’m with Scott, I think hospital’s the best place.”

“And I’m telling you, it really fucking isn’t,” you hiss back at them. “He just needs to get back home so he can’t make any more bad decisions.” Ralph frowns at your words, but you ignore him.

“Alright, we’ll pack up,” Scott starts, but you stop him.

“No, no.” You sigh, “Look, it’s still your holiday, too. I’ll take him back, I’ll keep you guys updated, but you lot just enjoy the night without us, okay?”

“We really don’t mind,” Connor shakes his head, but you persist.

“Honestly. Just…Hang on a second.” You return to the table, spinning a tale of how Ralph’s got a migraine and so you’re going to take him home as you put your outdoor clothes on. Everyone still at the table calls out well-wishes for Ralph as you make your way back to him, informing the boys of what you’ve said, and you lead Ralph out of the door into the brisk evening air.

You walk in silence, not knowing what to say. You’re concerned about Ralph, obviously, but you’re also just so mad at him for doing something so stupid. Who accepts some rando’s offer of coke off a random pub sink?! What the fuck was he thinking?! And now, everyone else is enjoying their holiday while you spend it the way you spend every single day - babysitting a 25 year old man who acts without consequence because he doesn’t bear them, you do. You may as well be at home with him.

“You know,” Ralph finally breaks the silence as you walk up the street that the house is on, “I’m not a child. I knew what I was doing.”

You sigh, “Free drugs is a massive red flag, Ralph. You could have gotten into some serious shit.”

“Well clearly not if we’re just going straight back to the house,” he points out.

“Okay, Ralph, what do you want me to say when we get to the hospital? ‘Hi, I’ve got a man here who needs drugs pumped out of his system. Name? Ralph Penbury. Date of birth? February 1st 1901. Oh, what’s that? You’ve got him marked as being dead for the last 96 years? Then what’s he doing stood here?!’” Ralph goes quiet up until you get to the front door, where you press your hands into your face and groan. “Ugh, I’m sorry, Ralph. I shouldn’t have snapped like that, that wasn’t fair. I know you can’t help… That bit. But you can say no to drugs, surely?!” More silence. With a sad sigh, you unlock the door and let Ralph go ahead. “Want me to make you a cup of tea?” You ask, and he nods before running up the stairs.

You kick yourself internally for upsetting Ralph before then arguing with yourself. Why should you be apologising? You were right. It’s your holiday, too, and he should have thought more carefully. You have every right to be upset, yourself. But you’ll forgive Ralph for that, the way you always do, because you already know you’re going to lose him at some point, and that’s going to be painful enough, and if you can put it off for as long as possible, you’re going to. 

He pads back into the kitchen in his pyjamas, looking at you with his big doe eyes as you hand him a hot mug full of tea. “It seems to be the ordinary stuff,” he states, “because it’s only just about affecting me. Same way it always does.”

“Did you… Do it often?” You ask slowly. “To cope with stuff?”

“Heavens, no, it’s no coping mechanism!” He shakes his head. “Cocaine’s always been a staple at Penbury socials. It’s… Acquiring and using it was always the thing people liked having me around for,” he explains quietly as he takes a big sip from his mug. “It barely affects me these days, just makes me… More likeable, I suppose.”

Of course there’s a dreadfully sad story to go along with this. Just more fuel for you to feel bad about snapping at him. You walk over to him and wrap your arms around his shoulders as he continues drinking. “You know how much we all like having you around the way you are, Ralph. I mean, we might be able to make a citizen out of you yet if we just claim you as Scott and his partner’s adopted child!” You joke, and Ralph lets out a small, breathy laugh. 

“It’s… Hard to believe, still. Sometimes. Sorry,” he mutters, leaning down to rest his head against yours.

“You have to trust us, Ralphie,” you squeeze him gently, “that’s part of having friends. You like having us around, right?” He nods violently. “Right! So part of making sure we stay around is knowing we want to. If you don’t trust that people wanna be your friend, they’re gonna assume you don’t want them to be.”

“Is that what Scott and Connor will think of me, now?” he asks sadly.

“Well no, because they don’t know… That, what you’ve just told me.”

Even more quietly, he asks, “…Do you -?”

“Are you really asking me if I want you around?” You ask, raising your eyebrows at him. “Have I not done enough to prove my case there?!”

“More than,” he admits, still quiet. He takes another long sip and asks, “Does the TV here have all the films that we would have back at home?”

“Wanna watch Little Shop of Horrors while you come down?” You ask, amused, as Ralph nods in response. You let him curl up to lay his head on your lap as you both watch the film from the sofa Connor’s been sleeping on, Ralph’s foot tapping against the arm of it along with each song.

The rest of the gang return just before the movie ends, and they’re all happy to see that Ralph looks in relatively good condition. The pair of you retire to the bed soon after. Too tired to change out of your day clothes, you simply crawl into your side and sleep, forgetting to wish Ralph goodnight in your exhaustion.

You all decide that Thursday shall be another day on the pier, with Friday being a packing-up day due to the night out you have planned, so that you don’t have to worry about packing with a hangover and can head back as soon as you’re feeling well enough to on Saturday.

You start the day out in the arcade again, firstly making sure that you, Anna, Grace, Scott and Connor get your annual photos in the booth as per every year for as long as you can remember. You show Ralph and the others photos you have on your phone of reels from years past, to which they take great delight in seeing you all in younger years. “It’s nice to have friends that last,” Ralph smiles, and it makes your heart sink. Comments like that help your brain to justify keeping Ralph around regardless. He needs to be here, with his friends, with the people he loves and who love him. There’s been no major consequence so far. You start to wonder if there ever would be.

You quickly pull yourself from that train of thought, instead opting for the certainty of being out with your friends. Grace pulls Ralph towards the dance mats, itching to teach him, and you allow yourself to stand back with Grace’s boyfriend to watch them. Ralph may stomp on each arrow with such force that the ground shakes beneath you, but there’s no way you can comment on that when his face is lit up that much.

You lose track of him when Connor pulls him away to show him a shooting game, instead opting to go for one of the coin-pushers yourself. It seems as though Ralph also didn’t last long with that particular game, nor does he have the patience to wait for your tactical plays as he starts grabbing coins from your pot and placing them in the slots from behind you excitedly. You giggle uncontrollably as he keeps putting coins in and smugly adding the occasional, “See?” when a whole pile drops.

It’s only when you feel your back collide against his chest that you’re brought back to your senses, and you tug at his arm until you’re standing beside him instead, trying to keep your tone playful with an, “Alright, then, if you wanna play that way, don’t let me stop you!” as you find another game that’s easy ticket fodder.

Eventually, you tell Ralph that it’s time for him to face his ultimate fear, that you’re all going to ride the Crazy Mouse roller coaster. He nods, still agreeing to go on it with you all, though he remains quiet. Once you’re in the line for it, you try and brush your hand against his again to let him know you’re there for him, but he makes no attempt to hold it. You hope it’s because he’s getting braver, but his stoic expression doesn’t exactly give you that impression.

Since today is warmer than the others, none of you had really decided to wear hats today, which makes the state you all end up in after being spun and thrown around the roller coaster track all the more hilarious. Ralph’s curls especially are in full force, sticking up in all directions, which the fans who recognise him today point out a lot. You notice there are more today than ever before and check his name on Twitter to see your suspicions confirmed - people are starting to publicly announce sightings of Ralph in the wild, which is leading to people congregating with the sheer hopes of seeing him out in the wild. You’re not sure how many more of these appearances you can take.

You return to the hook-a-duck stall so that Ralph can proudly show off Clarence to the man running the stall. A young man with a mullet pouts about how he was told that he wasn’t “allowed” to keep a duck, even though it matched the red beanie his friend is wearing even today. The man behind the stall simply explains that Ralph was more charming, to the hat-wearer’s amusement.

You go back to playing more games until the people working the arcade inform you that it’s nearly closing time. All of you band your tickets together and divide them fairly to redeem a prize each, though Ralph insists that he doesn’t get a share. He is more than happy with Clarence alone. If only you’d known sooner that the best way to placate Ralph would be to stick a hook in a rubber duck’s head.

Connor picks a box that contains fuzzy car dice, “for a laugh”. It certainly does raise a lot of laughs when he opens the box to find that the ones he’s ended up with are pink, but he shrugs it off. Scott and his partner pick out as many Pokémon cards as their tickets will allow them to, Grace gets a toy monkey with magnets in its hands and feet while her boyfriend picks out an inflatable guitar. Despite having already won a rather large teddy at the can game the other day, you take pity on another soft toy that clearly looks like it got into a fight with the manufacturer and came out losing, opting to take it home with you. Ralph looks at it fearfully, and you shake it at him jokingly.

Friday holds the weight of being the last full day away. Everything feels as though it's happening in slow motion, that it isn't in real time. It doesn’t entirely help that the day is filled with the mundane act of packing until the real thing to look forward to later tonight, which now feels eons away.

 When it finally reaches lunchtime, you talk the others into getting delivery. “Whatever happened to the ‘we should get out of the house, lazybones’ mentality, eh?” Connor teases.

“Do you feel up to being there while Ralph gets accosted by fans again?” you ask bluntly. “Besides, you should see Twitter today, it’s obsessive,” you pull a face of disgust as you scroll through posts to show your friends.

“These people need Jesus,” pipes up Grace’s boyfriend.

“You said it, babe,” Grace herself adds. “Surprised they haven’t realised he’s staying here and started camping out.” Scott tentatively looks out of the window, but nods in relief to confirm that nobody’s waiting out there.

You decide to make it the feast to end all feasts, each of you ordering food from different places and all sitting amongst your plethora of food to talk about your highlights of the whole trip, compare photos and overall just enjoy each others’ company. Even Ralph seems to perk up, which you’re glad about. He’d been pretty reserved all morning, which makes sense given how dull the day’s events have been, but you’re glad to see that there isn’t something else keeping him quiet.

Finally, the night is upon you. Everyone’s promised that they’ll all be on watch in case anyone tries to approach Ralph, either weird fanatic or potential danger, so that you can just switch off and enjoy your last night before returning to London.

You feel as though you may get to really enjoy it when you catch the attention of a man who’s far from unattractive. He keeps making eye contact with you from where he’s stood at the bar and flashing his eyes in invitation. After a few pep talks with the girls, who seem a little hesitant at first but soon warm to the idea of you having a night where you finally get to flirt and be flirted with, and just get to feel special for a night. And who knows, maybe that’ll be all it is. Maybe you won’t even spend your last night back at the house. After all, what’s a holiday for if not to live totally differently to how you would at home?

When you finally approach the bar, he smirks, “Look who finally made a decision!”

“Look who’s already blowing their shot!” you reply in the same lilted tone, making him laugh. You exchange names and he offers to buy you a drink. This is everything you’ve been needing to fill your confidence gauge - mostly banter, with the occasional ice-breaker question and the more than occasional compliment thrown your way. And honestly, the way he already matches your wit without you constantly needing to explain yourself, or reassure that you’re joking, just makes him even more attractive in the moment.

Ralph watches on from a distance, absolutely seething. Of course, you deserve to be happy. He knows that. He knows that you clearly wouldn’t be happy with him, and that’s why you’ve been keeping him at arm’s length, constantly putting the time travelling situation between you and him. But Ralph absolutely cannot stand to see it happening in front of his eyes. And so, with nothing stopping him, he marches over to you and taps your arm. “Hello!”

Not expecting any interruptions, you jolt, “Jesus, Ralph, you scared the shit out of me! Uh, yeah, this is Ralph, my - flatmate,” you explain.

“That’s right, we live together back at home as well as here!” Ralph beams falsely at the other man. “So, what are we talking about?”

The man laughs awkwardly under his breath as he shuffles in place and you say through gritted teeth, “Uh, Ralph, do you think maybe Connor wants to talk to you?”

“Oh, heavens, no, he’s got a pair of young women on the go himself, the dog!” Ralph scoffs.

“Seems as though two is an awful lot of people for just one of him to manage. Think you could take one off his hands?” you ask, again trying to make it very obvious that you want him to leave.

He doesn’t seem to be taking the hint, though. “Oh, I’d only interrupt them!”

“How terrible that would be.” You deadpan, before addressing the man you’d been talking to. “I’m so sorry, I’ll be right back.”

“I’ll be here,” he tips his glass to you. “Don’t forget, it’s your turn to buy the next round!”

You shoot him a flirtatious smile and grab Ralph’s wrist to tug him away. “Listen, Ralph, mate, I think maybe… You should spend tonight more around one of the others, than with me. Yeah?”

“But what if I slip up and mention something about… The situation at hand?” he asks, gesturing at himself.

You tut exasperatedly, “I dunno, then maybe… Just really try not to bring it up? It’s not that hard, you haven’t done it yet. I just… I really needed this, Ralph. Please?”

“Are you going to leave me in the bed alone tonight?” he asks quietly. Sadly.

You sigh. “I dunno. Maybe? We’re all adults here, Ralph, you’ve spent long enough being able to sleep in my bed by yourself, I’m sure someone else’s won’t be too different.” You find Grace, who’s with her boyfriend and Anna, and park Ralph with all of them before returning to your date for the evening.

Ralph’s only half-listening to whatever everyone else is talking about. His attention is laser-focused on that man. His hair is the same colour as Ralph’s, and it’s curly just like his, but there’s more of it. His eyes are the same colour as Ralph’s, but they’re obscured with glasses. He’s taller than Ralph, and he makes you laugh more than Ralph does, and if the cup he’s holding was made of anything other than glass, Ralph would have certainly squeezed it out of shape by now, if not broken it entirely.

While the girls take a momentary bathroom break, Grace’s boyfriend nudges Ralph. “You alright, mate? You look like the nerves are taking over. Wanna do a couple shots with me? It’ll take the edge off.”

Ralph agrees, hoping that perhaps the blanket of numbness over his brain that only alcohol causes will keep it quiet. Grace’s boyfriend has already paid for the shots when Ralph looks at them in horror. The last time he saw a shot glass filled with clear liquid, it resulted in all kinds of emotions. Still, perhaps it’s another clear spirit. Perhaps it won’t make Ralph feel the way he did that night.

Or maybe this is also vodka, and once both the shots that Ralph takes hit, perhaps he’s on his way back over to you. “Hello, again!”

You look at your date with resignation. He looks back at you with sympathy. It’s him who regards the new third wheel in the conversation, “Alright, mate? Ralph, isn’t it? How you doing?”

Ralph pays him no attention at all. “I fear I have once again gotten myself into a predicament,” he tells you.

“You’re a big boy, I’m sure you can get yourself out of it,” you flash warning eyes at Ralph to get back to literally anyone else.

He shakes his head, “No, no, it’s, um. It’s something you had explained to me. What are the different drinks that make me feel different things, again?”

You hold your hand to your head. “Ralph, mate… Do you feel as if something’s been put in your drink, or…?”

“I’m not sure what that would feel like,” he frowns, “but you know these things better than I do!”

“Here, look,” the man you’d been talking to stands up straight. So tall. “This has been great. Really great. But I think your flatmate needs you tonight, so… I’ll see you around, yeah?”

You shake your head dejectedly. “We literally go back to London first thing in the morning.”

He frowns at you sympathetically. “You’ve got a phone though, right?” You take it out to find that it’s out of battery.

You curse internally, “Knew there was something I forgot to do tonight. I’m so sorry.”

“Well. Perhaps in another time. It was lovely meeting you.” He looks Ralph up and down with a slight look of jealous defeat. “You too, mate,” he adds to Ralph through gritted teeth before stroking your arm once more, letting it linger for as long as possible until he walks away.

Something in you finally snaps. Every part of you is just… So done with Ralph right now. And he has the audacity to perk up again once it’s just the two of you?! “What the fuck was that about, Ralph?!”

“Well, I was just going to say that Grace’s… Gentleman friend had bought me some of those shots and I think they’re the sort that have the effect on me that you remember better than I,” Ralph explains with a slight shrug.

You shake your head. “Nah, nah, there’s more to it than that. I made it very clear that I was hitting it off with him, and I just wanted a night where I could -” You cut yourself off, but Ralph feels the tension, soaking it in himself.

“Oh, go on and get it over with, won’t you?” Ralph asks, once again playing the sad card. “It’s obvious there’s things you want to say to me, just say them to my face, please.”

“Okay, you know that’s not fair when you pull that shit, because then it makes me feel bad when I am allowed to be pissed off at you!” you snap. “You want me to say it to your face?! Alright, how’s about this, then. Having you at my ankles 24/7 is fucking exhausting, Ralph. I can’t even go on one night out and talk to one person that isn’t you, I - I didn’t sign up to be some random guy’s mother -”

“I do not see you like I would Mother!” Ralph defends, offence very obvious in his expression.

“Then why am I the one always cooking for you, always cleaning for you, always fucking working overtime because I’m paying for your bills and your food and your clothes -”

“Because, as you keep telling me, I’m not a real person here!” Ralph hisses through his teeth.

“It’s not just that, though, it’s the attitude that comes with it. You are so used to your little rich boy life that you don’t see how much I’m going through. My back is in constant fucking agony from months on that godawful sofa. I don’t get a single day off to myself anymore. I mean, fuck, you’ve had more dates than I have since you got here! I supported you putting yourself out there, even though it was one of the stupidest risks you could have taken -”

“Well, it’s a good job that didn’t work out then, isn’t it? Because once again, nobody wants anything to do with Ral-”

“Here it is again. I can’t just feel something, you have to also be feeling it twice as hard so that you’re the focus here, I - I can’t have anything for myself anymore!” you shout exasperatedly. “Not even one night where for once, I get to feel wanted. I - y’know, everyone fucking falls at their feet for you, you’ve even had people ask you out while we’re here! And nothing was stopping you if you wanted to! But the moment I want to indulge in the idea that maybe someone out there would show an interest in me -”

Ralph scoffs, “That man was only interested in one thing to do with you, and it’s much too vulgar. You deserve to be courted in the appropriate -”

“We’re not in the 1920s anymore, Ralph!” You press your fingers to your temples. “It’s not a bad thing for someone to just… Want you like that. And even then, let’s hash this out. Let’s say I could have been courted by him. You think someone like that is gonna think I’m worth sticking around for when I’ve got another man constantly in my shadow, fighting for my attention? I mean, fuck, what are you gonna do without me when you go back, eh?”

“Ah, again with the going home!” Ralph’s voice is audibly slurring by now. “It’s all you ever want to talk about with me, just tell me the truth already, it’ll hurt less. Tell me you can’t wait to be rid of me.”

“For fuck’s sake, Ralph, I don’t want you gone! Far fucking from it! But I’m not gonna mess with shit we know nothing about, and putting everything back where it was is logically the best thing to do.”

Ralph looks on the verge of crying. “So, that’s it, then. I’m not even worth a -one, I’m just a -thing now.”

“No, that’s not -” You take a deep breath. “Look. We’re going off on tangents that don’t even make fucking sense now. I’m going back to the house. To the bed, don’t worry your fragile little head, I’m not gonna go stand on a street corner like the harlot I am,” you pull a face, blinking back your own tears. “Thank you for ruining the one week a year I actually look forward to.”

You storm away from Ralph, though you find most of the group congregated together at the bar. You stop by them to explain that you and Ralph got into a fight, that you don’t want to talk about it but could they please just make sure he doesn’t do anything stupid. They promise that they will, and so you head out of the bar, straight into one of the parked taxis and finally let yourself cry as it drives you back to the house.

next chapter

[idealisticrealism]

TCL 3x05 thoughts

The main things:

This ep starts literally immediately after last ep ended, and then takes place over 2 full days

Looks like Thony and Jorge swapped numbers at some point lol; I guess Dante got tired of being the go-between haha. But for a guy that was so concerned yesterday about Thony missing her interview, he sure seems chill about pulling her away today… only to have nothing for her but an unintentionally murdered guy and an uncomfortable fight with his sister lol. That’s a bit embarrassing for you there, Jorge! I like that he later ended the business call about Nadia’s payout to be able to answer her, and then followed through on her request to talk to Ramona on her behalf. And then she shows up at his office– did she google him or did he actually tell her where to find him??-- and tries to convince him to nullify the Amber Alert, and ngl I enjoy the fact that much of their dynamic so far is basically Thony either ordering or begging him to do something, and him being like “No” and making some mocking remark to her about it… and then later doing exactly what she asked/suggested lol. Thony (and especially the potent combination of Thony and Luca) really does have some kind of magic power over the men of this family… though Arman seemed to accept it far more quickly and eagerly than Jorge, who’s still half-heartedly trying to resist haha. But then again, the man still showed up at her court hearing and not only provided the exact thing she asked for, but he also stayed to see the outcome and her reaction?? Like I’m absolutely hearing Nadia’s words to Arman rn: “You love the way she looks at you when you do these things for her. When you are her hero”... Jorge got his first real taste of that during the last ep, and looks like he already wants more haha

Thony and Ramona are clashing more and more which is potentially going to be very problematic for Thony when they lose Arman and she is no longer shielded by her connection to him… but I guess that’s when Jorge’s growing regard for her is going to come into play, and create an interesting divide with the siblings…

Poor Thony reliving the trauma of losing Luca, only even more terrifying this time because instead of Marco (who sucked but was at least relatively safe), he could be with someone who intends to hurt him. “We’ve been down this road before” yeah in more ways than one

“You and Armando will work together, so when I’m gone…(etc)” okay this is a very odd statement for a 50-something to make??? And she later says something about bringing Arman home ‘while there’s still time’-- time for him, or her?? Like is Ramona secretly dying and that’s why she’s so determined to get Arman back, so Jorge will still have family watching over him? Surely the writers wouldn’t use a plotline like that though, not given how we lost Adan…….? 

Okay let’s all pretend that we believe that a 6 year old kid, who had barely experienced the world outside his own bedroom before a few months ago, managed to navigate the streets of a major city on foot to a location that’s a 10 minute drive away, and then also somehow snuck into a large public facility undetected and didn't raise red flags as an unaccompanied kid hanging there for hours lol

Ugh so much love for the courtroom scene and the fam all giving their testimony. I love that they were all clearly ready to commit perjury if needed (eg by covering up Thony’s shady activities if asked about it) and that they also said such beautiful, heartfelt things, because god did Thony need to hear those things. After everything she has gone through, and everything that her actions to protect Luca put the rest of the family through, she’d clearly started to question (like we saw in the kitchen earlier with Fi)  whether she is actually truly good– a good mother, a good family member, and a good person in general– or if she only brings pain to those around her.  The forgiveness and support of her family doesn’t erase what she’s done, but it is going to be a huge part of how she moves forward and grows as a person, and I’m really looking forward to seeing more of that journey.

I also loved that the people trying to take Luca away were two crusty old guys, while Thony’s lawyer (who looked like she was trying not to cry when Thony did her big speech), and the judge, and of course Susan (who, while on the CPS side, is actually fairly impartial and in some ways shows a lot of regard for Thony, and didn’t raise an objection even though she could have) are all women. It feels like a subtle nod to the themes of both motherhood and women supporting other women in this show, and that’s really cool. 

Other stuff:

Congrats to Fi for finally getting to have her own Traumatised Showering Scene haha, I think Thony has had at least 2 or 3 by this point. But I did feel for Fi and Chris that they barely even got to begin to unpack what happened to them because things were just immediately about Luca. Also ngl that music/voiceover combo right at the start with the abrupt fadeout was a bit weird lol

“Sometimes I wish I was a turtle, so I could hide in my shell” #relatable

Love the sweet JD/Fi stuff, though this dude needs to recognise his place in the family hierarchy and not make calls that aren’t his to make lol. Leave the dealing with big important stuff to the women, buddy, you’re out of your depth!  

Speaking of dudes messing things up… seriously Dante? Accidentally killing the best lead your bosses have to getting their relative back? That’s embarrassingly amateurish. Unless there’s actually more going on here than we realise, and he did it deliberately to keep the guy from talking??

Ok seriously how many doors lead outside from Luca’s room?? I know it’s a converted sun-room and not a proper bedroom, but still, they should at least be locked if not also securely barricaded. Geez.

Ah the many facets of Jorge, comfortable in a homeless camp and while torturing a guy in a warehouse, but also in a courtroom and a fancy corner office, and also while kneeling in a kitchen doorway to earnestly accept a gift of a cupcake from a 5 year old lol

Thony always tells Luca she’s never going to let anything bad happen to him… but uhhh, a little too late there, don’t you think Thony? Poor kid has been through more ‘bad things’ than most adults, and most of them have happened within the last 6 months lol

Lol at Thony trying to tell the officer to drop the charges against Dante and he’s just like ‘nope’ haha. I bet she really misses her surgeon days when she could just give orders and people would follow them without question

No Nadia this week! Honestly it felt weird not to see her; it really feels like she is part of the family now, and I’m looking forward to more of her and Thony working together

Goddamn I really gotta learn Spanish.

[whyyoualwayssoradical]

Nonconsensual deepfake pornography is just a click away on popular search engines like Google and Microsoft’s Bing.

Deepfake pornography often grafts a person’s face into a real pornographic scene — for example, a famous woman’s face will be “swapped” with an adult star’s face, making it appear that the famous woman is nude or engaged in a sexual act.

NBC News found that deepfake pornographic images featuring the likenesses of female celebrities were the first images Google and other top search engines surfaced in searches for many women’s names and the word “deepfakes,” as well as general terms like “deepfake porn” or “fake nudes.” The searches were conducted with safe-search tools turned off.

Legal experts, advocates and victims say nonconsensual deepfake porn has grown into a crisis, and they’re asking tech platforms to step up where laws and law enforcement have yet to take action. A growing number of states have enacted or introduced laws to govern the use of deepfakes, particularly in elections, but nonconsensual deepfake porn has only continued to spread.

NBC News searched the combination of a name and the word “deepfakes” with 36 popular female celebrities on Google and Bing. A review of the results found nonconsensual deepfake images and links to deepfake videos in the top Google results for 34 of those searches and the top Bing results for 35 of them. More than half of the top results were links to a popular deepfake website or a competitor. The popular deepfake website has cultivated a market for nonconsensual deepfake porn of celebrities and private figures.

Googling “fake nudes” returned links to multiple apps and programs to create and view nonconsensual deepfake porn in the first six results, followed by six articles about high school boys’ allegedly using the technology to create and share deepfake nude images of their female classmates. On Bing, searching “fake nudes” returned dozens of results of nonconsensual deepfake tools and websites before surfacing an article about the harms of the phenomenon.

Bing’s AI chatbot, Copilot, which appears as an option for search results, tells users that it can’t show them deepfake porn. Copilot says, “The use of deepfakes is unethical and can have serious consequences.” But dozens of links to and examples of nonconsensual deepfake porn are a click away on Bing.

The findings underscore the growing prevalence of nonconsensual deep fake pornography and call into question what action technology companies are taking to limit their spread, even as tech companies are pouring resources into AI initiatives like Google’s Colab and Bard and the products from OpenAI, in which Microsoft is a major investor. Google’s lack of proactive patrolling for abuse has made it and other search engines useful platforms for people looking to engage in deepfake harassment campaigns, according to experts.

Google’s core web results don’t have policies about AI-generated content, but Google said its search features, like panels with selected information, don’t allow manipulated media or sexually explicit content. Google’s Play app store forbids “apps determined to promote or perpetuate demonstrably misleading or deceptive imagery, videos and/or text.” However, Google’s Play Store continues to host an app that has previously advertised the creation of pornographic deepfakes.

Google allows deepfake victims to request the removal of such content from search results through a form, but it isn’t proactively searching for and delisting deepfakes itself. The takedown request page says, “We only review the URLs that you or your authorized representative submit in the form.”

A Google spokesperson said in a statement: “We understand how distressing this content can be for people affected by it, and we’re actively working to bring more protections to Search. Like any search engine, Google indexes content that exists on the web, but we actively design our ranking systems to avoid shocking people with unexpected harmful or explicit content that they aren’t looking for.

“As this space evolves, we’re in the process of building more expansive safeguards, with a particular focus on removing the need for known victims to request content removals one-by-one,” the statement continued.

While Google dominates search engine traffic, alternative search engines like Microsoft’s Bing and the independent search engine DuckDuckGo also feature fake nude images of celebrity women in search results. The content featured on top image search results for Bing includes fake nude photos of former teen Disney Channel female actors, and some of the images use pictures of their faces that appeared to be taken before they turned 18. (A reverse image search for some of the faces used in some of the photos returned results that were posted online before the actors turned 18.)

A spokesperson for Microsoft also pointed to a form where victims of nonconsensual intimate imagery (NCII) can report it appearing in Bing search results. In August 2023, Microsoft clarified that it considers sexually-explicit deepfakes to fall under its NCII policy.

The Microsoft spokesperson said in a statement: “The distribution of non-consensual intimate imagery (NCII) is a gross violation of personal privacy and dignity with devastating effects for victims. Microsoft prohibits NCII on our platforms and services, including the soliciting of NCII or advocating for the production or redistribution of intimate imagery without a victim’s consent."

[speakingofdoorknobs]

I was tagged by @mikesmoustache

name: ehhhhhhhh we'll go with AJ (I'm too old to feel comfortable using my full name online)

star sign: Cancer - I have never seen a zodiac lighter with my sign on it, which is a shame because it would be hilarious to offer to people ominously.

birthday: June 26

height: 5'10" (~177cm)

time: 1.30 am

favorite bands/artists: Top 3: Queen, Depeche Mode, Devotchka in that order. After that I can only give categories, not ranks.

last movie: in a theater: The Addams Family/at home: The Incredibles (just happy it wasn't one of the Cars movies again)

last show: Currently rewatching 'Allo 'Allo

when did i create this blog: this specific blog was created March of 2011

what i post: on this blog, just shiny things I like - stuff comes in waves as I get into different things, but Star Trek and Disco Elysium are pretty constant content. Also cats.

last thing i googled: "can you skip a ring on water" (wanted to see if it was plausible for a character to dramatically toss a ring into a lake and have it skim/skip)

other blogs: okay, so: This blog started as a sideblog of All Our Yestertomorrows, which was a comic I was drawing based on the TTRPG we were playing at the time (a mashup of several White Wolf settings). I kind of ran out of steam on that (I should really get back to it, I found the binder with my game notes again), and decided that I'd switch this blog over to be under another account I'd made to use as a portfolio (@effulgentinara), which is only for original work like fanart, jewelry, sketches, etc. Unfortunately, this causes some confusion since I mostly interact with everyone through this side blog.

Please, please @staff - let me either make this its own account or let me swap which is my main and which is my sideblog, or at least let me choose which account replies and asks are marked as being from. It's been eleven years, I think I deserve this.

do i get asks: Not often, but I always enjoy them.

following around: 100. I've determined that's the maximum number of people I can follow without feeling overwhelmed trying to keep up with Tumblr, and it's a pleasantly round number.

average hours of sleep:

My personal best/worst is technically only around 50 solid hours awake, but yeah, I'm really bad about just... forgetting? to sleep? But I'm trying to be better about it recently.

instruments: couple of years of piano lessons that I could probably dredge up with a little refresher (don't currently own a piano or working keyboard so I'm out of practice), guitar, ukulele, a little bit of flute, playing around with an electronic drum pad I bought as a treat, every now and then I give that toy accordion a shot again, and recently I've been enjoying the otomatone I got for my birthday

what i’m wearing:  t-shirt and shorts (with pockets!)

dream job: children's book illustrator or just creating weird little games (I do some stuff in my spare time, but don't have a lot of chances to work on it)

dream trip: would be nice to go to Japan (particularly the Korakuen Gardens), but if I'm being perfectly honest my main motivation for brushing up on my French is to go visit Parc Astérix someday.

nationality: American/Irish (technically UK as well, but I've never bothered to file the paperwork because I don't really have any plans to live there anytime soon)

favorite song: Fire Escape in the Sea by Sea Power may have managed to dethrone '39 by Queen, or has at least tied

last book i’ve read: Does an epic fanfic completely re-writing Star Trek: TNG but with Tasha surviving count? If not, then I think it was either Howl's Moving Castle or James Acaster's Classic Scrapes.

top 3 fictional universes i would like to live in: Star Trek (fully automated luxury gay space communism FTW), Animal Crossing, or Wallace and Gromit

Tagging @shoutsindwarvish @tiwaztyrsfist @singedsun @nerdishnerd @angelchrys @tardigradesonthemoon @thewinterarcher

[zealoptics]

Zeal Optics - The Famous Project Update

I am delighted to wear the Zeal Optics sunglasses with Autosun lenses for my life afloat as a professional sailor. When I signed up to a new and ambitious sailing campaign, I knew we needed the best equipment possible to allow us to achieve our best performance. For this reason I got back in contact with Zeal Optics and explained the project to the team and asked if they would support us going forwards. In the short period of time since then a great deal has happened but, as I have discovered, even the journey towards this speed record is going to be a fast one.

From initial conception of the idea a couple of years ago, project Skipper and Founder Alexia Barrier has been moving this project forward at pace. It has been 26 years since a female skipper with an all-female crew attempted the Jules Verne Record and that was Tracy Edwards on her catamaran, Royal and Sun Alliance. Sadly, Tracy and her crew were unsuccessful with the attempt being aborted at Cape Horn after a dismasting. This particular record setting space has been male dominated since then, with opportunities for women to gain multihull experience in sailing significantly limited.

It has taken over a quarter of a century for another all-female record attempt to come together and is testament to Alexia’s determination that her dream has now become reality. Although the Famous Projects’ goal is ultimately to break the Jules Verne Record with an all-female team, Alexia wants to use the momentum the project generates to create a pathway for young people by allowing access to the team and boat and to provide more opportunities for young sailors. By opening up these avenues, she hopes to inspire budding sailors to dream and dare. Alexia is a champion of successful females, athletes, entrepreneurs and business leaders and keen to shine a light on women doing great things. I firmly believe that when women support each other, there is no limit to what can be achieved.

I was lucky enough to have been asked to take on the role of co-skipper for the project. I always knew that if I was going to attempt another circumnavigation (this being my 7th) it would have to be something special and this certainly ticks all the boxes. It is such a privilege to be part of such an exciting project.  

We are training on a MOD 70 trimaran in a mixed format. By sailing with guys that have raced these boats for many miles, we are able to tap into their experience and knowledge to fast track our learning. Our MOD70 is very aptly named after a record setting bird whose Latin name is Limosa. The longest non-stop flight recorded for a Limosa was 11 days, over which this plucky little bird covered a staggering 8425 miles.

When it comes to our record, we will be swapping the MOD 70 for IDEC Sport, a 32 metre maxi trimaran. She has great pedigree having held the current record of 40 days, 23 hours and 30 minutes and 30 second for the last 7 years. Currently undergoing an extensive refit, IDEC Sport will be re-launched at the end of May 2024.

Any activity at sea requires safety equipment but just as important is the requirement to look after ourselves whilst onboard. This is not just about the sun protection that we need to think about as our skin is exposed to all the elements but also the impact on our bodies. Eyes are often overlooked, and we are sailing at extreme speeds with wind and water hitting our faces at force. Over time eye infections are common as our eyes take such a beating. One way to protect them is with sunglasses and appropriate lenses that can protect us from the intense exposure to bright sunlight and reflected glare from the environment we operate in. At extreme speeds sunglasses are just not enough, and we wear googles. Having unrestricted vision whilst protecting our eyes allows us to concentrate no matter how extreme the conditions get. Zeal Optics have provided us with googles allowing us to concentrate and focus without fear or restricted vision. As the conditions don’t turn off at night, we also needed sets of googles with clear lenses to allow the performance to continue in the hours of darkness as well.

We have covered a number of miles since receiving the googles, both racing and delivering, which have been important for us to use and test equipment, get to know each other and learn how far we can push the boat in different environments. Mistakes were made and lessons learnt on the races and we are growing in confidence every mile we sail on the boat.

Limosa is now back in France ready for a fun summer of training and even more exciting is we will soon be sailing our big boat in preparation for the record attempt next year. With our eyes protected from the elements we have our eyes fully focussed on the prize that is within reach.

Dee Caffari MBE

Co Skipper The Famous Project.

[spacenutspod]

5 min readPreparations for Next Moonwalk Simulations Underway (and Underwater) When a physical condition limits mobility, getting around is easier with EyeGaze Edge. The eye-tracking technology integrates with the Ability Drive application used with motorized mobility devices, enabling hands-free control of a wheelchair’s motion. Credit: EyeGaze Inc. Communicating when a traumatic brain injury, stroke, or disease has made speech impossible can be daunting. Specialized eye-tracking technology uses eye movement to enable people living with disabilities to connect one-on-one, over the phone, or via the internet. Eye-tracking systems for computers pinpoint a person’s gaze – where the eye is looking at a screen – by reflecting infrared light off the cornea and capturing it with a camera, using image-processing software to determine the eye’s orientation. The technology isn’t new, but it has become much more widely accessible, thanks in part to a collaboration between NASA’s Jet Propulsion Laboratory in Southern California and a Fairfax, Virginia-based company called Eyegaze Inc. When the company built the first model in 1988, its computers were bulky, requiring three shipping boxes for equipment and a company staff member to set up the system. That cost limited access, and the learning process could be intimidating.  In 1998, NASA and Eyegaze entered a public-private partnership via Congressional funding to make the hardware smaller, more portable, and affordable without compromising efficiency. It also reduced the weight of the original system by six times and its volume by nearly the same factor. Other advancements served as a springboard for two more decades of development. By collaborating with JPL, the two entities were able to miniaturize and improve the company’s Eyegaze Edge system and lower costs, eliminating barriers to ownership of this communications technology. “Working with NASA, we were able to make the device less bulky,” said Preethi Vaidyanathan, an engineer with Eyegaze. “Since then, we integrated the external components into a small camera.” It mounts above or below a standard computer screen and requires less than 15 seconds to calibrate to an individual’s gaze. Visual Surfing Minesweeper and other video games adapted to use eye-tracking technology are just one form of entertainment made possible by EyeGaze for people living with disabilities.Credit: EyeGaze Inc. As personal electronic devices and internet access became commonplace, Eyegaze customers wanted to do more than type. The company’s work with NASA and other government partners put it in a position to meet that demand. Eyeworld integrates with computers, mobile phones, and tablets, allowing the Eyegaze camera to function as an external mouse and keyboard. By enabling almost any computer function, it lets users chat online, post to social media, send emails, text, or make phone calls. It’s also possible to change room lighting, adjust thermostat settings, and operate other environmental controls using Amazon Echo and Google Home via pages of specialized buttons with one-glance button controls.  During the COVID-19 pandemic, Eyegaze integrated communications programs such as Zoom and WhatsApp to allow people to connect with their family and friends. To help combat a sense of isolation, the company added meditation apps and Window Swap, which stream the views from different windows worldwide. Virtual museums take the viewer on guided tours. A music streaming service syncs to favorite music apps and offers the International Radio Garden app to sample music from other cultures. Access to online gaming communities provides another way to connect. “We are constantly thinking about what the customers want. One thing is freedom of movement, so controlling a wheelchair gives them that to some extent,” said Vaidyanathan. Eyegaze Edge integrates with the Ability Drive application used with motorized mobility devices. Looking at a specific button enables hands-free control of a wheelchair’s motion. The Right to Speak Eye-tracking hardware and software make it possible for a person to communicate using the movement of their eyes. This keyboard screen is one of many Eyegaze developed for people with a full range of eye motion. A vertical keyboard is available for those who can only look up and down. Credit: EyeGaze Inc. Numerous medical conditions can lead to the kind of physical paralysis making it impossible to speak. Well-publicized brain and spinal cord injuries in athletes have led to broader awareness. But there are a host of other causes, such as cerebral palsy, ALS, multiple sclerosis, muscular dystrophy, and spinal muscular atrophy. These conditions can result in locked-in syndrome, which paralyzes all voluntary muscles except those that control eye movement. Eye-tracking software is a lifeline for patients, using what may be their only remaining voluntary movement, but even that can be impeded.  Eyegaze Edge measures several eye features, making it possible for the tracker to work even when less of the pupil is visible. The company employs clinical specialists who can troubleshoot issues that may prevent customers from using the system, eye conditions like cataracts, dry eyes, and eyelids that droop, partly covering the pupil. The company now serves individuals in 44 countries, including nations in Southeast Asia and Africa. Adults, children as young as 18 months old, military veterans, and others can communicate using only their eyes. If only vertical eye movement is possible, Eyegaze Edge offers a special vertical keyboard screen. Pages of commonly used phrases communicate a statement with a single glance. Large, easy-to-use buttons allow patients to communicate directly with healthcare providers and caregivers for everyday needs. Clinicians use Eyegaze Edge and teach their patients how to communicate using the technology. In some cases, Vaidyanathan said, this technology even allows people to share their final thoughts with family and friends. “NASA helped us get our technology to the size of a laptop – small and sleek. But we continue to investigate and design our solutions to meet ongoing needs. Communication is a key right, so we must accommodate these different challenges,” she said. NASA has a long history of transferring technology to the private sector. The agency’s Spinoff publication profiles NASA technologies that have transformed into commercial products and services, demonstrating the broader benefits of America’s investment in its space program. Spinoff is a publication of the Technology Transfer program in NASA’s Space Technology Mission Directorate (STMD). For more information on how NASA brings space technology down to Earth, visit: spinoff.nasa.gov By Margo PierceNASA’s Spinoff Publication Share Details Last Updated Feb 20, 2024 Related TermsSpinoffsTechnology TransferTechnology Transfer & Spinoffs Explore More 4 min read La movilidad aérea avanzada hace que los viajes sean más accesibles Article 2 months ago 5 min read ‘Digital Winglets’ for Real Time Flight Paths Born from NASA Tech Article 3 months ago 5 min read NASA’s Webb Telescope Improves Simulation Software Article 4 months ago Keep Exploring Discover Related Topics Missions Humans in Space Climate Change Solar System

[techinfofacts]

10 Most Important Programming Languages To Learn In 2022 (In-Demand)

Based on what employers are looking for from applicants, we determine which the top programming language demand is every year. Software development offers more options than any other career path. During your degree program or coding Bootcamp, you have the option of choosing an industry and product or learning a programming language.

Which of the top programming languages should you learn? It is ideal to have a basic understanding of a few of the most in-demand programming languages when looking for a job. Here is a blog you can read to get started.

We analyzed Indeed job descriptions to find which programming languages appear most frequently and compared it to previous years to find the most in-demand programming languages in 2023. Our previous top seven programming languages will help us better understand how we decided on the top programming languages of 2022.

Here are the top 7 programming languages compared to 2022 from previous years

On the basis of the chart above, every other top language except PHP and Perl has grown in demand in 2023. Even though they were two of the biggest risers in 2021 when most other languages stagnated, neither made it into the top 10. Many popular programming languages went back to basics in 2022.

Coronavirus dropped the demand for every programming language

All of the languages on this year’s list have seen an increase in demand. The Covid-19 pandemic changed what we know about software development. It has become increasingly important to hire employees due to the pandemic, especially programmers.

Every top language’s demand declined significantly between 2020 and 2021, as shown in the chart above. The number of Python jobs fell by around 30% from approximately 74,000 to 70,500.

It’s a completely different story this year. In particular, Java, the first programming language we found to have over 80,000 active job listings, saw a huge jump, becoming the top language with over 50,000 jobs listed. Python, Java, SQL, and Javascript all have over 50,000 jobs listed.

Considering that the U.S. economy alone created jobs than any other year ever, it makes sense. In spite of the fact that the recovery from March 2020 took some time and is still occurring in many ways-computer programming jobs have returned in a big way.

Which languages will be the most popular in 2023?

Employers are looking for programming languages that are most in demand.

Given that the ranking had undergone many drastic changes recently, we see a few relatively big changes from last year. Three newcomers made the list this year (Go, C, and Assembly), while three dropped off (R, Visual Basic, and Objective C).

Why you should learn Go

It won’t surprise many that Go is on the rise, although it’s certainly not the most surprising. This relatively new open-source project was created in 2009 and is currently used by some of the most popular and important open-source applications and companies. Docker, Kubernetes, Cloudflare, Ethereal, Gitlab, Uber, Google, Netflix, Twitch, and many others are included in that list.

In light of the fact that generations born after the Internet will become more influential in online culture, it is likely that Go will remain popular for a long time. The companies that use Google worthwhile important to note. You’ll need knowledge of Go if you want to work at a large, but growing tech company offering meaningful products.

Python loses its top spot

There was no coding language around that grew faster than Python in 2018. Since then, it has cooled down a little bit. Java has surpassed Python as the most popular programming language,

How does this affect people looking to learn Python or programmers who already did? Fortunately, not much. For several years now both Java and Python have been the two most popular programming languages, swapping the top spot three times now.

It is still one of the most widely used languages in modern coding, despite it being relatively simple to learn. The demand for Python actually grew this year because it is still one of the easiest languages to learn. Hence, PyPython. 1 spot is not because of its decline in popularity, but rather because Java has become more in demand as a programming language.

There is likely to be an increase in Python’s popularity as more and more aspiring or experienced programmers pick up the language. In the meantime, most developers should learn Python so they can take imperative of the market when it becomes saturated.

Objective C vs. C

One notable change on this year’s list compared to last is the absence of Objective C and a newcomer, C, taking its spot. The two languages share some similarities, but there are a few differences that might explain this change.

In the Apple ecosystem, Objective C is heavily used in macOS and iOS. It is less common outside of the Apple ecosystem. Since 2014, Swift has been Apple’s standard programming language. Despite the changes, Objective C will continue to have its uses. However, it makes sense that C, a more general language that was used to develop Objective C, has grown more in recent years.

2022’s risers fall quickly

Last year, Visual Basic and R climbed the charts with increased demand. The early half of the year was particularly unique due to the effects of the pandemic on the job market. The situation was different in 2022, however.

In addition to falling drastically, these two also fell considerably. In 2021, 50,000 listings were found for each language, compared to 7,000 listings for R and 4,800 listings for Visual Basic. Due to the fact that both jobs became scarce once 2021’s jobs were filled, this steep decline may occur.

Demand for programmers isn’t going anywhere

Programmers are no longer in demand because of the pandemic. Although demand dropped, it wasn’t as significant as in other industries, so it’s not surprising that things have picked up again. It is pertinentrtant to note that demand should only increase from here on out.

It is noteworthy to note that demand for the last few items on the list has dropped significantly. While most other programming languages declined this year, several of the most in-demand coding languages saw the biggest increases. Companies may be evaluating only the most commonly used languages. One company or one trend can boost the popularity of a new language, as it did with Java this year, so coding languages won’t become homogenized.

Source:- https://techinfofacts.com/programming-languages/

[doctorgreys]

Bloodhunt statue

Bloodhunt statue how to#

Bloodhunt statue free#

Click on each page to be taken to detailed walkthroughs on the individual questlines. You will also typically receive a notification on the screen letting you know you've completed an objective.īelow is a table of all the quests that are available in Bloodhunt, and which NPCs you need to speak to in order to start objectives. Each time you complete a quest, it will be marked as such on the in-game map. When you drop into Prague, using the ability of your heightened senses in the area you've been asked to visit will sometimes show the location for your quest objective with a small blue glowing object appearing. You can also see the quest objectives marked on the map as you load into a game, or as you check the map during a battle royale. They'll be listed, broken down into separate parts, with the quest objectives there in case you need a reminder. You can find any quests you take on from the main menu, just go over to the quest log tab to see each one.

Bloodhunt statue how to#

In this guide I will show you how to find the statue in your own game with a simple walkthrough and.

Bloodhunt statue free#

However, it is easier to locate than the previous item. The first quest of the free to play Battle Royale Game Bloodhunt asks you to find a statue. Like the opening task, little information gets provided about its whereabouts. This quest will become available after you have completed the first, which requires you to find a statue. Most will take multiple games to complete, as you'll have to go back and forth between characters in Elysium and hitting the streets of Prague. The Bloodhunt, Bloody Roots Quest Part 2 involves collecting a painting. He can be found directly in front of the spawn area behind. Watch popular content from the following creators: Bloodhunt(bloodhunt), Heist(onmeheist). As of 2006, their asking price to buy Lenin was $250,000.There are currently 12 quests for you to complete in Bloodhunt. Bloodhunt Bloody Roots: Statue Location In order to start the Bloody Roots quest, you’ll need to approach Custos, Elysium’s overseer. Discover short videos related to bloodhunt drip on TikTok. The family of Lewis Carpenter, who owns this statue of Lenin is trying to sell it to the highest bidder. Spawn as close to this region as you can, and rush towards the red square on your. The official website of Fremont has a page devoted to the history of this statue and can be read in more detail here. The final step takes you to the Graveyard, where you have to swap out a statue to assist this missing agent. I looked on Google Maps and could not find Lenin Square (I'm assuming it doesn't exist anymore) anywhere near the hospital so I've provided coordinates to the hospital helicopter landing pad, which stands out on the map. She mentioned she'd been a localized deity and that her healing waters were back in Bath. It is sited here temporarily for viewing and sale, both to fulfill Carpenter’s dream, that the work be seen and enjoyed and eventually find a permanent home and to serve as a reminder of an important historical period.įrom, it mentions this statue as being taking down from its original installation in 1998 in Lenin Square, across the street from the main hospital in Poprad, Slovakia. Carpenter mortgaged his house to acquire the sculpture and brought it back to Issaquah. From the website: (Carpenter) recognized Venkov’s skill and craftsmanship and the boldness of his portrayal, and was determined that the statue be preserved. It was found lying face down by Lewis Carpenter, an American veteran teaching English in Poprad, in a scrapyard waiting to be destroyed for the value of its bronze. to get blood hunt where is the statue in blood hunt what is blood hunt como. It took Venkov 10 years to create this piece, but shortly after its installation, it was removed during the 1989 Czechoslovakian 'Velvet' Revolution and eventual downfall of the Soviet Union. Quest the Best Solo player on Bloodhunt returns with another crazy high kill. This statue was sculpted by renowned artist, Emil Venkov, in 1988, and installed in Poprad, Slovakia. Quest Text: Find and retrieve a statue for Custos as a gift for Kirill. Visitors to Fremont, a district of Seattle, WA, will notice a large, bronze statue of Vladimir Lenin that stands tall and triumphant at the corner of Fremont Place N and N 36th St. Bloody Roots is the first quest available at the release of Bloodhunts Early.

[trusthunters]

Run datacrow on synology

#Run datacrow on synology android#

#Run datacrow on synology software#

#Run datacrow on synology download#

#Run datacrow on synology windows#

And I had never considered that, in the coming human - robot conflagration, robots might take over simply by expertly manipulating us into letting them win." "It seemed almost cruel to design a robot that could play on a young kid's emotions. The goal is to choreograph movements and expressions that will induce genuine emotions in the toy's owner."

#Run datacrow on synology software#

Their animation software is hooked up directly to sample robots: The animators create new ways to show that Cozmo is, say, frustrated, and play them back through its body to see how people interpret the robot's actions. "Should children form emotional bonds with robots?" "Anki has hired animators from Pixar and DreamWorks to design some 1,200 little movements for the robot to make. I think in 10 or 20 years this will be very common, especially if maintaining and feeding cats and dogs becomes prohibitively expense. I'm yet to determine if that's a good thing or not. Most of the web browsers of late are looking a lot more like Chrome. In the meantime, the Firefox version on my other two PCs will be staying at version 56, until I get that sorted. I've been tempted to swap to Opera again, but I'll wait and see just which addons get updated soon. Instead I removed the addon and continued to use Google Calendar instead. I almost left using Thunderbird at that point, but the alternatives I was perpared to entertain - Evolution, Claws, and The Bat, all had issues. Of course most - in time - will be updated but it's just plain annoying.Ī while back Thunderbird was updated and unlike their usual updates, it automatically added a mandatory calendar addon with the update. Therational behind this is that there's a "budding addon standard" which is all very good, but half the reason I've stayed with Firefox was the useful addons. Apparently everything's changed, and about half of my addons are either gone or no longer work. I never knew there were so many social media thingamies that you can post to before!įirefox has updated to version 57, also known as "Quantum". It also allows you to post a link to: Twitter, Google+, Pinterest, Email, LinkedIn, Reddit, Tumblr, WordPress, Google Gmail, WhatsApp, StumbleUpon, AIM, Amazon Wish List, AOL Mail, Balatarin, BibSonomy, Bitty Browser, Blinklist, Blogger Post, BlogMarks,, Box.net, BuddyMarks, Buffer, Care2 News, CiteULike, Delicious, Design Float, Diary.Ru, Diaspora, Digg, diHITT, Diigo, Douban, Draugiem, DZone, Evernote, Facebook Messenger, Fark, Flipboard, Folkd, Google Bookmarks, Google Classroom, Hacker News, Hatena, Houzz, Instapaper, Jamespot, Kakao, Kik, Kindle It, Known, Line, LiveJournal, Mail.Ru, Mendeley, Meneame, Mixi, MySpace, Netlog, Netvouz, NewsVine, NUjij, Odnoklassniki, Oknotizie,, Papaly, Pinboard, Plurk, Pocket, Polyvore, Print, PrintFriendly, Protopage Bookmarks, Pusha, Qzone, Rediff MyPage, Refind, Renren, Segnalo, Sina Weibo, SiteJot, Skype, Slashdot, StockTwits, Stumpedia, Svejo, Symbaloo Feeds, Telegram, Threema, Trello, Tuenti, Twiddla, TypePad Post, Viadeo, Viber, VK, Wanelo, WeChat, Wykop, XING, Yahoo Bookmarks, Yahoo Mail, Yahoo Messenger, Yoolink, YouMob, and Yummly. A lot simpler for me that way, as I can share serendipity stuff I find, without breaking my focus. Check to make sure the unifi container is running: docker container ls.I've only been posting to Facebook via a Firefox addon called AddtoAny, rather than going to Facebook itself. You'll see a little bit of output in the terminal and see that unifi is starting. Run the Docker container: docker-compose up -d. Press CTRL+O to save the file and then CTRL+X to exit back to the terminal.

You can find a list of TZ timezones here.

#Run datacrow on synology android#

FYI, I can make a connection perfectly between the UDM Pro and Win10 LTSC build 17763, iPhone and Android devices, but any OEM Windows10 build just won't play.

#Run datacrow on synology windows#

I have followed this and dozens of other tutorials for over two days and I have yet to make a L2TP VPN connection connect between a UDM Pro and Windows Pro Build 19043.

Then open File Station and create a folder under docker called. Then go to Synology Control Panel and choose Terminal & SNMP and tick the box to turn on ssh port 22, you can turn this off again later.

#Run datacrow on synology download#

Choose pducharme/ unifi-video- controller and download it. Once installed open Docker and click Registry and type " unifi-video " in search box.I started with just a couple of Ac Pros, running the UniFi software in a docker container on my Synology NAS, using the supplied POE injectors into. Three are the disc APs and two are in-wall APs. Here's the resulting setup and choices I made, as viewed in the UniFi Controller Software: I have the Gateway, the Switch with PoE, and five APs.

[kpopfanfictrash]

Raise the Barre (Epilogue)

Author: kpopfanfictrash

Creative Contributor: @baebae-goodnight​ for the last Raise the Barre moodboard TT she nailed it

Pairing: Jimin / Reader

Rating: 18+ (Smut)

Genre: Enemies to Lovers / Dance Academy!AU

Warnings: sexual content. Dry humping, fingering, hand job, oral (female), breast play, multiple orgasms, Jimin gets turned on by making someone else come, dirty talk. Jimin’s pants are tight.

Word Count: 13,409

Summary: You and Park Jimin have been rivals for as long as you’ve known one another; ever since he tripped you in the front row of your first dance convention. When you graduate from high school and enter Russet Ballet Academy, you tell yourself you’re leaving all past quarrels behind. The main problem with this though, is that your past seems determined not to leave you alone.

Worse still, the obstacles you face while out in the real world might prove more challenging than anything your enemy has to offer.  

“And… more pointe shoes,” you said, opening the box in your lap. “Wow. Thanks, mom and dad.”

Your dad laughed, pushing his glasses up the bridge of his nose. “You’re welcome, kiddo,” he said, nodding from the couch. “I know Russet gives you some already, but you can never have too many.”

“Out of curiosity.” You glanced at the tree. “Are there any boxes from you which aren’t related to dance?”

“Not related to dance…” Your mom pretended to think. “I don’t understand.”

“Mom!”

She laughed. “I’m kidding! Yes, there are other presents. You just happened to pick all the pointe shoe boxes first.”

Shaking your head, you placed the box aside. You smiled though, warmth in your chest at being home for the holidays. Classes at Russet had ended a week prior and it had been nice for a few days to simply relax. Already though, you found yourself itching to return to the city. It was strange to wake every morning and not head to ballet. It was even stranger to take classes at your old studio, trying to stay in shape before second semester began.

Playing with the string of your sweatpants, you couldn’t help glancing at your phone on the couch. It had been several days since you’d last seen Jimin in person. Oddly enough, the separation had been harder than you’d thought it would be.

Immediately after ending things with Finn, you and Jimin had tried to keep your distance. The pain of your separation had been too fresh to even consider dating someone else but, as time had gone on, you and Jimin had started becoming friends again.

It was hard not to be, with Jimin continuing as your dance partner and classmate. At the end of the semester, you’d had the opportunity to switch partners, but you and Jimin had chosen the status quo. It just made sense this way; you couldn’t think of anyone else you’d trust as much as him.

At first, things between you were strictly professional. You saw him only within the confines of the dance studio but eventually, his presence bled into your normal life. At first, the outings were small. Jimin went to a pregame you also attended. He saw you once at the coffee shop and, instead of running away, he stopped to chat. One time, he walked you back to your dorm.

When the month became December, you found your outlook improving. Most of November had been spent wallowing in your dorm, but the holiday season brought with it endless activities. The very first weekend of the month, a bunch of your Russet friends decided to go ice skating and you’d ended up tagging along.

The biggest problem had been you’d never ice skated before. Noelle had been patient, skating backwards in front of you and dragging you around the rink. Jimin had done the same thing for Hoseok, who was in a similar predicament to yours, and at some point, they swapped partners and left you skating with Jimin.

When he’d taken over for Noelle, your stomach had swooped. Hands touching, he’d led you gently around the edge and the world had seemed to still. It had been the first time you’d felt anything stir outside of your break-up. Whatever hurt and distance had sprung between you, it seemed something had survived between you and Jimin.

Nose red, Jimin had smiled as he skated backwards. “It’s easy,” he’d told you. “You just swivel, Y/N. In and out, in and out. Got it?”

“Um, no!” you’d yelped, nearly crashing to the ice when Jimin let go of your hands.

He’d laughed, catching you easily and skating like that for a while. Eventually, Jimin had helped you off the rink and gotten hot chocolate, which you insisted on buying. Payback, you said, for the impromptu skating lessons.

That day had been a turning point for you both. Throughout the month prior, you’d texted sporadically but after, you seemed to talk every day.

Jimin even offered to drive you home from Russet, given the fact that your hometowns were so close together. After much hemming and hawing, you’d eventually taken him up on the offer. The savings it gave your bleeding bank account were well-worth the potential discomfort.

This had led to both the best and worst twenty-four hours of your life.

Best, because Jimin was an excellent road trip companion. He let you choose the music, laughed at all your dumb jokes, and agreed to play the road trip games you suggested. You’d already made a firm rule not to compare Jimin to any past boyfriends but couldn’t help but note this as an improvement over anyone prior.

The sole reason the twenty-four hours were also painful was because you stopped at a hotel halfway through. It was either this or drive until 3:00 AM, so you chose the smarter option and rested for the night. You and Jimin bought separate bedrooms, but they’d ended up next to one another, so you’d been forced to spend a sleepless night imagining Jimin separated from you only by a thin sheet of plywood.

You had told yourself this was silly. At Russet, Jimin hadn’t been much further away, but something about the closeness in the hotel made you nervous. It was infinitely easier to forget about boundaries when you were separated by only a car console for hours at a time. Infinitely easier to forget the rules when you were outside of Russet, cocooned by his car and the snow.

You couldn’t help but think about the one kiss you’d shared.

That had only been a taste, barely a teaser, but the memory kept you awake for more nights than it probably should have. You couldn’t help but wonder what it’d be like to kiss Jimin again, under different circumstances.

Groaning, you’d covered your face with a pillow that night and tried your best to sleep. It hadn’t really worked, and you’d shown up at the car the next morning with dark shadows beneath your eyes.

Forcing yourself back to the present, you glanced away from your phone and focused on the tree – only to see its screen light up in your peripheral. Grabbing your phone, you realized Jimin had texted. Stifling a smile, you scrolled through the conversation until you found his last message.

Jimin: MERRY CHRISTMAS! [10:23 AM]

Jimin: 

Y/N: oh my god everything’s so... coordinated lol how long did that tree take to set up?  [10:24 AM]

Y/N: and merry Christmas 😊  [10:24 AM]

Jimin: not long at all. I just googled ‘christmas trees’ and that was the first one I found  [10:24 AM]

Y/N: ha ha hilarious  [10:25 AM]

Y/N: so, what are the Park family plans for the day?  [10:25 AM]

Jimin: the usual. Opening presents, going to my grandparents later for dinner. What about you?  [10:25 AM]

Y/N: same, minus the grandparents. We usually have a pretty low-key day  [10:26 AM]

Jimin: sounds nice  [10:26 AM]

Jimin: what’s your favorite present so far  [10:27 AM]

Y/N: 

Jimin: LOL  [10:30 AM]

Jimin: how many of them did you get? I’ve gotten two new dance bags and seven pairs of black leggings. It’s like our parents have forgotten we do anything else  [10:31 AM]

Y/N: no new dance belts? 😈  [10:32 AM]

Jimin: Y/N, I’m shocked  [10:35 AM]

Jimin: mind out of the gutter. Stop thinking about my junk  [10:35 AM]

Y/N: as your dance partner, I have a vested interest in your junk. What if it breaks free in the middle of practice?  [10:38 AM]

Jimin: the more delicate ladies would faint, I imagine  [10:41 AM]

Jimin: and probably Paulo  [10:41 AM]

Y/N: lmao  [10:43 AM]

Y/N: but seriously, I hope you get presents other than dance gear  [10:43 AM]

Jimin: back at you haha  [10:47 AM]

Y/N: I can’t help but notice you didn’t get me, your dance partner, a Christmas gift though  [10:50 AM]

Jimin: was the drive home not enough?  [10:50 AM]

Y/N: oh, shoot. You’re right! You did get me a Christmas gift  [10:51 AM]

Y/N: I’m the one who’s been remiss  [10:51 AM]

Jimin: don’t forget about my housewarming gift, too  [10:52 AM]

You smiled, sitting back on the sofa. Jimin was lucky enough to be moving off campus second semester. He, Hoseok and Alex Wong were moving into an apartment not far from Paulo’s. You and Noelle had decided to stay in Grace Hall, but you’d talked about moving someplace else next year.

Jimin was heading back early to move into his new place, so you’d need a different ride on your return trip to Russet. Still, you were looking forward to Jimin’s apartment hosting parties in the new year.

Y/N: don’t get greedy on me now, Park  [10:54 AM]

“Who’re you texting?”

Jerking your head up from the screen, you nearly dropped your phone. From the couch opposite, your mom gave you a knowing look.

“No one,” you said hastily, setting your phone aside.

“Oh, really?” She glanced with your dad. “No one wouldn’t happen to have dark hair, his own car and excellent table manners, would he?”

Immediately, you felt your face heat.

When Jimin drove you home before Christmas, your parents had insisted on feeding him before he continued to Harleigh Heights. This had led to the weirdest double date of your life – which was, in fact, not a date – including you, Jimin and your parents for dinner. Luckily, your parents had been great and Jimin hadn’t cared, but you’d been endlessly mortified for your first date with Jimin to have included your parents.

Not that you’d called it a date. When Jimin had left that night, you’d brushed it aside and he’d simply gone along with it. After Jimin had left, you’d gone to your room and wondered what the hell you were doing. It was clear you still liked Jimin and wanted to be more than just friends. Still, something continued to hold you back.

You weren’t sure when it was considered appropriate to move on. The line seemed fuzzy, so you hadn’t dared cross it and Jimin hadn’t asked. You got the feeling you needed to be the one to make the first move – which made sense. You’d been the one who asked for more time. You’d told Jimin you’d say when you were ready.

Any next steps would have to come from you.

It had been weird to go home and not see Finn. His house was only fifteen minutes away from yours – you’d driven past it on your way to the grocery store last week. Still, seeing his home hadn’t caused the pain you’d expected. It was strange not to see him, but more like you’d forgotten something you needed to do, as opposed to missing his actual presence.

If you were being honest, Finn had crossed your mind less and less lately. Possibly because you’d been falling out of love with him long before you’d broken up in November.

Still, it would be unfair to jump into something before you were ready. You’d already hurt Jimin once this past fall and were determined not to do so again. No matter how good things had been lately between you, you didn’t want to make the mistake of dating Jimin too soon.

Despite this, things had become flirtier between you as of late. Exhibit A: casual text conversations about Park Jimin’s junk.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” you said lightly.

Your dad laughed as he stood from the couch. “Alright, then,” he said, grabbing another gift. “How about you open this one next?”

Accepting the thin package he handed over, you frowned. The box wasn’t large and, shaking it slowly, you heard no sliding inside.

“I swear,” you said as you began to undo the bow. “If you wrapped your passport photo again, dad...”

Laughing, he settled back on the couch by your mom. “It’s not that, I promise.”

Grumbling, you opened the box and immediately froze. Staring at the paper inside, you slowly looked up. “Is this… is this what I think it is?”

“It’s a plane flight,” your mom said with a smile. “I know we’re supposed to drive you back on the third, but we thought you might want to celebrate New Year’s with your friends.”

“But…” Speechless, you returned to the box. “We always hang out together on New Year’s Eve.”

“I know,” said your dad. “But maybe it’s time to start some new traditions, kiddo.”

With that, he stood and took his mug to the kitchen. Sensing he wasn’t needed for this conversation any longer, he began washing dishes and to prepare breakfast. Once he was gone, your mom moved to your couch and settled beside you.

“I… this is too much,” you said, immediately backpedaling.

“It’s not.”

“Well…” Hesitant, you considered the possibilities. “I guess Ari will be in the city for New Year’s Eve. Maybe Noelle, too. She mentioned she might go back early.”

Gently, your mom smiled. “That’s great if you want to hang out with them, but… didn’t Jimin mention going back before New Year’s?”

Startled, you glanced up. You were surprised she’d remembered. Jimin had mentioned it briefly at dinner last week – he’d said he was moving off campus, which was why he’d needed to return home to pack.

“I – he might have,” you said cautiously.

“I see.” She paused. “I just… I don’t want you feeling like you need to hold yourself back, honey.”

“What do you mean by that?”

Your mom glanced meaningfully at your phone. “I’m glad you’re taking time to yourself,” she said slowly. “It’s important to know who you are and what you want. But also – don’t feel like you need to follow someone else’s timeline when it comes to moving on.”

“I know, but…” You trailed off. “We only broke up in November.”

She shrugged. “Only you know when you’re ready, honey. I just don’t want you to keep punishing yourself for something that’s over. You’re allowed to be happy, even if you’ve messed up in the past.”

Swallowing, you glanced again at the gift. The plane ticket was for the day before New Year’s Eve. Plucking it from the box, you sat back on the couch.

“But…” you said lowly. “Mom, it’s only been two months.”

“And are you still in love with Finn?”

“No.”

“And did you learn anything from what happened this fall?”

“I… Yes. A lot.”

“Good.” Reaching out, she squeezed your hand. “Learn the lessons you need to learn, and then move on. Self-flagellation isn’t productive, Y/N.”

You nodded, still uncertain about what she was saying. Her words made sense, but everything she was saying uncovered a dormant fear. You were scared. Scared of hurting someone else, scared of being hurt by someone else in return. Your last relationship had ended so badly, it was hard to convince yourself it might be worth it to try again.

Finally, you turned to face her on the couch. “Does it ever get any easier?” you asked. “This fear of being hurt… does it ever go away?”

Something sad passed over her face. “Yes and no,” she said, pulling back her hand. “You’ll never be as innocent as you were in your first love. There’s something special about loving someone and never having been hurt before. Once you’ve gone through that kind of pain, you aren’t the same after. But… it does get easier. And better. You’ll know more about how to support this time, instead of tearing down. How to make a love stronger, instead of hanging on.”

Something about this speech gave you comfort, and you slowly nodded. Again, what she said made sense but if there was one thing you’d learned from the fall, it was no matter how great the advice was, it was impossible to take if you weren’t ready to hear it.

You continued wondering if the risk would be worth it. No matter how much you felt for Jimin, you couldn’t help but remember how you’d felt breaking up with Finn. You hadn’t been in love with him at that point and it had still been so painful. It was terrifying to imagine loving someone again and having things end the same way.

Your mom was right, though. You couldn’t keep punishing yourself for something you couldn’t change. There were several ways you could move on from here. The main question to ask yourself was whether you wanted Jimin in the picture.

“Alright,” you said softly. “Thanks, mom.”

“Anytime.” Smiling, she stood and dusted off her pants. “I’m going to see if your dad needs help making breakfast. Don’t be too long, now!”

You nodded, watching her go, and then glanced at the ticket. Your mom’s words continued to run through your mind and after a moment, you picked up your phone.

Jimin had texted back.

Jimin: I would never!  [10:57 AM]

Y/N: hey, so  [11:01 AM]

Y/N: I did get one non-dance gift this year. A plane flight the day before New Year’s Eve  [11:02 AM]

Jimin: oh, wow! That was really nice of your parents  [11:03 AM]

Taking a deep breath, you closed your eyes. When you opened them, you found yourself newly determined.

Y/N: when do you get back again?  [11:03 AM]

His ellipses started, then stopped, then started again.

Jimin: December 28th  [11:04 AM] 

Y/N: what are your New Year’s Eve plans?  [11:04 AM]

For a moment, he didn’t respond, and you felt your heart catch. Maybe you’d misread things. Maybe Jimin had moved on and didn’t care about you anymore. Maybe he didn’t want you to tell him you were ready.

Jimin: I’m free 😊  [11:05 AM]

Jimin: want to be my New Year’s Eve date?  [11:05 AM]

Smiling ear to ear, you responded.

Y/N: yes. Please  [11:06 AM]

On the actual day of New Year’s Eve, you found yourself stressed beyond belief. Standing in front of the mirror of your dorm room, you adjusted your dress and worried over the hemline. Jimin had arranged to meet you around 7:00 PM and it was dangerously close to 6:55.

“Is the dress too short?” you asked, turning a little to face Noelle. “It is New Year’s Eve in the city. Should I wear pants, or something? Will I be cold?”

Noelle considered, then shrugged. “Just drink more. Problem solved!”

Snorting, you turned back to the mirror. Nervously, you smoothed down the front of your dress. You’d bought it at an after-Christmas sale and had fallen instantly in love. It had seemed perfect at the time, but now you were having second thoughts about the thin straps and tight bodice.

“Alright, so Y/N.” Noelle changed the subject. “Here’s the plan. Are you listening?”

Hiding a smile, you adjusted an earring. “Listening.”

“Good. Okay, so Ari and I will be at a party uptown. If the date goes badly, just say the word and we’ll call you a cab. You can be ringing in the new year with us within the hour.”

“Perfect,” you said. “It’s good to have a back-up.”

“It is.” Noelle paused. “Not that I think you’ll need this, of course.”

“Well, you never know.”

“Please.” She snorted. “What’s Jimin going to do? Be too charming? Too respectful of boundaries? Wear pants that show off his ass a little too much?”

“Noelle!”

She laughed, coming to a stop alongside you. Noelle wore a sparkly dress which made her skin glow, although this may have been the glitter dusted over her shoulders. Looking at herself in the mirror, she fluffed her hair.

“Seriously,” she said, meeting your gaze. “You’re going to be fine.”

“I know, I know.” Shaking out your arms, you forced yourself to exhale. “I’m just nervous, that’s all. It’s been a long time since I went on a first date.”

Noelle considered. “That’s true. Allow me to give you some dating tips, then.”

Laughing, you turned around and sat on the futon. “By all means.”

“Alright – number one.” Noelle removed lipstick from her purse. “Don’t order anything with garlic. I know, that sucks because garlic is everything, but no one wants to make out while they have garlic breath. Rule number two!”

“Whoa, whoa,” you said. “Who said anything about making out?”

Noelle gave you a pointed look. “Just in case it should happen…”

Shaking your head, you sunk back on the futon, but you knew she was right. Tonight was New Year’s Eve, after all. Ideally, you’d like to do more than kiss Jimin, but this seemed like too much of a jinx to say out loud.

Mentally, you agreed to the ‘no garlic’ rule.

“What else?” you prompted.

“Let’s see.” Noelle began to reapply her lipstick. “Relax.”

“What?”

Glancing at you in the mirror, she raised both brows. “I can see your shoulders tensing from here, babe. Just relax, okay? Tonight will be fine. You’re just hanging out with Jimin. You’ve done that before.”

“I know,” you groaned, lowering your face to your hands. “For some reason though, I’m very aware of the ‘date’ aspect of tonight. I don’t know why.”

When you looked up, Noelle gave you a sympathetic look, but before she could say more there came a knock at the door. Half-standing, you moved to open it, but Noelle shooed you back.

“Rule number three,” she said as she crossed the room. “Never answer the door for your own date.”

“What?” you laughed, although you sat back down on the futon.

Grabbing the handle, Noelle pulled open the door. Blocking you from view, she leaned her shoulder against the frame.

“Password?”

“What?” came Jimin’s voice, sounding confused.

“That’s correct!” Noelle stepped aside.

As you stood, you saw Jimin for the first time. He wore a pea coat over his outfit, his dark hair pushed back from his face in a devastating manner. When he saw you, Jimin froze, and you saw his eyes widen.

Silently, you congratulated yourself on having picked the right outfit. His gaze slowly trailed your body, lingering in places which made your cheeks heat. When he returned to your face, he slowly exhaled.

“Hey,” he said. “You… you look beautiful.”

Smiling back, you found yourself at a loss for words. “So do you.”

Jimin grinned and you stood there, smiling at each other like idiots until Noelle cleared her throat.

“Well,” she said, side-stepping Jimin to grab her coat. “I’m going to head over to Ari’s. You kids be safe, okay?”

“We will,” you laughed.

Noelle left in a flurry of kisses and glitter, waving goodbye as she stepped out the door. Jimin turned to face you once she was gone, offering a smile.

“Are you ready to go?” he asked. “I brought you these.”

From behind his back, he pulled out pink peonies, which made you gasp. They were your favorites, a little limp from the cold, but still beautiful. Taking them gently from him, you turned them over in your hands.

“They’re wonderful,” you said happily. “Thank you.”

Jimin smiled. “I’m glad you like them.”

Glancing around, you found a clean glass near the sink and filled this with water. Arranging the peonies on your desk, you took a step back and cocked your head. You’d always thought the idea of flowers on dates was kind of cheesy, but now that you’d experienced it in person, it seemed unimaginably sweet.

“There,” you said, turning back. “All set.”

Jimin smiled at this, then glanced at your bare arms. “You’re going to be cold without a coat,” he said. “That’d be a bad way to start off the new year.”

“Oh – duh,” you said, hurrying towards your wardrobe.

Pulling a coat out, you slipped this over your dress and buttoned the front. As you left the room, you turned off the lights and shut the door behind you. Jimin walked with you down the hall, continually glancing your way from the corner of his eyes.

You felt oddly shy, despite this being Jimin beside you. Jimin, who you’d known since you were teenagers. Jimin, who’d been both the utter bane of your existence, along with the single person you trusted most in the world. He’d tossed you up in the air and caught you no question and somehow, this felt like the most daring thing you’d ever done.

It was strange to walk beside him, out on a date whose future held a large question mark. Excitement and uncertainty warred in your stomach, which only seemed to exacerbate the situation. You felt as though you stood on the edge of a precipice, staring into a ravine with no discernable bottom.

As you left the building, snowflakes swirled in the sky up above and you looked up in surprise.

“Oh,” you exhaled, breath frosting before you. “I didn’t realize it was snowing!”

“Yeah.” Jimin grinned, tilting back his head. “Snow is my favorite weather, actually.”

“The wet and the cold does it that much for you, huh, Park?”

“That, and the romance of it all.”

Your smile softened a little as you fell into step alongside him. The snow continued to drift as you walked, melting as soon as it touched the pavement.

“So, where are we going?” you wondered, glancing at him. “You said you’d tell me once you picked me up and I’ve got news for you, Jimin. I’m here. I’ve been picked up.”

“Right, sure.” He shoved both hands in his pockets. “I made a reservation at this restaurant around the corner. The food’s really good so I hope you’ll like it.”

“I’m sure I will.”

“Huh.” Jimin paused. “That was easy.”

You shrugged. “I’m just excited for tonight. That’s all.”

His gaze softened a little when he glanced at you. “Me, too.”

Smiling, you continued to walk alongside him. New Year’s Eve in the city was a grand affair. The sidewalks were still lit with holiday lights, people hurrying past in brightly colored coats. Privately, you were glad Jimin had made a reservation at a restaurant instead of trying to brave a club or a bar. You’d heard horror stories from people who paid extravagantly to get into a club, only to spend the entire night waiting in line at the bar.

Turning the corner, you saw the restaurant Jimin had chosen and brightened. It was one you’d walked past several times and always wanted to try but had never found time.

Jimin held open the door as you entered. The inside still had their holiday decorations up, garland strung across every surface with tiny, white fairy lights hung up above. Everyone who was dining wore formal attire, laughing and chatting in the glow of the fireplace. The food smelled amazing and immediately, your mouth watered.

Joining the line at the hostess stand, you waited for the couple before you to leave and then Jimin stepped up.

“Park,” he told her. “Party of two.”

The hostess smiled, nodding as she flipped through her notebook. “One moment, please.” The longer she looked though, the more her face fell. After a moment, she glanced up. “Park, you said?”

“Yes.” Jimin nodded. “P-a-r-k.”

The woman nodded, flipping through her notebook again as though the name might magically appear.

“I’m so sorry,” she said, glancing up again. “There seems to be some kind of mistake. I don’t have you listed as a reservation.”

Jimin’s expression faltered. “Can you look again?” he asked, leaning forward.

The hostess nodded, running her finger down the numbered rows. “I can’t find you anywhere. Do you remember who you spoke with on the phone?”

“Rebecca.”

“Oh.” Her face immediately fell. “Rebecca left the restaurant last week. It seems a few reservations slipped through in the transition. Is there… well, before I do that – let me see what I can do,” she blurted out, turning around to rush into the restaurant.

Jimin watched her disappear and you saw his expression tighten.

Silence fell between you as you adjusted your coat. Jimin looked stressed and you weren’t sure what you should do about it. Frantically, you tried to remember times he’d been stressed during class, but before you could do or say anything, the hostess returned.

“I’m so sorry,” she said, looking harried. “The restaurant is completely booked up. I was trying to see if we could squeeze you in, but there’s just no room. I’m so sorry. Normally, only one person does the reservations, but we’ve been so busy lately...”

“It’s fine,” you said, jumping in. The poor woman looked like she was about to burst into tears. “Please, don’t worry about it. We’ll figure something out.”

Jimin glanced at you, surprised, and then nodded. “Yeah,” he agreed, returning to the hostess. “Thank you so much for your help – I appreciate you trying. We actually have a back-up reservation somewhere else, so don’t worry. We’ll come back another time!”

“Oh, really?” Her entire face brightened. “That’s so good to hear. New Year’s Eve, and all. Thank you for being understanding!”

“Yes, busy night,” Jimin said with a smile. “Take care of yourself!”

The woman nodded, seeming grateful when you stepped out of line. Jimin followed your footsteps, heading towards the door and then came to a stop. Slowly, he exhaled.

“So,” you said, turning to face him. “Where are these back-up reservations?”

Jimin winced and met your gaze. “I have none,” he admitted. “She just looked so sad. I wanted to put her out of her misery.”

“Wait.” Piecing this together, you paused. “Are you serious?”

“Yeah,” he said miserably. “I only made reservations here and that was super lucky, considering most places in the city have been booked for weeks. I don’t have any back-up plans.”

For a moment, you could only stare. “So, you said all that just so that poor hostess wouldn’t worry about a mistake her restaurant made?”

“I – well, yeah.”

You stared another moment, then started to laugh. It started out small but grew until eventually, you were wiping tears of mirth from your eyes.

Jimin watched you laugh, seeming thoroughly confused. “What’s so funny?”

“It’s just…” Shaking your head, you paused to catch your breath. “You’re unreal. Most people would be super stressed about New Year’s Eve plans falling through, but here you are lying to make a hostess’ night better.”

He blinked, still uncertain. “I’m… sorry about that.”

“Don’t apologize!” you insisted as you straightened. “It’s… wonderful,” you said to him shyly. “I like that about you.”

Slowly, his expression changed. “I really don’t have other plans, though,” he admitted. “I wasn’t lying about that. And I am stressed about my reservation falling through. I wanted this night to be perfect.”

The sweetness of this made your heart start to melt and newly determined, you nodded.

“We can fix this,” you said. “We’ll just go somewhere else.”

“Like where?”

“Like...” You paused. “We could hang out at my dorm. Or at your apartment! One of our kitchens has to be free, right? We could make dinner and hang out, watch the ball drop.”

“We could go to my place,” said Jimin slowly. “Hoseok and Alex are at a New Year’s Eve party uptown. We’d have the kitchen to ourselves.”

“Perfect,” you said. “Let’s go there.”

“I should warn you, though – I can only really cook one thing.”

“Spaghetti-o’s?”

“Okay, two things.”

You laughed. “So, what’s the first thing?”

“A pasta dish they taught us in Senior Foods class. But it’s nothing fancy.”

“Perfect.” You shrugged. “That will go nicely with my contribution of store-bought bread and olive oil.”

Jimin started to grin. “Alright, then, it’s settled. Let’s go to my place.”

You smiled when he opened the door, following him onto the sidewalk. Jimin’s new apartment was a few blocks away, but time passed quickly with him beside you. Oddly enough, the mishap at the restaurant seemed to have cleared some of the lingering awkwardness.

Noelle had been right, you realized – you had nothing to worry about while you were with Jimin.

He talked while you walked, detailing the ongoing fight at his apartment about some posters Hoseok wanted to hang. This segued into the general ridiculousness of New Year’s Eve – a topic you wholeheartedly agreed with.

“It’s stressful,” Jimin complained as you walked. “Everyone’s always asking about your resolution, you need to find someone to kiss at midnight, and there’s that super awkward moment with the countdown and your date…”

You laughed, grabbing a basket as you entered the grocery store. Jimin had suggested you stop by, since he didn’t have much food at his place.

“Doesn’t the countdown make it easier?” you joked. “It really dumbs the whole process down. Fool-proof.”

“Well, sure,” Jimin said. “But then you end up staring awkwardly at someone for ten seconds while you slowly lean forward and wonder when you should blink.”

Laughing, you reached on tiptoe for a loaf of bread. “Alright, you got me there,” you admitted. “I’ve never had a proper New Year’s Eve, anyways. I’ve always been dating someone and then, it’s just kind of assumed you’ll kiss. None of the magic you see in the movies.”

Jimin nodded. “Most of that’s just movie magic, though. You aren’t missing much – trust me.”

“I don’t know,” you said as you turned the next corner. “The anticipation sounds kind of nice. Wondering if someone will kiss you back, if they’re thinking about you the same way you are…”

Jimin made a humming noise, low in his throat.

Coming to a stop, he reached overhead to grab some pasta. Putting this in your basket, Jimin casually brushed your arm as you met his faze. Fighting back a shiver, you tried to remember what you’d been saying.

Giving a smile, Jimin continued forward and kept shopping. You stared after him a moment before your gaze dropped to his ass. Inhaling quickly, you remembered Noelle’s comment about Jimin’s tight pants. She hadn’t been wrong about that. Hurrying along, you quickly caught up.

Grabbing another jar, Jimin placed this in the basket. When he caught your eye again, he grinned, his hair falling forward. The sight made your heart flip-flop in your chest.

As you entered the check-out line, Jimin came to a stop alongside you. His gaze traveled the store, eyes widening when he glanced over your shoulder.

“What’s that?” Jimin gasped.

Startled, you turned. “What’s – hey!” you blurted when he took your basket.

Grinning widely, Jimin placed the food before the cashier. “Too slow.”

“Jimin, come on,” you said, slightly flustered. “I can pay. I –”

“You can pay next time, if you want.”

This shut you up and you stared at him a moment before you stepped forward.

“There’s… going to be a next time?” you said.

Jimin glanced in your direction. “If you want there to be.”

“I do,” you said softly, and he smiled.

Taking another step forward, he pulled out his wallet to pay and you let him – this time, anyways. Outside, it seemed to have grown colder since your arrival and you shivered as you exited the shop. Noticing this, Jimin immediately undid his scarf from around his neck.

“Here,” he said, handing it over. “I don’t need this.”

“But then you’ll be cold,” you pointed out, accepting it anyways.

“I’ll jog in place to keep warm.”

“… With me walking beside you?”

“Yep.”

You laughed, even more so when Jimin began to demonstrate. He jogged for a few steps, then slowed to a walk.

“Changed my mind,” he said with a wince. “I’d rather be cold.”

You laughed, cheeks starting to hurt from both this and the wind. Jimin’s apartment wasn’t far, although it did turn out to be a third-floor walk-up. This left you slightly winded when you arrived at his place, to which Jimin shrugged and said the rent had been cheap.

Opening his front door, he led the way into – boxes. Tons of them, although most of the furniture had been set up around them. Jimin fumbled for a light, flicking this on and setting down the groceries.

“Most of the boxes are Alex’s,” he sighed, looking around. “Hoseok and I have a secret deal we’re going to unpack him ourselves if he doesn’t do it by Monday.”

“That doesn’t sound like much of a detriment to Alex.”

“I never said what we planned on doing with his things once we unpacked.”

You laughed, undoing your coat to set aside. Glancing around, you saw Jimin was right. Most of the boxes were scrawled in the same handwriting. Beyond them, you saw the living room had been mostly set up with a couch and TV.

To your right lay the kitchen, in which Jimin was already unloading the groceries. Beyond him was a hallway, through which you assumed were their bedrooms and bathrooms. Wandering back to Jimin, you realized he was staring.

“What?” you said, coming to a stop. “Did I spill something on my dress in the store?”

“No,” Jimin murmured, shaking his head. “I just… I know I said this before, but you really do look incredible.”

“Oh.”

Looking at him, you felt your face growing hot. Jimin smiled and ducked his head, resumed pulling things out of the bag. Stepping from your shoes to place in the hall, you returned to the kitchen and pulled out a stool.

Sitting down, you propped your chin in your hand. “Aren’t you going to take off your coat?”

Glancing down, Jimin blinked. “Oh,” he laughed, undoing the buttons. “I forgot I was wearing it.”

You smiled, but this quickly disappeared when you saw what he was wearing. Jimin had worn a dark blazer and trousers, paired with a paisley shirt and black boots. He looked ridiculously good and again, Noelle’s comment about his ass came to mind.

She’d been correct – his pants were well-shaped and well-formed.

After removing both coat and shoes, Jimin returned to the kitchen and pushed a hand through his hair. You watched him get to work, leaning forward a bit when he began to dice vegetables. Immediately, your brows raised. It seemed Jimin had undersold his skills in the kitchen.

When you said as much, he laughed.

“Maybe a little,” Jimin said. As he pushed veggies from the cutting board, the pan began to sizzle. “It’s all part of my master plan. Set expectations low, then over-deliver.”

“It’s working,” you said with a laugh. “You seem pretty damn impressive to me.”

Jimin’s cheeks reddened. “You’re just saying that.”

“Why would I lie?”

“I seem to remember some shocking texts about my junk and dancer’s belts. You could just be after my body, Y/N.”

“I – that’s not!”

He looked up and grinned. “Kidding.”

Flustered, you blurted, “That wasn’t nice!”

Jimin laughed. “I’m sorry.”

You huffed, waiting a minute before you continued. “You do look really good right now, though,” you said softly.

He looked up, eyes wide. As much as Jimin said he enjoyed being liked, it seemed to throw him for a loop whenever you said you liked him. It made you pause, mulling over this for a minute.

“You seem surprised,” you said quietly. “Whenever I say things like that, you always look surprised.”

“Well…” Jimin hesitated. “I just think… there’s been a lot of times where I never thought this would happen. It feels kind of unreal have you here. In my kitchen. On a date.”

“Times after November?”

Jimin paused.

Your brow furrowed. “Before then?”

Opening the pasta, Jimin added this to the pot. He stared into the steam, slowly exhaling before he looked up.

“Let’s just say I’ve wanted this for a while,” he admitted.

“What? But you hated me before Russet.”

“I…” Jimin trailed off. “Kind of. It’s complicated.”

When he failed to elaborate and returned to his cooking, your eyebrows shot up.

“Uh, no,” you laughed. “You can’t just say that and not explain what you mean. What are you talking about?”

Jimin winced as he set down his spoon. “Okay,” he said, gripping the counter. “I guess what I’m saying is I never really hated you. Not truly.”

“You didn’t.”

“No.” He spoke flatly.

“But…” Confused, you searched his face. “You’ve hated me ever since we met, Jimin. That first weekend at NUVO dance competition. We were both called out to demonstrate and you tripped me!”

“Well, maybe that’s not exactly what happened.”

“What are you talking about?”

Jimin released a low breath. “Okay, so here’s the thing. That weekend happened a little differently from my perspective.”

“How so?”

“We were both called out to demonstrate,” he said, repeating your words. “But I hadn’t seen you before then. When we both reached center and I turned and saw you – I froze. I couldn’t remember how to act. Every thought I’d ever had just… flew out of my head.”

You stared at him, speechless.

“I didn’t know what to do,” Jimin continued softly. “I’d never felt like that before. When you started to dance, it only got worse. I’d never seen someone dance like you did. That’s why I entered the combination late. That’s why I was in the wrong spot at the wrong time and that’s why I accidentally tripped you. I was… well, I was distracted.”

“By me,” you whispered. “You were distracted by… me?”

“Yeah.”

“So,” you said, breath catching. “This entire time, you haven’t really hated me?”

“Ah, I don’t know about that.” Jimin rubbed the back of his neck. “You could be really infuriating,” he said with a laugh. “There were times when you genuinely pissed me off. I meant it when I said I wanted to win against you. But also… I don’t know. I never really forgot the first time I saw you.”

“Oh,” you whispered, unsure what you were feeling.

It made your head spin to hear this different version of events. Jimin hadn’t hated you – at least, not in the same way you had. He hadn’t been the one to make the first move after all. You had when you’d decided not to listen to his apology.

“Oh my god,” you groaned, burying your face in your hands.

“Hey – what’s wrong?”

Dropping his spoon to the counter, Jimin came around and stood beside you. Keeping your head down, you refused to look up until Jimin touched your arm.

“I just,” you exhaled, turning to face him. “It was my fault. This entire time, I thought you hated me and that’s why I hated you. But instead, I just decided to hate you – and for what?”

Jimin’s upper lip twitched. “I wasn’t entirely blameless, you know. I was such a little shit at that age. I wouldn’t have believed me, either.”

“You tried to apologize, though!”

“Hey.” Gently, he gripped your elbows. “If it makes you feel any better, I did trip people just to get to the front. I was an ass. It’s why that Jungkook guy hates me. I started dancing later in life, so I was really hung up on proving myself.”

“Yeah, but it wasn’t true,” you told him. “You didn’t trip me on purpose, and if I’d only been less stubborn –”

“Whoa, hey.” Jimin smiled. “You weren’t the only stubborn one. Maybe it started off as a misunderstanding, but I didn’t really fight it. You were my competition as much as I was yours.”

“I guess,” you said quietly. “I just… I feel like I wasted so much time hating you. Maybe we could’ve even been friends.”

His gaze sparked. “Just friends?” he asked with a quirk of his brow.

“Jimin,” you groaned, but started to smile.

“Listen.” Expression softening, Jimin moved closer. “Even if I had decided to explain all this in high school, would you have believed me?”

“Probably not.”

“Exactly. I was a dick back then.” He nodded. “Remember that one time I lied and told you the awards ceremony had been pushed back an hour?”

Sitting up straighter, you glared. “Oh, I remember. I showed up after they’d already taken the photo for Top Junior solos.”

Jimin grinned. “Or the time I put an out of order sign on the women's restroom after your solo at BRAVO, so you had to run all the way across the auditorium?”

“That was you!” you blurted out, wide-eyed. “No one would believe me when I said it was! Every girl was so pissed off at you that weekend.”

“Which is exactly why I could never admit it was me!”

In disbelief, you shook your head. “You did all of that just to get back at me?”

Jimin’s smile disappeared. “Hey, you weren’t innocent either,” he argued. “Remember the time you spilled an entire water bottle next to my bag so that when I sat down, my ass got all wet?”

Devious, you smiled. “Honestly, there was kind of an ulterior motive there. As much as I hated you, your ass looks great in damp sweats.”

Jimin’s jaw dropped a little.

Managing to shut this, he took a casual step forward. “Is that what you thought?” he murmured, barely able to conceal the thickness in his voice.

“I… may have noticed a few things about you.”

When he placed a hand next to you on the counter, your breath hitched in response. Jimin repeated this with his other hand, bringing his body a step closer to yours.

Hesitant, his gaze roamed your face. “What else did you notice?”

“I…” you exhaled and glanced at his lips.

The air between you could have been cut with a knife, heated for a different reason than the stove beside you. Which – eyes widening, you glanced over.

“Shit!” you blurted. “Jimin, the pasta!”

Startled, he looked in the same direction as you and realized the water was boiling. Rushing away, Jimin entered the kitchen and turned down the burner. Now that you were separated by a solid counter, you felt somewhat dazed when you glanced up and saw him.

Meeting your gaze, Jimin came to a stop. “Anyways,” he said softly. “Now, you know. I didn’t trip you on purpose. I never really hated you. And I’m incredibly glad you’re here tonight.”

Watching him speak, something warm bloomed in your chest.

“Me, too,” you whispered.

Smiling, Jimin returned to the pasta and you settled back on the stool. Delicious scents soon filled the kitchen and you realized how truly hungry you were. You hadn’t eaten much at lunch in preparation and by now, you were famished.

It wasn’t long before Jimin placed pasta onto plates, adding the bread you’d cut up on the side. He brought these to his table, disappearing briefly to return with two candles.

“Oo,” you said as you took a seat. “Fancy.”

Jimin lit the one closest to you with a flourish. “We aim to please, here at Park Jimin’s Fine Eating and Dining.”

“Is that the name of your restaurant?”

“It is.”

“And you’re set on that decision?”

“I decided on a whim, but I have no regrets,” Jimin said, taking a seat across from you. “Now, eat before you piss off the chef and he takes back your food.”

Laughing, you dug into the pasta before you. It was delicious and, after the very first bite, you sighed in appreciation. Apparently, Jimin had truly set the bar low. Conversation began to flow, any lingering tension disappeared after talk of your past.

It was the oddest thing. You’d heard stories from friends about other first dates. They worried about how to behave, what to wear, or what to say to their date – but none of these worries seemed to exist for you in the moment. You’d been so concerned before the night began, but now that you were here, all these worries seemed to fly out the window.

You’d thought you’d spend the entire night comparing. Comparing Jimin to your last relationship, comparing Jimin as a date to Jimin as a friend, but instead, it felt like natural progression. It wasn’t a matter of comparing Jimin to anyone else, but rather simply enjoying where the night led.

After dinner, you insisted on helping clean because Jimin had cooked and bought the food. Donning rubber gloves over your dress, you stood at the sink and began to wash dishes. Jimin laughed as he joined, pulling on gloves to dry the dishes beside you. Once this was done, he suggested watching a movie before the ball dropped.

Collapsing onto the sofa, you adjusted your dress and scanned the room. The posters Jimin had bemoaned were now hung over the TV – you wondered if Hoseok had managed to somehow sneak them past his roommates. Small touches here and there made you think of Jimin.

A game he’d mentioned was out on the coffee table and a blanket which smelled like him was draped over a chair. Pulling this towards you, you wrapped it around yourself as Jimin left the kitchen.

Holding two glasses of wine, he paused when he saw you.

“What?” you said, glancing down.

“Nothing.” Jimin cleared his throat. “Are you cold?”

“A little,” you admitted, tugged his blanket closer.

“Shoot.” Jimin frowned. “The heat’s been weird since we moved in. I’m not sure how to fix – oh!” Setting the glasses down, he rushed towards the hall. “Do you want a sweatshirt?” he called.

“Yes, please!”

Jimin reappeared moments later, a navy sweatshirt in hand. Handing this over, he settled beside you on the sofa. He’d ditched his blazer and now, Jimin was dressed in only the paisley shirt and slacks.

Pulling his sweatshirt overhead, you somehow managed to get stuck right away. It was hard not to, with your hair and the dress, trying not to flash him while you kept your legs crossed.

After a moment of watching your undignified struggling, Jimin cleared his throat.

“Need help?”

“Yes, please,” you said weakly.

Jimin laughed, helping you free and once the hoodie was settled, you sighed and leaned back. Glancing sideways at Jimin, you found him already looking at you.

“What do you want to watch?” you asked.

Jimin blinked, then glanced at the TV. “Hm,” he mused, grabbing the remote. “We could watch the ball drop and enjoy the fact that we’re sitting inside, not standing in the freezing cold without any bathrooms.”

“I know!” you said with a shudder. “Out of all the stupid traditions, that’s one I’ll never understand.”

“How do so many people have it on their bucket list?”

“Right? That, and the Macy’s Thanksgiving Day Parade. Zero out of ten. It’s cold, there’s wind and again, there’s the question of bathrooms.”

Jimin laughed as he scrolled through the channels. “Alright, so no to the ball drop. Want to watch a movie?”

“Sure.”

“What movie?”

“Why’re you making me pick?” you whined, sinking deeper into his cushions. “That’s such a large amount of pressure.”

“Exactly, which is why I don’t want to do it.”

You laughed and after some back and forth, decided to watch About Time. This was a movie about obstacles and falling in love, which seemed more than fitting because of the new year. At first, you and Jimin were watching diligently but eventually, he asked a question and conversation slowly drifted from the movie.

At some point, Jimin lowered the volume to focus solely on you. You curled deeper into the couch beside him, your thighs somehow touching and shoulders inches apart. Jimin’s head leaned against the cushion and he continued to smile in a way which made your heart flip.

“Here’s a question,” you murmured, no longer pretending to watch the movie.

His eyes gleamed in the darkness. “What?”

“Why’d you tell Sabrina you only wanted to be friends?”

Briefly, his eyes widened. “How did… you know about that?”

“She told me.”

“Hm.” Jimin gave you a dubious look but moved past it. Sabrina had begun hanging out with your friends as of late. “But alright, I’ll answer. If I do though, you need to answer one of my questions. Deal?”

“Deal.”

“So, I was single when I came to Russet.” Jimin paused. “It was the first time in a long time, and I may have hooked up with a couple of people.”

“Hm,” you said tightly.

His eyes danced with amusement. “Jealous?”

“Answer the question.”

He laughed. “Anyways, I only hooked up with Sabrina the one time. Afterwards…” Jimin sighed. “I felt kind of weird about her asking me to switch partners. Then I overheard what she said about Ari at weigh-ins and just didn’t feel like anything more... Plus, there was the other reason.”

“And what was the other reason?”

“I was starting to like you,” he said, a bit softer. “The day you said you wanted to be friends was a giant weight from my chest. And the more relaxed you were around me, the more… I don’t know. The more I liked you, I guess. My mom has always called me her hopeless romantic,” Jimin said with a smile. “I don’t know about that, but I can be single-minded when I like someone. That was part of the reason I told Sabrina we shouldn’t hook up anymore.”

“Oh,” you whispered.

His smile turned lopsided. “Does that answer your question?”

“Yeah. I guess it does.”

“My turn, then.” Smile disappearing, his gaze darkened. “Why did you really call me that night at the club?”

“Oh. That. Well, I –”

“And don’t say it was because I had a car,” Jimin interrupted. “There were a lot of people you could’ve called to help. You didn’t, though. You called me. Why?”

You hesitated before you realized there was only one answer. “I wanted to see you,” you said honestly. “I was scared, I was alone and… you were the person I wanted to see.”

Jimin’s gaze had become nearly black, the air between you thick with something unsaid. You were suddenly conscious of all each part of your body pressed to his. When Jimin shifted on the couch, you moved somehow closer.

He hesitated, then glanced at your mouth. “I don’t…” Jimin licked his lips, sounding hoarse. “I don’t want to do anything you’re not ready for.”

“You won’t,” you told him.

Something uncertain passed over his face. “Maybe we should take things slow.”

“Or,” you said slowly. “I could tell you things I like about you, instead.”

“And what would be the point of that?”

Your gaze shifted to his. “You’ve told me a lot tonight about how much you like me,” you said softly. “About how long you’ve liked me. I think it’s time I returned the favor.”

Something in his gaze cracked and he nodded. The TV in the background was quiet, only the noise from the street and the whoosh of the heater breaking the silence.

“First,” you said, glancing down at his lap. “You have really nice hands.”

Jimin’s lips twitched. “My hands? I’ve always thought they were small.”

“Wrong. They’re the perfect size. Never have they dropped me.”

“Mm, that’s a good point.”

“And your smile,” you said.

“What about it?”

“I like your smile,” you told him. “It makes me smile.”

His eyes crinkled in demonstration. “Oh, yeah?”

“And your ears.”

Jimin laughed. “My ears?”

Reaching out, you delicately traced over an edge. “I’ve spent a long time looking at your profile, Park. I know what I’m talking about here.”

As your fingers moved lower, feather-light down his jaw, Jimin’s smile disappeared.

“I like your jaw, too,” you told him.

In the darkness, his gaze glinted, and you felt his jaw tense.

“And your lips,” you added, gaze lowering. “I like those a lot.”

“Y/N…” Jimin’s eyes fluttered shut.

“Yeah?”

He slowly exhaled. “I just don’t want you to regret this.”

“Jimin.”

He opened his eyes.

Your expression was serious. “I told you I wouldn’t jump into something before I was ready,” you said, lifting your other hand. “But I’m not in love with Finn anymore. It doesn’t hurt when I think about what happened last semester. I like you, Jimin. I want you. I don’t want to keep pushing you away. I get if you’re unsure about this, though. If you’re unsure about me.”

Jimin’s gaze roamed your face. “Unsure?”

“I know I hurt you before. I shouldn’t have kissed you and ran away. But I promise this isn’t like that. I’m not running away. I’m the furthest thing from running and I –”

Cutting you off, Jimin pressed his lips to yours.

You shuddered a little, leaning into his kiss before he pulled back. Jimin exhaled, barely a breath before he kissed you again.

Noses brushing, lips lingering, the kiss slowly deepened. Your hands curled into his hair, pulling him forward to bask in his warmth. It was dizzying, how different this felt than last time. Last time you’d been heartbroken, desperately yearning each time your lips had touched.

Now, Jimin felt like air, like sunshine as you drowned in his presence. Hand grasping your waist, Jimin moved you closer so your chest nestled to his. Lifting his fingers, his touch skimmed your jaw, your hairline before he circled the nape of your neck.

Drawing away, he bit down on your lip. With a low sort of moan, Jimin sought your lips again. When his mouth opened yours, his tongue swept forward and you nearly combusted.

This was only to tease, though. Only to taste before he pulled away, pressing a chaste kiss to your lips. Thumb skimming your jawline, Jimin tilted your head back to brush a kiss to your throat. Moving higher, he worshiped a slow path up the column of your neck. At your ear, he nipped gently before he returned.

Now, his kisses began to deepen. Mouths opening, your tongues brushed only briefly before he chose to withdraw. You were glad you were kissing on the couch, because suddenly your own legs felt weak underneath you.

Hand re-gripping his waist, Jimin pulled you against him. Eager, your hands found his neck and the blanket dropped to the floor. It wasn’t enough, though – you needed more, wanted to feel him fully beneath you. Rising on your knees, you swung a leg over his lap and settled on top.

Jimin hissed, his head hitting the back of his couch. Your dress had ridden up in the process, exposing your thighs – his thumbs skimmed the surface before he looked up.

“Shit,” Jimin croaked.

Smiling, you bent to kiss him again. Jimin arched upwards, each part of your body electric where you touched. He shifted his hips, granting friction and heat which made you short-circuit. Pressing yourself closer, your thighs sild backwards until they nestled around his waist.

Jimin’s hand found your spine, pulling you closer as his hips pushed upwards. You groaned when you felt him shift underneath you. The kisses grew steadily hotter, this ache in your core increasing with every touch.

“Can I…” Pulling away, Jimin glanced lower. “Can I take off the sweatshirt?”

“Yeah,” you said, a bit dazed.

Jimin didn’t waste time, helping you pull this swiftly overhead. It was tossed on the ground and when your dress was revealed, he inhaled.

Slipping his hands up your bodice, Jimin met your gaze. “I’ve wanted to do this for so long,” he confessed, his voice hoarse.

“Do what?”

Your breath hitched when his hands skimmed your breasts, lingering in all your softest places.

“Touch you,” Jimin said. “It was torture to see you, to look at you and not be able to do this. Not how I wanted, anyways. I’d tell myself not to think about it, but…”

“Jimin.”

He paused and looked up. “Yes?”

“Touch me. Please.”

Without hesitation, Jimin slid his hands lower. Cupping your ass, he pulled you against him and allowed his other hand to drift up your spine. You shivered, closing your eyes as your head tilted back.

His hands slid up your front, over your breasts and under the straps of your dress. Jimin’s thumbs drifted lower, brushing your nipples through the fabric of your bodice. Opening your eyes, you looked down at him and saw his gaze darken.

Reaching higher, Jimin cupped the back of your neck and returned your lips to his.

He kissed you slowly, purposefully as you melted forward. Shifting against him, the kiss began to intensify. Mouths opening, your tongue swept forward in bold strokes against his. Suppressing a whimper, you ground your hips on his lap.

“Is,” you murmured, breaking free. “Is your bedroom unpacked?”

Jimin went still. “I – mostly, yeah.”

“Can I see it?”

“Fuck, yes,” he groaned, releasing your thighs as he stood from the couch.

You laughed, sliding down his front as your feet hit the ground. Tugging your dress down, you followed Jimin when he grabbed your hand. He pulled you down the hall, coming to a stop at the last room on the row. Pushing open the door, he flicked on the light and came to a stop.

Stepping forward, you glanced around Jimin’s room. You recognized some of the items from the two times you’d visited Jimin in the dorms. Photos of his family were carefully hung on the wall and he had the same pillows laid over his queen-sized bed.

Turning around, you took a step backwards and sat on his bed. “It’s nice,” you said, patting the comforter. “I like it here.”

Jimin watched you, his gaze half-lidded from the hall. “I like you here.”

Cheeks heating, you watched him enter and gently shut the door. Leaning back on your elbows, you arched a brow.

“Where’d we leave off?”

Jimin exhaled as he crossed the room. “I think you were on my lap,” he said hoarsely, kneeling beside you.

You nodded, moving to straddle him as he leaned to the wall. Catching your waist with both hands, Jimin pulled you against him, kissing you roughly even before you sat down. Suddenly ravenous, his hands slid to your ass as he rolled you against him. Inhaling sharply, you sucked his lower lip between teeth as he groaned.

Reaching up, Jimin tugged on your hair as you inhaled, throat exposed for him to kiss slowly down your front. When he returned to your lips, you ground your hips impatiently over the bulge in his pants.

Shifting his weight, Jimin’s spine hit the wall. He stared at you, slightly dazed with his kiss-reddened lips. Without looking away, Jimin lifted his fingers and began undoing his shirt. You stilled, watching each inch of skin be revealed. When he reached the last button, you gave in and helped push this aside. Smiling, Jimin sat up as his shirt fell to the floor.

You weren’t sure where to look first. Hands faltering, you slid them up his abs, over his shoulders and down his biceps. He was so perfect, it almost hurt to look at. Jimin’s breath quickened as you touched him and slowly, he lowered you down to the bed.

“Enough,” he said roughly, returning your lips to his.

As you kissed it turned lazy, nothing but grinding and touching. Jimin’s hair was messy beneath the pull of your fingers. He didn’t seem to mind, his own hands digging into the curve of your thigh. Playing with the hem of your dress, he deftly slid upwards.

“Jimin,” you said, breaking free. “Unzip me.”

His gaze darkened. “Are you sure?”

“Yes.”

Jimin nodded, following suit when you sat up beside him. Turning around, you exposed your back and Jimin began to lower the zipper. He moved slowly, taking his time as his fingers brushed skin. Holding the dress up with your hands, you waited until it was fully unzipped before releasing it to the floor.

Turning around, you found Jimin’s jaw slack.

“You…” He roughly inhaled while he scanned your body. “Lace, Y/N? Really?”

“Do you like it?” you asked.

You may have gone overboard preparing for tonight. Although you hadn’t been sure what would happen, you also hadn’t wanted to be caught off your guard. Tonight, your constant need to plan had come in handy. Beneath your dress you’d worn a crimson lace bra and panties – a matching set which Jimin seemed to like, based on his expression.

“You’re going to kill me,” he muttered, lowering his lips to your neck.

Kissing slowly down your chest, he came to a stop where the two halves joined together. Skimming the length of your torso, his hands trembled a little when he brushed the lace.

Jimin looked up. “I’m sorry I keep touching you,” he murmured. “I just – you’re driving me crazy. You’ve been driving me crazy.”

“You said that before,” you whispered.

“I meant it.”

Kissing again up your body, he lingered in places your skin was exposed. Inhaling, your eyes fluttered shut as you grasped his shoulders.

Jimin’s hand slid between your thighs. “Part them,” he murmured, and you obeyed.

Heart racing, you opened your eyes and watched Jimin drag a finger slowly up the center of your panties. Even you could feel how damp the fabric was, how wet and ready you were for him.

Lifting his finger to his lips, Jimin sucked. “You’re soaking,” he breathed, sounding eager. “So good to me.”

Lowering his head, his tongue flicked your breast. Teasing the nipple through fabric, he urged and he sucked until it was fully erect. Moving onto the next one, Jimin grazed with his teeth until it pressed wantonly into the lace cup of your bra. Moaning his name, you arched against him.

Finding your wrists, Jimin pinned you backwards as he continued. Thighs caging your waist, he kept you hostage with his exquisite torture. The lace of your bra was now drenched, Jimin sucking debauchedly through fabric.

“Jimin,” you groaned, twisting on the sheets. “Please.”

His hips rolled lazily against your center. “Not yet,” he insisted before pulling back. “Not until you make a mess of my sheets. Want to ruin these panties.”

Sliding a hand between your thighs, he lightly circled your entrance. Feeling how wet you were, Jimin softly groaned. Sitting back on his heels, he finally relented and pulled your panties down. Tossing these to the floor, he returned to your thighs and spread your legs.

Lightly, Jimin dragged the pads of his thumbs up and down your panty line. “God, you’re so perfect,” he murmured. “Got my sheets fucking soaked.”

Separating two of his fingers, he slowly dragged his digits up and down your folds. You inhaled, feeling needy while you watched him touch you. Each brush of his fingers had you dripping – teasing over your entrance, he refused to give you exactly what you wanted. Feather-light, Jimin circled your swollen clit with his finger.

Hands gripping the sheets, you could only stare while Jimin brought you closer and closer to the edge. He was barely touching you, but it was the most turned on you’d ever been in your life. Jimin’s thumb swiped over your clit, rubbing you gently as you keened in frustration, arching against him.

He continued like this until you were gasping, begging for more and then – only then – did he slide a finger inside you. Legs trembling, you arched on his mattress and stared at him, glassy-eyed. When Jimin began to move in and out, you lost all control.

Lowering his head, he closed his lips over your clit.

“Oh my god,” you whimpered as you broke apart.

Barely did he suck before you were coming undone, pulsing around his fingers. Shuddering with pleasure, you collapsed on the bed as you rode out your high. Gently, Jimin pulled out his finger and returned to your lips.

Reaching behind you, he undid the clasp of your bra and tossed this on the floor. Once you were fully naked, he pulled you against him. You felt limp, thoroughly sated, but familiar excitement began to stir at his front pressed to yours. Tilting your head, he gently kissed you while your fingers wound in his hair.

Jimin moved slow, letting you take the lead. Your core continued to throb with oversensitivity, although this seemed to lessen the longer you kissed him. Before long, your nipples were hardening as you rubbed against him. Fingers digging into your thigh, Jimin pulled this over his hip to watch you lazily grind.

Realizing he still wore pants, you lowered a hand, determined to fix this. Jimin helped, dragging the zipper down to throw both these and his boxers down on the floor.

He bent to kiss you again, but you placed a hand on his chest. “Wait,” you murmured. “I want to see you.”

Jimin exhaled, leaning back so you could take in his body. If you’d thought his chest was unreal, it was nothing compared to his trim hips, sculpted thighs and cock nestled between.

“Oh,” you said, dragging a hand down his front.

Jimin shuddered a little. He was already hard, his cock thick and pretty with a reddened tip. It made your mouth water to look at, wanting to lick up the shaft. Reaching between you, you closed your fist around him and slowly jerked him off.

You watched in fascination as Jimin responded. His jaw tightened, abs tense while you teased over his frenulum. His cock responded instinctively, hardening further the longer you touched him.

After a few minutes of this, Jimin shook his head. “No more,” he said huskily, taking your hand in his. “I’ll come if you keep doing that.”

“Oh?” you murmured, gaze darting lower.

He chuckled, a rough sound in his throat. “I like watching you come,” Jimin confessed, his cock hard between you. “It turns me on. I’m… still trying to recover from your last orgasm.”

“Oh,” you said, in a completely different way.

Jimin exhaled, hair falling forward. “I hope that doesn’t weird you out.”

“Does it… weird me out that you like giving orgasms?”

“Well, when you put it like that.”

“How else would I put it?”

His grin became devious. “You could ask for another.”

Breathless, you nodded and Jimin’s gaze darkened.

He descended your body, not wasting any time as he positioned himself between your legs. Licking slow up your center, you gasped and instinctively drew your legs higher. Jimin didn’t bother easing you into it. No, now he ate you out like he wanted to.

Kissing your folds, he returned to your clit and sucked this into his mouth. Rolling the sensitive bud with his tongue, he teased and released before you knew what was happening. He continued to do this, spreading you underneath him and bringing you close to coming, only to pull back and leave you maddeningly empty.

Spreading your folds, he began licking sweetly over your clit. This was followed by loose, lazy sucking and more tender flicks. You stared dazedly at him between your legs, the sight more erotic than anything you could’ve imagined.

Grinding his cock into the sheets, Jimin thrust his hips while he pleasured you. You could tell he enjoyed this; each grunt from his lips was more affirmation. Moving lower, he circled your cunt with his tongue just to lap up your juices. You gasped at the sensation, having never felt it before. Flicking your clit with his thumb, Jimin fucked your cunt with his tongue before he slowly withdrew.

Spreading you wide, he returned to your clit and you clasped a hand over your lips before a moan could escape. Each curl of his tongue left you gasping, writhing beneath the pleasurable onslaught of his mouth. Pulling away, Jimin pressed a gentle kiss to your thigh before he rose up your body.

At your mouth, he kissed your fingers. “You don’t have to be quiet,” he told you. “I want to hear the noises you make, Y/N. It makes me feel good.”

Removing your hand, you slowly nodded.

Jimin just grinned, dropping between your legs to begin eating you out again. This time, you didn’t hold back. Jimin seemed to appreciate this as you slipped further from control. He was so good with his mouth, making you see stars as your legs started to shudder. When he slid his finger inside you and fingered you again, your hands fisted in the sheets.

“Ji-jimin,” you gasped, writhing beneath him. “Jimin, I – oh.”

He began to move faster, adding a second finger as your insides clenched around him. Everything tightened, hovering at a breaking point while Jimin continued, relentless. His mouth on your clit, his fingers inside you – everything broke apart when you came, gasping his name.

Jimin didn’t move, kissing your sex as you slowly came down. He lapped at your sex, licking up your arousal before withdrawing his fingers. Once your breathing had steadied, Jimin returned to the sheets beside you.

“Good?” he breathed, draping an arm over your waist.

“Oh my god, yes,” you exhaled, burying your face in his chest.

He laughed, pulling you closer. Jimin started to pull away, which made you look up and frown.

“What are you doing?” you said.

He paused. “I’m looking for a tissue.”

“Why?”

“I… I’m kind of at a loss here.”

“No, I mean why now,” you said, baffled. “I can come again, Jimin. I want to come with you inside me.”

Jimin stared at you a moment.

“Unless…” Uncertain, you hesitated. “You don’t want to…?”

“Fuck,” Jimin muttered, sounding hoarse. “No – I want to. I really want to. Are you sure, though?” he said, reaching to open the side drawer of his bed.

You grinned when he pulled out a condom, ripping this open.

“I’m sure,” you murmured, moving closer.

Jimin rolled the condom onto himself, pausing before he went any further. Shifting his weight so he hovered over you, Jimin searched your gaze. Reaching lower, you casually stroked his cock and guided him to your center.

He didn’t enter yet, content to take his time. Instead, Jimin bent and kissed you, dragging a hand down your side. His fingers paused at your breast, tweaking your nipple until it stood fully erect. Moving to your waist, he curved under your ass and lifted your hips to his.

Arching upwards, you felt his cock brush your center. The touch made you pant, wanting him inside you and wanting it now. Rolling over his length, you marveled at the feel of him between your legs. Having him so close and not having him inside you was maddening.

“Jimin,” you whimpered.

“Yeah?” he murmured, continuing to thrust between your thighs.

“Please,” you begged him.

“Alright, baby,” he said and rolled you onto your back.

It was the first time he’d used the endearment, sending a wave of warmth through you as your legs parted. Reaching lower, Jimin positioned himself at your entrance. It took him a moment to work his way in; you were so wet, he needed a second try. With only his tip inside, you immediately clenched and buried your head in his shoulder.

Lightly, Jimin brushed a kiss to your hair. “Relax, baby,” he murmured, making you glance up. “I’ll make you feel good. I promise.”

Slowly, you nodded. “Okay.”

Laying slowly back down, you tried to relax while he worked his way deeper. With slow, shallow thrusts, Jimin finally bottomed out and you stared at him in amazement. His cock was thicker than you were used to and stuffed to the brim like this, you felt so full. Glancing down, you saw his hips nestled snugly to yours.

When you looked up, Jimin met your gaze. “I’m sorry,” he exhaled, hanging his head. “I just – I need a minute.”

“What’s wrong?” you blurted, immediately worried.

A smile passed over his lips. “Nothing’s wrong.” He looked up. “You’re just… fuck. I feel like a damn virgin. You’re so tight and wet, I’m losing my mind.”

Hearing him say this sent a shiver through you. Shifting your hips, you reveled in the sensation of him moving inside you.

Jimin groaned. “No,” he protested. “You can’t do that right now.”

“Do what?”

“Try and make me move,” he murmured. “I know you can’t see yourself, so you can’t see how hot you look. Tits out, pussy spread and dripping all over my cock.”

“Oh,” you breathed.

“Sounding like that.”

“Jimin. If you don’t –”

He suddenly thrust deeper, grinding his pelvis against your core and making you groan. Speechless, you stared as he slowly pulled out. Jimin teased you with his tip, moving a few inches back in before he thrust again.

“Oh,” you groaned, jolted upwards on the bed.

His gaze dropped to your chest. “Fuck,” Jimin said quietly, dropping down to an elbow.

He moved again in earnest, thrusting slowly in and pulling back out. It made your breath catch, needing more but loving the torture. It was torture to feel every inch of him and have Jimin continue to hold back. You knew he could go faster, deeper, but wanted to stay in control.

Dropping his head, Jimin slowly kissed your neck. His cock continued to move, fucking you slowly as your legs opened wider.

“Jimin,” you whimpered.

Your hips chased after his, hoping to coerce him deeper.

He smirked. “Yes, baby?”

“Please,” you said, arching against him. “I want more.”

“You want it harder?”

As he said this, Jimin increased his strength. Keeping the tempo the same, each thrust of his cock had your lips parting with pleasure.

“Yes,” you whimpered, barely hanging on.

“And faster? You want that, too?”

You nodded, slack-jawed as Jimin sped up the pace. His cock began to pound into you, hand fisting in sheets as he gave it to you hard. Arching underneath him, your hands dragged down his back as Jimin fully let go. With each thrust of his hips, his pelvis brushed your clit and yet, it still wasn’t enough.

“More?” he teased, continuing to fuck you.

“More,” you whimpered, sliding your hands up your breasts. Tweaking the nipples, you watched his gaze harden. “I want more, Jimin.”

He immediately moved, as though he’d been waiting for this. Grasping your ankles in one hand, he lifted them high overhead and pulled his cock out. You gasped when he did so, your hands falling to the side while you were put on display. The position pushed your pussy lips together, giving an incredible view of your dripping cunt.

Jimin plunged his cock back inside, nearly making you scream. It felt so deep this way – so deep and hard and deliciously wanton. Jimin fucked you from above, hips slamming into you and making your breasts bounce.

Jimin groaned, his hips never faltering. “Touch them,” he said, lowering your ankles to one shoulder. “Touch your tits for me, baby.”

You obeyed, hands sliding over your breasts to tease your nipples. This sent a shock of pleasure straight to your core and Jimin hammered your g-spot, making you see stars. Jaw slack, you could only lie there and take it while he made you come.

It was too much, the wave of pleasure threatening to overwhelm, but then Jimin leaned forward and you finally snapped. You felt him release into the condom as you fell apart, rope after rope of hot cum inside you.

Eventually, Jimin softened and fell onto his elbow. As he opened his eyes, he sought your gaze and you smiled. His cheeks were flushed, his hair dark and sweaty and you couldn’t help the deep surge of affection within you.

“I don’t know about you,” he murmured. “But that was pretty fucking incredible.”

“Same here,” you whispered. “I’d like to do it again sometime.”

“Three orgasms weren’t enough?”

“Were they enough for you?”

“No.” Jimin laughed. “I could watch you come all night. But we should probably get you cleaned up and all that.”

“Probably,” you agreed, although you made no effort to move.

Eventually Jimin sighed and gently pulled out. Tossing his condom in the trash, he showed you to the bathroom and let you do what you needed to do. When you returned, Jimin was on top of his bed. He’d put back on his boxers and held out his sweatshirt.

“I thought you might want this,” he said, uncertain.

Smiling, you took it and lowered it over your head. Climbing beside him on the bed, you rested your head on his shoulder and cuddled beside him. Listening to his breathing, you concentrated until yours started to match.

Outside, cheers erupted from the street. Scrambling upwards, you fought to look out Jimin’s side window. As you hurried to see what the commotion was about, Jimin groaned when you flashed him your bare ass, but followed suit.

Glancing outside, you realized it must have turned midnight. Fireworks went off over the skyline, people cheered below, and someone had lit a sparkler on the street. Voices drifted higher, wishing each other a happy new year as slowly, you turned around to face Jimin.

He smiled at you, his happiness clear when he pulled you to him. A dizzying rush of what-if’s and excitement went through you and somehow, you knew this would be only the beginning.

“Happy new year,” he murmured.

“Happy new year,” you whispered, tilting your face up to his.

Author’s Note: Thank you so much for reading this series 😊 It’s been a whirlwind, so thank you for sticking with our main characters throughout the journey! I hope you enjoyed and are having a wonderful holiday season :) happy (almost) new year!

RAISE THE BARRE MASTERLIST 

© kpopfanfictrash, 2020. Do not copy or repost without permission.

[my-plastic-life]

Creating Kagome Part 1: The Doll

WARNING: VERY LONG POST AHEAD!

The journey began with me finding someone who could make Kagome’s school uniform since there’s no way I can do that lol. If her outfit couldn’t be made, the entire project would be in vain. Fortunately, I found a very talented seamstress who’d made Sailor Moon outfits for Made to Move Barbie bodies. I contacted her, and she said she could make Kagome’s uniform! Yay!!!

Next up was choosing the perfect doll. That alone took a good month and a half. I’d planned to use a Barbie for sure because I’m familiar with Barbie and her mechanics (i.e., head swaps and body compatibilities), plus she’s the most common fashion doll for clothes and accessories. And these days, she comes in a variety of skin tones... which turned out to be a big deciding factor for choosing the perfect candidate. I was making this doll specifically to go with my 12″ figure, and if you look at official images of the couple, and even watch the episodes, you’ll see that they have almost the same skin tone. In Barbie terms, the purple top Made to Move doll (ironically, the Asian one) was too pale in comparison to my figure. If I were making Kikyo, she’d work. But I wasn’t. I was making Kagome, and despite the story, the two are vastly different in terms of personality (and even, in my opinion, appearance - I never thought they looked that much alike).

My first plan was to use one of these dolls:

They’re both anime Mattel dolls from the Barbie Video Game Hero movie. They already had the anime face, so I thought whichever one worked best would just need a reroot and a body swap and I’d be done! WRONG. The neck hole in the doll’s head was vastly smaller than that of a Barbie, and I wasn’t comfortable cutting it to make it larger. I only had one shot, and knowing me, I’d mess it up drastically and be majorly sunk. So I knew I had to use just a regular Barbie instead, one without the anime face mold.

So then I found some Barbies that had the appropriate skin tone - I chose the wheelchair body, and of course it had to be a Made to Move body for posing capabilities. Victory! But of course, anime characters have those distinctive large eyes, and a Barbie face wasn’t going to cut it. So I had to contact a repainter on Etsy and ask if he could repaint a Barbie face to resemble Kagome’s. Then we had to determine the best face mold for that because of how defined the lips were. Anime characters also have tiny noses and mouths, so we agreed that the Lea face mold would be the most effective.

The doll I finally decided on was a Fashion Fever Lea circa 1999. Her skin tone matched the Made to Move body, so I was thrilled to finally have a doll picked out!

She did, of course, need a reroot because she had blonde/brown streaks in her hair, and Kagome’s hair is solid black. I can’t reroot, and I’m hesitant to dye doll hair for fear of staining the doll or her clothes, so I had to send the head off to get her rerooted. When that process was done, I sent her to my painter.

This process alone took about three months. When I finally got the doll back and complete, I was so happy - until my mom, who isn’t even an avid fan of the show, asked me if I thought the doll really looked like Kagome.

(NOTE: That uniform is one I got from a different seller, and she’d mistakenly used an old 90s TNT body rather than the Made to Move body as the base, so it’s a little large on her. That backpack was made by Beautyshare on Etsy).

So after looking at the doll, while I do love her, I decided that yes, she is more of a “Barbie as” version of Kagome rather than the actual character. The problem was her largely defined nose and mouth. Nothing wrong with her, but I decided I needed to keep looking. Like I said, being an OCD perfectionist is both a blessing and a curse.

So I continued to hunt for the perfect doll to use. I thought a Momoko doll might work, but she was too short and also didn’t have the desired face sculpt. So I finally decided to just type into Google Images one day “11″ anime doll.” I had no idea what would pop up, but what I got changed everything. Among the results were, of course, some Azone dolls and generic action figures, but then my eyes drifted to this doll and my jaw dropped:

Her face really helped seal the deal - her eyes were already the perfect shape, and she had that itty bitty nose and the small mouth that was smiling! She’d obviously need her eyes painted brown, and her eyebrows would need to be black and not blue, but I knew I could do that easily enough. Larger anime eyes are easier to paint those little details on as opposed to the tiny Barbie eyes.

The next step was to see if I could even find this doll. She’s an older one, based off an old Sega game known as Sakura Wars. I’ve never heard of it, but at this point that was irrelevant. I was making props in between searching for the right doll, plus having some custom made due to my lack of ability to sew and ordering others (thanks, ReMent!), so I knew I had to get this doll going. To my pleasant surprise, eBay had a large assortment of this doll available, all in the United States!

My next concern was whether or not the skin tone would work. All the anime dolls I’d seen so far (Azone, Obitsu, and even custom-made ones by other people over the years) had that super pale skin tone that belongs to Kikyo, not Kagome. So I looked at several listings, trying to determine if the skin tone would work. Then luck really came to my side as I found this doll for sale deboxed, resulting in a much lower price (this doll wasn’t expensive even in the box, but hey, I’ll save money wherever I can! I don’t need the box!)... and the seller was actually holding the doll in their hand! That allowed me to see the doll’s skin tone in comparison to someone’s actual hand, and it was almost the exact same shade. So I knew I had to jump at this chance.

Next up - wait for the post office to deliver this doll (don’t get me started on the USPS...). I was so anxious, wondering if she’d be okay for what I wanted to do. When she arrived at last, I opened her up and was pleased to see that she was about Barbie-sized (a tad shorter but her head wasn’t too small like some other anime dolls out there, so it would fit on the Made to Move body), and her skin tone didn’t look like the purple top Made to Move. That’s good. So, moment of truth. I took the doll into my doll room, where the decapitated body was waiting. I held the Barbie hand up to this doll’s face, and...

SUCCESS!!! A perfect match!!! The relief and excitement that washed over me was intense! At last I had an anime doll!!!

Of course, nothing is quite that simple. This head removed from the body super easy (it’s just a peg inside, no hooks at all), but the head hole was too small for the Barbie body. But only by a little bit. So I took a chance and grabbed my X-Acto knife and sliced off the inner ring inside the head. That did it! It took a little bit of elbow grease, but the head did get on the body! I then had to use a bit more force to slide it down the neck so it didn’t look like it was just sitting on top of it, but I got that too!

Original neck hole:

After using the X-Acto knife:

The prepared body (the neck peg is necessary to secure the head to the neck, but I did completely remove the hook portion since that isn’t necessary and it was too tall for the head anyway):

On the body!

Next up was the hair. I’d hoped to just dye the hair, somehow, thanks to various YouTube tutorials. Her hair was blue, and obviously that wouldn’t do. So I took it out of its ponytail, and received yet another surprise... not a pleasant one, though. Because the doll’s hair had been in a ponytail, the manufacturers apparently thought there didn’t need to be a lot of said hair, so there were a TON of bald spots! So even if I did manage to color the hair, there was no way there’d be enough of it to make it look how it should. So to Etsy I went to find a rerooter!

What luck I had yet again when I asked a few potential rerooters and came across Paradise Doll Designs, who was actually following me on Etsy and turned out to be a fan of Inuyasha! So I knew I had my candidate! And she did a superb job! I enjoyed talking to her during the duration of the reroot, which didn’t take long at all! The process took about a month starting from shipping the head to it being shipped back. Yes!!!

Even my mother agreed that this doll looked better than the Barbie! LOL! So when the reroot was done, the head was returned! Every time I got a step closer to my ultimate goal, I just felt like this:

Now granted, the character’s hair has kind of “spiky” shapes in the back, and her bangs aren’t uniform in size and kind of stick up, but keep in mind this is doll hair, so there’s only so much that can be done with it. It’s not like a sculpture that can be manipulated, even with a ton of hair spray and mousse. I used some of that (cream and spray meant specifically for synthetic/doll hair - I’ve read not to use real people hair products on dolls because it could cause damage down the road) on the back to give it that kind of uneven look, and once I got the outfit on the doll, it really helped tie it together!

Source photos:

I looked at those pictures for so long trying to get the hair just right! LOL It looks better with the outfit on, because when the doll had no clothes on, there was no perspective or context. :D

So the next step for this doll was getting her eyes painted! Finding the right shades of brown wasn’t as difficult as I feared it would be. I managed to get the eyes painted, though of course one had to be stubborn while the other was nearly perfect. But I eventually got them! I’d bought some special tiny acrylic brushes just for this project, and had been saving them in anticipation. I used one of them to go over the blue eyebrows with black paint (no Sharpie in case I made a mistake), and though they aren’t perfect, the bangs cover up the imperfections.

Source photo:

Well, she should be done by this point, right? Not quite. Remember the lovely rerooter I mentioned? Well, she was also among those on Instagram who discovered that it’s possible to switch out Barbie doll hands! YES! I was terrified to do that for fear of breaking the little pegs, but with Sara’s guidance, I managed to accomplish it! She told me that the DC Super Hero Girls dolls, also by Mattel, were perfectly compatible with Barbie. This was ideal for me, as the hands that were designed to hold swords and hammers would be perfect for Kagome to hold her bow, walk her bike, and even hold her little bottle of jewel shards (more on props later)! So... hand swap time!

This doll is my biggest hybrid doll ever. Sega doll head, Barbie Made to Move body, DC Super Hero Girls hands, completely custom-made outfit and accessories, full reroot, fresh face paint, etc. All in all, I am so excited to have this doll at last! And just in time for the anime’s 20th anniversary!!! Yes, the anime debuted in October 2000, and 20 years later, in October 2020, the series not only celebrated its 20th anniversary, but also dropped a sequel! And the manga that the anime is based off of? This year is its 25th anniversary! It debuted in 1996! I thought this was the perfect time for such a large project that’s been nine months in the making (plus 17 years considering when I first had the idea!). So now, behold, the final product:

HALLELUJAH!!! This has been a long, and at times stressful, journey, but I am so ecstatic now! I had so much fun bringing this character to life, not only to go with my beloved 12″ figure but also because I enjoy turning dolls into characters that I love, that I’ve decided to try my luck at making some others... I think Miroku and Sango should join in, don’t you? :D They most likely won’t be as perfect/detailed as Kagome, but I’m still excited to get started on them as well!

Stay tuned for the post about Kagome’s props - because no doll or figure is complete without those!

CREDITS: Reroot by Paradise Doll Designs School uniform by elenpriv Face paint by me Bow and arrows by me Quiver customization by me

[bestjeanistmonster]

I have this "with no logic" NNT AU where Zeldris swaps Mael's destiny, I am talking about Gwother using his magic to make all the world think that Zeldris is the little brother of Ludociel (male b!th) and Mael, and that the angels killed Zeldris instead... I know, it doesn't need logic to work

Logic is for fools, i love this-

After a quick google search I have renamed Zeldris : 

ZADKIEL

He was gifted with a grace from the supreme deity after successfully ‘killing’ Prince Zeldris of the Demon Race, the ‘Executioner’. 

Zadkiel admired his brothers a lot, sharing in their utter disdain for the demon race and doing his best to eradicate as many as possible. However Zadkiel is a tad on the insane side because prior to receiving a grace he had no light magic, he couldn’t even produce an arc, and because the grace is not meant for his body cuz he’s a demon it’s slowly chipping away at his mind.

So that’s fun for him.

Meliodas wouldn’t fall in love with Elizabeth in this au and wouldn’t defect to stigma because those are the bitches who killed his brother. The demon is firmly stuck in the second stage of grief (anger), determined to wipe the archangels off the face of Britannia, specifically the culprit, Zadkiel.

He was then sealed away with the rest of the demon race, never able to properly grieve for his brother. (I personally believe that all the demons were just asleep in the coffin with time frozen, so when they wake up it’s like they’ve only been a second since they fell asleep)

Que war on Britannia, the archangels possessing random ppl so they can fight, Zadkiel decides to possess Guila and as soon as he does Meliodas senses him and is instantly ready to kill.

Before Zadkiel emerged Meliodas was just numbly taking over Britannia, not really being that into it honestly and then as soon as he feels that damn goddess’s magic his angry vibes are so potent they are felt for miles.

This’ll be fun for everyone.

[lady-divine-writes]

Good Omens one-shot - “When God Closes a Door, She Opens a Window, But It's Up to You to Find It” (Rated T)

Summary: Crowley goes through unconventional lengths to escape a bad blind date...

... and ends up finding an angel in an unexpected place. (2770 words)

Notes: This is a re-write of an older story, but I think I like this version better. Human au. Fluffy as heck. CW: If you get squicked out by being covered in food trash, proceed with caution.

Read on AO3.

"Bollocks... bollocks... bollocks... bollocks... " Crowley mutters as she paces back and forth, simmering behind her eyeballs with so much anxiety she's about to tear her hair out by the roots. The only plan she can come up with to solve her current dilemma grows hotly in her mind, but she's searching for something - ANYTHING! - to take its place. 

Maybe something along the lines of acting like an adult, womaning up, and admitting this isn’t going to work? Be upfront about it and say it to the man’s face, for Heaven's sake! 'Go on, Crowley!' she thinks. 'Go ahead! One foot in front of the other. Steady on! You can do this!'

But she’s become so tired of the grind – going to bars, faithfully tending her online dating profile, endless blind dates set up by well-meaning friends, the rejecting and the rejections. She can’t face one more. It physically hurts, knots her stomach muscles until the pain turns her world monochromatic.

Crowley had had high hopes for this one, too. Her date Steven is the new doctor of the boy she nannies. He and Crowley have plenty in common – a love of theater and fine dining, and an appreciation for fashion. Crowley thought dating a pediatrician would be fascinating. After summarizing the pertinent details of her own life, perhaps her date would talk about getting through medical school, toss in a few whimsical stories about the joys (quote/unquote) of working with children - baby’s first shots where the parents cried more than the infant, or the tale of a precocious little girl who demanded he put a Band-Aid on her teddy before he helped her (the way Crowley's young charge had with his first doctor when he was around three). They could swap war stories, bond in that way.

But Steven’s favorite part of his profession is pediatric surgery, and, unfortunately, he loves to talk shop. Every morsel of conversation has been inappropriate for dinner and graphic in nature - appendectomy this and tonsillectomy that, abscesses and pus and untreated sores - until Crowley’s face turned as green as her salad and she couldn’t look at her steak anymore.

Neither could their neighbors, who flagged down a passing waiter and requested a new table. They've been sat near the kitchen, which most diners would loathe, but they look heaps happier.

Crowley excused herself as delicately as she could and raced to the loo, needing to escape any more gruesome talk. 

That was over fifteen minutes ago. 

She’s trapped with no way out.

She pictures the layout of the restaurant in her head. There has to be a back way in and out of this place. All restaurants have an exit through the kitchen, right? But the toilet, the kitchen, and the front door are all in full view of their table. Steven is sure to spot her sneaking out no matter how stealthy she is.

Crowley turns on the cold water and splashes her face, scolding herself to think, think, think! She’s an intelligent woman. She can come up with a way out of this. Could she phone someone to come down to the restaurant and make an excuse for her? Not likely, not on short notice. Her friends Anathema and Newt wouldn't be able to find a sitter - ironic, seeing as Crowley is a nanny, and if the tables were turned, she'd be more than willing to lend a hand.

Could she phone her employers, ask Mrs. Dowling to claim an emergency at home? No. She doesn't want to get them tangled up in her personal woes, especially when they concern a man they think of so highly.

She could look up one of those services that make fake calls to your cell phone to get you out of sticky situations, but that would mean going back out there to make the ruse believable. And from the way her hands lock around the lip of the basin every time she thinks about taking a step outside the door, she knows that isn’t happening.

Crowley looks at herself in the mirror, looks into her eyes, and reminds herself to calm down. Slow her breathing. She’ll find a solution. 

And suddenly, there it is. 

In the reflection of the mirror, she sees what might be her only way out.

A window. 

The only window in there, propped open enough that she’d be able to fit through. 

It’s kind of high, sort of narrow, and definitely a last resort. But what other choice does she have?

Loads, in reality. It just doesn't feel like it.

But does she really have to resort to jumping out a window? She’s already been in there for (she checks her watch and her eyes open wide) twenty-five minutes! And her date hasn’t come to check on her once. Maybe the man got the hint and left (hopefully after paying what should be close to a hundred-pound check). 

Crowley tests her luck, opening the door a sliver, praying silently don’t be there, don’t be there, don’t be there...

But there is no God - not one on her side, anyway - because there sits Dr. Steven Malory, talking to the waiter, telling him about another fascinating surgical procedure. He makes an exaggerated cutting motion across his stomach with a butter knife. The poor waiter, weighed down by a tray of soup bowls, nods politely, but looks like he may vomit in the tureen.

She winces. That poor waiter. Who knows how many times he's been called upon to lend an ear since her absence, or how many more times he'll be forced to endure another gory tale before Dr. Malory realizes she's gone. She peeks over her shoulder at the window, then back to the table, where Steven has his phone out, Googling something to the waiter's dismay. She slowly closes the door and backs away.

Window it is.

Crowley shelves the nagging feeling that she's perpetuating the most pathetic trope in the dating world and starts constructing a platform. There’s not much available – a small stepstool underneath the sink; a short, square, plastic rubbish bin that looks less than steady; another taller rubbish bin, dented along one side, looking like someone else already used it to make a break for freedom; and the toilet and basin, both miles away and completely unmovable.

Crowley does some quick engineering in her head and figures that if she turns the small bin over onto the stepstool, she might gain the height she needs to grab the lip of the window and hoist herself up, which would eliminate using the dented bin. She doesn’t like the odds that she won’t slip, fall, and crack her head open. She’s not so much worried about doing any permanent damage, but of having to explain to her date why she’s lying on the floor, covered in trash, and bleeding profusely.

With her luck, he'll giddily insist on stitching up any gashes, drawing a crowd of bystanders around to watch.

Crowley pushes the stool up against the wall with her foot. She dumps the trash from the small bin into its larger counterpart and sets it on the stool, centering it as best she can to keep it from sliding. With a hand on the wall for support, she puts a foot on the bin and attempts to pull herself up. It wobbles back and forth, then gives one backward lurch that nearly sends Crowley flying. 

She determines quickly that this isn’t going to work the way she had planned and makes a desperate leap for the window, using all her upper body strength to get her halfway through.

Crowley shudders when the cold air hits her skin, shocked by the drop in temperature, but mostly from fear of death. She looks down. 

A huge mistake on her part.

A horribly placed streetlamp keeps her from seeing into the alley, but she’s pretty sure she remembers a dumpster underneath this window. She had parked her Bentley in the lot across the way and saw it on the walk in. She looks out into the rows of cars and spots her vehicle. She sighs with relief. 

Now she’s a little more sure, but still not 100%.

Worst case scenario, she lands in food muck, probably not rotten since it’s still actively dinner, and ruins an expensive designer outfit.

Of course, that’s not actually the worst-case scenario, is it? Worst case scenario, she misses the dumpster altogether, hits the pavement, and breaks her leg, but she’s determined to remain optimistic. At this moment, when her anxiety-ridden brain has her convinced that the only logical route out is through this flippin' window, that’s a chance she’s willing to take.

She swings her right leg over, grateful that she chose slacks over a skirt tonight, till she’s straddling the narrow sill, bent in half by the metal lip of the window frame. She balances there, the dull edge digging into her sternum, her belly, and her crotch, but she can’t make herself jump. 

She’ll need to trick herself into it. 

She forces herself to relax, teeter-tottering back and forth, not dwelling on the possible outcome, just trying to work her way to the right far enough that she knocks herself off-kilter.

Fate lends a hand in the form of a drunken passerby yelling, “Oi! Oi, lookie there! There’s a big bird... human... thing hanging out that window!” 

Crowley panics, afraid she's about to be mistaken for someone breaking into a busy restaurant and not out. She fumbles, flails, starts falling head first, scrambles to get a hold. She hears a distant, “No! No, wait!” as her fingers slip. There are three seconds of cold wind and a sinking feeling in her stomach before she lands on her bum, thankfully in the dumpster, surrounded by the smell of not-too-rank food, the squish of something under her body that she thinks might be mashed cauliflower... 

... and a scream.

“Ouch!”

“Oh my God! I’m sorry!” 

Crowley yelps when her body lifts, something extraordinarily strong underneath pushing her up. She reaches around the slippery mess and wet plastic bags, struggling to pull herself off whoever is in the rubbish under her while trying to ignore the gravy seeping into her slacks, or the rice pilaf embedding itself beneath her freshly glossed fingernails. She knows she's broken two at minimum. 

How much worse could this evening get?

“I’m sorry!” Crowley scrambles to her knees, crawls away a few feet. “I’m so, so sorry!” 

“It’s alright, my dear.” A voice underneath her chuckles, its owner emerging from a layer of poached fish and au gratin potatoes.

Crowley turns in time to catch a glimpse as they move into the light. A woman wearing a vintage-inspired emerald gown covered in Hollandaise sauce and ranch dressing smiles sheepishly at her. The white light overhead gives a halo effect to her silvery-blonde hair, and her blue eyes almost glow.

She's quite breathtaking. 

“I thought I had reserved a private dumpster,” she jokes. “I’ll need to have a word with the maître de."

Crowley stares at her, stunned. “I… I don’t understand. What are you doing in here?”

“I suspect I might be here for the same reason as you,” she says, wiping mayonnaise off her hand before offering it to Crowley. “I’m Aziraphale.”

“Crowley. I’m sorry I landed on you.” She takes Aziraphale’s hand, forgetting to wipe hers off before and smushing creamed spinach between them. Crowley groans in embarrassment, but Aziraphale laughs.

“No worries.” Aziraphale doesn't let go immediately the way Crowley thought she would, her smile becoming brighter the longer she holds on. “It’s the most exciting thing that’s happened all evening.”

“So... I take it you’re running away from a bad date, too, huh?” Crowley asks, regretting when Aziraphale finally lets go.

“I'm afraid so.” Aziraphale glances down with a long sigh. “A friend set me up, but I swear, the only men she knows are unemployed, torpid, and skeevy.”

“Wow. That’s some A-plus word usage right there.”

“Yes, well, the written word is my passion."

“Does that mean you're the one who wrecked the silver rubbish bin?"

“Did I?” Aziraphale looks up at the window and grimaces. “I should probably offer to replace that then, shouldn't I? What about you?” Aziraphale turns her soft blue eyes back Crowley's way. “How bad was your date going?”

“I can now perform an appendectomy with my eyes shut.”

“Yikes. I take it that’s not a turn-on for you?”

“Not in the slightest. I appreciate medicine as much as the next gal, but I’d rather not know the gritty details." Crowley stares at Aziraphale until Aziraphale notices, then the two look away, blushing like giggly teenagers flirting in a coffee shop instead of two adults stuck in the trash. Crowley can't help herself. Regardless of the stench of curdled butter and cheese that will probably be with her for life, Aziraphale is a calming presence. And she looks like an angel. An honest-to-God angel! 

And Crowley found her in the trash. 

What are the odds?

“You know, we might want to get out of here before anyone else drops in,” Aziraphale suggests, rising to her feet and lending Crowley a hand.

“Yeah,” Crowley agrees. "Guess that's my night over. Though... " She looks down at her blouse and trousers, positively caked with sweet potatoes, chicken grease, tomato sauce, and chutney "... I’m not looking forward to driving home like this.”

"How far do you have to go?"

"I'm in Mayfair."

"Oh!" Aziraphale gasps. "Isn't that a lovely part of town?"

"I enjoy it," Crowley replies, never having felt quite so proud to live in Mayfair as she does in this moment. "And you?"

"I have a shop in SoHo."

"Lucky. You're just a hop, skip, and a jump, aren't you?"

"Yes, I am... " Aziraphale chews the inside of her cheek as her words hang, balanced in the air between stopping a thought or continuing it. “I hope you don’t think I’m being too forward, but if you come back to my shop, I have a shower. We could clean up there... " Aziraphale sputters when Crowley's eyebrow arcs sharply upward. "S-separately, of course! A-and order in some pie. I know a great spot nearby. I dare say they have the best pie in the world! And they deliver.”

“I don’t have a change of clothes,” Crowley says, wary of taking Aziraphale up on her invitation. Garbage notwithstanding, meeting her has definitely been an improvement to the way things were going. 

"I might have something that would work for you." Aziraphale sizes Crowley up, but not in a creepy way. In a surprisingly nurturing way. "It would be nice to salvage the evening, don't you think?"

"It would." But one disastrous date is plenty for the night. Should Crowley jump straight to another with a woman she met in a dumpster? Then again, it would be wrong for her to assume that spending time with Aziraphale would be disastrous. Plus the story of how they met is way too fantastic to waste on self-doubt.

Crowley took a chance on jumping out a window with only hope to guide her. She’d be stupid not to take a chance on this.

“Sure,” Crowley says, confident with her decision. “Your car or mine?” The words slip out before she considers the fact that she's talking about her baby. A vintage car that she, due to an extreme case of sheer luck, has been the sole owner of. She won't even wear muddy shoes in her car. Or rayon! On top of her own ruined outfit, which will need to be dry cleaned twice and then set on fire, if she lets Aziraphale in her car, she'll have two sloppy, food-stained seats that she’ll need to have scoured. 

Maybe Aziraphale will laugh her off and offer to take her own car. Why would she want to leave it behind, anyway?

“Oh, I didn't drive,” Aziraphale says, looking down sadly at her own destroyed dress. “I took the bus.”

Crowley's heart clenches. There's that decision made. There's no way she's going to suggest Aziraphale take the bus while Crowley drives her car. She just prays that, with time, her baby will forgive her.

“My car it is then.” Crowley loops her arm covered in soup through Aziraphale’s arm covered in whipped cream and leads the way. Aziraphale smiles, holds Crowley's arm a wee bit tighter, and Crowley becomes certain this new development will be worth the money she'll spend detailing her car in the morning.

[lilith-clawthorne-appreciation]

hrrrng fic

uh roleswap au, I dont have a name for it yet, essentially lilith and eda are swapped, but their personalities and everything else is the same. 

this is like 5 1/2 pages in google docs, I suck at grammar. I dont know how fic ratings work but there is cursing, there will probably be some fight scenes later in the fic, but nothing explicit.

Also, I haven’t figured out a permanent name for swap hooty, so if anyones got any suggestions let me know

“Tiny little trash thief!” Luz shouted, chasing after the white raven that had stolen the book she had regretted putting in the trash the moment it left her hands. The raven was carrying a large bag that Luz realized must have their book inside. She was determined to get that book back, running further than she had ever run in any gym class. The raven entered a house, which then began to glow. It was old and abandoned, the roof was collapsing and spiderwebs covered every hole in its walls. In any movie or anime Luz had watched, this is where a murderer would hide. But they were determined to get their book back. Ignoring every common sense she had learned, she rushed in through the doors, which creaked a little, and through the glowing light. 

Beyond the light was a tent, filled with clothes and other assorted junk, packed neatly into boxes. Was this someone's closet? Before she had time to think about that any longer, Luz saw the raven run past a curtain. Luz slowly opened the curtain, suddenly weary of axe-wielding murderers, but saw none of the sort past the curtain.

“Well done Artemisia.” a woman said, stroking the raven. The woman had long, dark hair that flowed down to her waist. She was wearing a dark, long-sleeved dress, the end shifted into feathers, an incredibly bold choice for this weather. Artemisia jumped onto the end of a stick, and with a snap of the woman’s fingers, turned into a wood carving. The woman began to sort through the bag.

“Let’s see here, a holy grail... Well that's worthless, everyone and their mother has one of these. A ring? Well I can’t imagine that relationship ended well. They didn’t even pawn it! Ha! And this-” The woman pulled out a book, Luz’s book. “A Good Witch Azura book? I haven’t seen one of these since-”

“I’ll take that back, thanks!” Luz deftly snatched the book and turned around, trying to run back home. As she turned, however, the light she had come through closed, revealing a door that folded in on itself.”

“ I think not.” The woman scolded. She was taller than Luz anticipated, and even more threatening in this lighting.

Luz bolted for the other side of the tent, almost knocking it over as she lifted one of the cloth walls. However the house Luz had come through was gone, instead they found themselves standing above a cliff, peering down into a world completely unlike her own. Such a world would be unimaginable to the people back home, especially her mother. Out of the corner of their eye, Luz spotted a little fairy coming towards them.

“Hello little fairy, are you going to tell me this is all a fantastical dream I’m having?” Luz asked, her mind unable to keep up with what her eyes were seeing.

“Give me your skin!” the fairy screamed, revealing its sharp teeth. Luz screamed as a hand slapped the fairy to the ground.

“Damn pixies.” The woman hissed, grabbing Luz’s hood and dragging her back. “That thing isn’t your friend, it's a parasite, and a fucking annoying one at that.”

“Am I in hell?” Luz asked the woman, Naively hoping for an honest answer from the woman dragging her by the hood. The woman chuckled softly.

“Close enough.” The woman responded, sitting Luz down. “No, you’re on the boiling isles, which is weird for a human like you.” The woman explained, examining Luz’s ears.

“Are you not a-”

“I’m a witch, and a powerful one at that.” The woman interrupted. “Here’s the deal. I sell human relics Artemisia here collects from trash bins. It’s not like you need it anyway, if you’ve discarded it. If you help me figure out how some of these things work, I’ll return you home. Does that sound like a deal, Human?” The woman asked, blatantly judging Luz.

“My name is Luz, and yes, it does sound like a deal.” Luz asserted. Sorting through junk? That was nothing!

“Good, now Luz, tell me about this shadow box.” The woman lifted up a small TV that wasn’t functioning.

“That's called a television, if you have some batteries, small cylinders that might say ‘Energizer’ on them-”

“You mean these candies?” The woman interrupted, holding one dangerously close to her mouth.

“Wait! Don’t eat that! It is not candy, it will kill you, and it doesn’t even taste nice!” Luz warned, snatching the batteries, as the woman stared at her hand. Possibly contemplating how she almost died.

“How do you know what it tastes-” 

 “-As I was saying, you just plop these in here, and Voila!” The tv began playing some 80’s workout routine, with catchy music. Catchy enough to lure the attention of most of the market. People began rushing over.

“Settle down, settle down. I have plenty of these to sell, batteries separately of course.” The woman declared, trying to calm the crowd as she stood on the table, beginning to take people’s money. Some burly men with pointed masks began pushing through the crowd, which caught the woman’s attention immediately.

“You can’t get away now, Raven Lady!” one of them yelled, scaring away the crowd, all fleeing back to the other stalls, pretending nothing had happened, so as not to attract the masked men.

“We have to go, they don’t like me, and I don’t want you getting caught up in this, Luz.” She cautioned, scooping Luz onto her staff before climbing on herself and taking off. 

The staff was faster than anything Luz had ever been on before. They had flown so high up Luz could see what looked like a big skeleton that had towns and structures on it. Is that what the boiling isles were? Luz had never been afraid of heights before, but with everything happening, they were a bit overwhelmed and needed to close their eyes.

Luz felt the wind blast against her face. At the speed they were moving, it felt like multiple fans at once, which would be refreshing in this weather, If Luz wasn’t so worried about falling to their death. Suddenly, they slowed down. Wondering if they had landed, Luz began to peek out. Big mistake, as in that moment they had begun plummeting. Luz shrieked a little.

They slowed down a second time. This time Luz gripped the stuff tighter. How far had they just gone down? If they were going to go down further, how high were they to begin with? Is this OSHA regulated?

“We’re on the ground now, Luz.” the Raven Lady affirmed, trying to pry Luz from the staff. Luz opened her eyes.

“Do you need to take a test to be able to fly one of those things?” Luz asked, legs still shaking a little.

“Yes, and I failed. Now come on!” the Raven Lady quipped, once again dragging Luz by the hoodie. They approached a house, somewhat worn down, but not nearly as much as the one Luz had entered the portal in. There was a big stained glass window that looked like an eye and, wait. Did that door have a face?

“Names and password. The Raven Lady has no need for trespassers” The face snapped, with a glare in Luz’s direction.

“You know who I am, Ray, and she's with me. Move aside.” The Raven Lady vouched, opening the door, almost ignoring the face, which glared more at Luz as they walked by. 

“So you’re the Raven Lady then? That’s what people call you?” Luz asked, looking around the house at all the strange decorations.

“Among other things, yes.” The raven lady sighed, using her staff to point to a wanted poster. 10,000,000,000 snails, which Luz figured must be a lot. “But my name is Lilith Clawthorne.”

“So should I call you Ms. Clawthorne, then?” Luz asked, still staring at the wanted poster.

“What does it matter? You can go home in a moment anyways, I see no use in you sticking around here.” Lilith responded, almost concerned about how quickly the human had warmed up to her. 

“Well I was thinking, I will help you with your human stand. Hopefully I won't make anything too flashy to attract those guys again…” Luz nervously chuckled.

“And?” Lilith inquired wearily, though she had a feeling she knew where this was going.

“And you teach me how to do magic, Like the Good Witch Azura!” Luz finished. Looking excitedly at Lilith, who was observing Luz.4

“So you’re a Good Witch Azura fan then. And a pretty loyal one at that.” Lilith smiled a little. “I have no objections, but what about your family?” Lilith looked almost concerned, like she had family of her own she hadn’t seen in a while.

“I’m supposed to be at a summer camp right now, so mi mamá won’t notice! I swear! And I still have my phone so I can text mi mamá whenever I want” Luz blurted out, much to the shock of Lilith. Holding up her phone Luz noticed there was no service on the Isles. “Well, I may need to get some cell service from the portal actually.” Luz murmured. 

“Well if you’re sure about that. I am unsure if humans can even perform magic, but if it is possible, I will teach you. If you do get homesick, however, notify me immediately so I can get you some ‘cell service’, or return you home.” Lilith smiled and walked towards a staircase. “It's probably best if you meet my roommate now.” She looked up the stairs. “King, can you come here for a minute?” She hollered.

A small creature about the size of a puppy came bounding down the stairs. Its entire head was a skull, with one horn that had been broken off. The rest of its body was covered in black and grey fur, meeting the head at a red collar.

“¡Ah! ¡Qué lindo!” Luz exclaimed, Running over to scoop the demon up in her arms, holding him tight as he tried to escape.

“Lilith, what is happening here? What monster have you brought into our home?” King demanded, slipping out of Luz’s arms.

“That’s Luz, the human. She’ll be staying here so you best get used to it.” Lilith said, looking unimpressed at the small demons' struggle.

“That's not fair! Why do I, the King of demons, have to share my house with a human?” King shrieked, stamping his foot.

“Why do I have to share my house with you?” Lilith sneered, still gripping her staff, pointing it accusingly at King.

“Because you like me, and want to return me to my rightful throne!” King declared, lifting up one of his paws like a fist. 

“Correct. Well that first part anyway.” Lilith said, looking unimpressed with King’s display. “Well I like Luz too, so get used to it.” Lilith finished, placing down her staff. “I don’t have a room with a bed set up for you yet. Would you mind sleeping in a sleeping bag for a few days?” Lilith asked, turning towards Luz.

“Oh it’s not a problem! It’ll be just like camping!” Luz replied optimistically, grabbing her bag and walking towards Lilith.

“Then it’s settled. We can begin figuring out exactly what a human can do tomorrow. I’ll give you the rest of today to adjust, but let's find a place for you in the house first. And Squaky, Stop staring at Luz, she lives here now, I expect you to treat them with the same respect you treat me.” Lilith scolded. “King, keep an eye on him for a bit, would ya?” Luz turned and saw that the face had come out of the door in this tube-like shape, but was now slithering back into the door like a slinky made of flesh, being chased by the small demon.

“I thought their name was Ray?” Luz asked, still a little creeped out by the movement of that tube creature.

“Their name is whatever I call them, so they better be nice to you or they will be named ‘Mr. Wiggles’ for a week.” Lilith responded, pushing Luz along gently. “Now let's pick a room for you. I have a few rooms that are mostly storage rooms, But I can clean them easily for you.”

They began walking up the stairs, and came to a long hallway that was only lit by the sunlight peering in through the windows. There were various weapons hung about on the walls, ready to be picked up and swung at any time. There were 5 doors on the sides of this hallway, each neatly labeled “Junk Closet” with a number. Lilith stopped at closet number 5 and drew a circle with her finger. In a flash of blue fire, the words were replaced with “Luz’s space”

“I think this one will do nicely. It is the largest of the closets, and has a window, with a window bench. I love little window benches. You’ll have to pardon the mess for a bit. I promise I will move it as soon as I am able.” Lilith smiled at Luz, opening the door.

It was the most orderly “mess” Luz had ever seen. There were boxes stacked on the sides of the room, each labeled. There was a sealed box labeled “Circular books (?)”, an open box full of radios labeled “Horned boxes”, and an entire stack of boxes all labeled “Rings, not enchanted (yet)”. If this was her idea of a mess, what was clean like to her? Lilith wasn’t lying though, there was a window with a seat made of a red cushion.

“This is wonderful, but why are you doing this? We just met.” Luz asked, staring out the window. “I know why I’m excited to learn magic, but why are you being so nice to me?”

“Well you can’t stay out on your own. You aren’t from here, you wouldn’t know where to go, you’d probably be eaten in less than an hour-”

“I would not!” Luz interjected.

“You were here less than 10 minutes and a pixie almost ate your skin” Lilith pointed out, placing a sleeping bag on the ground, “And worst of all, you could be arrested for associating with me. And Warden Wrath isn't called “Wrath” for nothing.” Lilith finished, standing up.

“What exactly did you do to get that much of a reward for your capture?” Luz asked, turning in from the window.

“Nothing. And I don’t mean that as in ‘I didn’t break any laws’, because I have.” Lilith sighed. “As you stay here, you’ll find out more about how the Isles works, how it's governed and how its people are sorted. Personally I wanted nothing to do with that, so I did nothing. And so they couldn’t sort me, and to them, that's the most heinous crime of all. Individuality.”

“Sorted? What does that mean? Like do the authorities pick your significant other for you? Divorce rates must be high, if divorce is allowed at all.” Luz said, shaking their head.

Lilith giggled a little. “No, not like that. Like I said, you’ll find out as you stay here. Speaking of things we will find out. What exactly do you eat? I don't want to mess around with food and accidentally kill you. That wouldn’t be beneficial to either of us.” Lilith walked towards the door. “Come, lets go look at what I have for food and see what there is to see” 

And Luz went.

[mostlysignssomeportents]

Privacy Without Monopoly, EU edition

Tech monopoly apologists insist that there’s something exceptional about tech that makes it so concentrated: “network effects” (when a product gets better because more people use it, like a social media service).

They’re wrong.

Tech is concentrated because the Big Tech companies buy up or crush their nascent competitors — think of Facebook’s predatory acquisition of Instagram, which Zuckerberg admitted (in writing!) was driven by a desire to recapture the users who were leaving FB in droves.

Google’s scale is driven by acquisitions — Search and Gmail are Google’s only successful in-house products. Everything else, from Android to Youtube to their entire ad-tech stack, was once a standalone business that Google captured.

Monopolies extract monopoly rents — like those delivered by Googbook’s crooked ad-tech marketplaces, or Apple/Google’s 30% app shakedown — and use them to maintain their monopolies. Google gives Apple billions every year so it will be the default Ios and Safari search.

These are the same tactics that every monopolist uses — high-stakes moneyball that creates a “kill-zone” around the monopolist’s line of business that only a fool would try to enter. Tech DOES have network effects, but that’s not what’s behind tech monopolies.

We see monopolies in industries from bookselling to eyeglasses, accounting to cheerleading uniforms, pro wrestling to energy, beer to health insurance. These monopolies all follow Big Tech’s template of mobilizing monopoly rents to buy or crush all competition.

The differences between the anticompetitive tactics that monopolized these industries are largely cosmetic — swap out a few details and you might well be describing how John D Rockefeller and Standard Oil monopolized the oil markets in the late 19th and early 20th centuries.

Big Tech does have network effects, but these are actually a tool that can be used to dismantle monopolies, as well as maintaining them. Network effects are double-edged swords: if a service gets more valuable as users join, it also gets less valuable as users leave.

If you want to understand the anticompetitive structure of the tech industry, you’d be better off analyzing switching costs, not network effects. Switching costs are the things you have to give up when you leave a service behind.

If your customers, community, family members or annotated photos and other memories are locked up in Facebook’s walled garden (or if you’ve got money sunk in proprietary media or apps on Apple’s, etc), then the switching cost is losing access to all of that.

Here’s where tech really is different: tech has intrinsically low switching costs. Latent in all digital technology is the capacity to interoperate, to plug a new service into an old one, to run an old app inside a simulator (“runtime”).

There’s no good technical reason you can’t leave Facebook but take your treasured photos with you — and continue to exchange messages with the people you left behind.

True, Facebook has gone to extraordinary lengths to keep its switching costs high, deploying technical countermeasures to block interoperability. But these aren’t particularly effective. Lots of people have figured out how to reverse-engineer FB and plug new things into it.

Power Ventures created an app that aggregated your FB feed with feeds from rival services, giving you a single dashboard. NYU’s Ad Observer scraps the political ads FB shows you for analysis to check whether FB is enforcing its own paid political disinformation rules.

And there’s a whole constellation of third-party Whatsapp clients that add features FB has decided Whatsapp users don’t deserve, like the ability to block read-receipts or run multiple accounts on the same device.

https://www.eff.org/deeplinks/2020/03/african-whatsapp-modders-are-masters-worldwide-adversarial-interoperability

Most of these are technical successes, but they’re often legal failures. FB has used the monopoly rents it extracted to secure radical new laws and new interpretations of existing laws to make these tactics illegal.

Power Ventures was sued into oblivion. Ad Observer is fighting for its life. The Whatsapp mods are still going strong, but that may be down to the jurisdictions where they thrive — sub-Saharan Africa — where FB has less legal muscle.

With low switching costs, much of FB’s monopoly protection evaporates. Lots of people hate FB, and FB knows it. You’re on FB because your friends are there. Your friends are there because you’re there. You’ve taken each other hostage, and FB benefits.

With low switching costs, you could leave FB — but not your friends. The kill zone disappears. All we need is interoperability.

Enter the EU’s Digital Services Act and Digital Markets Act, proposed regulations to force interop on the biggest Big Tech players.

The EU has recognized that mandating interop can reduce switching costs, and reducing switching costs can weaken monopoly power.

Some critics (like me!) of the EU proposals say they don’t go far enough, asking for “full interop” for rival services.

Against these calls for broader interop come warnings about the privacy implications of forcing FB to open up its servers to rivals. It’s hard enough to keep FB from abusing its users’ privacy, how will we keep track of a constellation of services that can access user data?

Last Feb, Bennett Cyphers and I published “Privacy Without Monopoly,” for EFF, describing how interoperability can enhance privacy.

Interop means that users can choose services that have better privacy policies than Facebook or other incumbent platforms.

https://www.eff.org/wp/interoperability-and-privacy

But in theory, it means that users could choose worse services — services that have worse privacy policies, services that might be able to grab your friends’ data along with your own (say, the pictures you took of them and brought with you, or their private messages to you).

That’s why, in our paper, we say that interop mandates have to be backstopped by privacy rules — democratically accountable rules from lawmakers or regulators, not self-serving “privacy” limitations set by the Big Tech companies themselves.

For example, Facebook aggressively imports your address books when you sign up, to connect you to the people you know (this isn’t always a good experience — say, if your stalker has you in their address book and automatically gets “friended” with you).

If you try to take your address book with you when you quit, FB claims your contact list isn’t “yours” — it belongs to your contacts. To protect their privacy, FB has to block you from exporting the data — making it it much harder to establish social ties on a new service.

It’s not obvious who that contact info “belongs to” (if “belong to” is even the right way to talk about private information that implicates multiple people!).

But what is obvious is that Facebook can’t be trusted to make that call.

Not only has Facebook repeatedly disqualified itself from being trusted to defend its users’ privacy, but it also has a hopeless conflict of interest, because privacy claims can be used to raise switching costs and shore up its monopoly.

In our paper, Bennett and I say that these thorny questions should be resolved democratically, not in a corporate boardroom.

Now, as it happens, there’s a region where 500M people are protected by a broad, democratically enacted privacy law: Europe, home of the GDPR.

Today, in a new appendix to “Privacy Without Monopoly,” EFF has published “The GDPR, Privacy and Monopoly,” my analysis of how the GDPR makes interoperability safer from a privacy perspective.

https://www.eff.org/deeplinks/2021/06/gdpr-privacy-and-monopoly

Working with EFF’s Christoph Schmon and Bennett Cyphers, we develop a detailed analysis of the GDPR, and describe how the GDPR provides a lawful framework for resolving thorny questions about consent and blended title to data.

The GDPR itself seeks to promote interoperability; it’s right there in Recital 68: “data controllers should be encouraged to develop interoperable formats that enable data portability.” But loopholes in the rules have allowed dominant companies to stymie interop.

For years, Europeans have had the “right” to port their data, but nowhere to port that data to. The DMA closes the loopholes and dismantles the hurdles that kept switching costs high.

The GDPR’s consent/security/minimization framework sets out the parameters for any interoperability, meaning we don’t have to trust Facebook (or Google, or Amazon, or Apple) to decide when interop must be blocked “to defend users’ privacy” (and also shareholders’ profits).

Big Tech platforms already have consent mechanisms (and must continue to build them) to create the legal basis for processing user data. An interoperable FB could be a consent conduit, letting your friends decide when and whether you can take their data to a new service.

And the GDPR (not a tech executive) also determines when a new service meets the privacy standards needed for interop. It governs how that new service must handle user data, and it gives users a way to punish companies that break the rules.

Today, if you leave Facebook, your friends might not even notice. But in a world where FB is a consent conduit to manage your departure and resettlement, all your friends get signals about your departure — perhaps prompting them to consider whether they should go, too.

Far from prohibiting interop, the GDPR enables it, by creating an explicit privacy framework that is consistent across all services, both the old monopolies and the new co-ops, startups, public utilities, and other alternatives that interop would make possible.

Monopolies distort the world in two ways. The most obvious harm is to competition, choking out or buying out every alternative, so you have to live by whatever rules the monopolist sets.

But the other kind of harm is even worse: monopolists can use their political power to get away with terrible abuses.

Ad-tech concentration produced monopoly rents that blocked or weakened privacy law for decades, allowing for a grotesque degree of commercial surveillance.

We don’t want competition in surveillance.

Opening space for interop poses a legitimate risk of creating a contest to see who can violate your human rights most efficiently.

https://pluralistic.net/2021/06/08/leona-helmsley-was-a-pioneer/#monkeys-paw

Yet, it’s obvious that monopolists themselves shouldn’t get to decide where they should be subjected to competition and where they should be subjected to regulation. That’s a job for democratic institutions, not autocratic board-rooms.

Adding privacy regulation (strong privacy regulation, with a private right of action allowing users to sue companies for breaking the rules) to interop is how we resolve this conundrum, how we make sure we’re banning surveillance, rather than “democratizing” it.

[senlinyu]

Excited for your new fic! I’m curious: how do two writers collab? Do you take turns writing chapters? Do you write portions of the same chapter? How do you keep it feeling cohesive if you have different styles?

So... it took a couple false starts before @stargazing121 and I figured out a way to successfully collab. We both have fairly distinct writing styles and finding a way to make them mesh took some experimenting. Star’s very descriptive and wordy with lots of little jokes nested inside her bigger jokes, and does a very irreverent internal monologue when writing Draco POV. And I have a tendency towards a pretty terse almost Brutalist style of writing because of working on Manacled so early on as a writer, so I’ve been kind of slowly learning how to write more descriptively but it’s been a long and painful process.

We actually started talking about collabing all the way back in 2019, batted around a couple ideas, started a project and got it all plotted but then just struggled with writing cohesively as a team because our styles and even our way of thinking about scenes was so different. But we’re both very determined and don’t accept failure. So then we tried writing together again last year, attempting a one-shot and swapping off every 800 words and it just... didn’t work. The writing was very lifeless and trying to both improv a scene while copying someone else’s style and write your own just kind of killed the verve of the fic. So we shelved it.

Cordial Enemies is our 4th attempt. And it was actually supposed to be a one-shot but, nope. We’ve failed spectacularly on that front pretty early on. It took about two weeks and we were like, “this is a novel.” After all our bad luck with alternating, Star proposed alternating POV’s with the story and splitting up the writing by each of us taking one of the characters. So, Star writes the Draco POV scenes and the Social Snitcher, and I write Hermione’s POV scenes, and when we’re writing scenes where the characters are interacting, we actually live-write them in google docs. So we’ll lay out in chat the basic outline and then we’ll just assume the characters and write them, adjusting our descriptions of their actions depending on who’s POV it is, and then sometimes writing the gist of what kind of reply we want from the other character so that the other person can write it in the proper voice.

It really helped with getting a lot of the story down because we had places where we could work independently and places where we’re working very closely together and the process gave us a pretty good crash course in writing in each other’s character voices since we do have to tailor the characters behavior based on POV in the scene. So at this point, we’re both able to write scenes for each other and do a pretty smooth imitation of the other person’s characterization and voice for their character, and then the other person comes through and revises or smoothes or hams ups the scene.

It’s quite fun. It’s very much upended a lot of my writing habits and made me learn a style that I don’t think I would have been able to achieve on my own. And I think Star has learned that I am capable of overthinking character arcs until the cows come home and very patiently tries to endure it while I psychoanalyze everyone in our rom-com.