#I don’t do thanksgiving myself ofc but I’m thinking of you guys today

[shibaraki]

happy holidays, my friends!! I hope you all get to eat some gorgeous food and spend time with your loved ones today!!! if you don’t celebrate or have company come round to mine I’ll get the snacks and bevs out, let’s marathon studio ghibli ~(‾⌣‾~)

[infinite-insignia]

((I uh. made an edgy moodboard for myself. also a vent/rant under the cut.))

(( wasn’t exactly in a super angsty mood earlier but then I thought abt things and my brain went “man I really was a horrible person huh” so basically this is a representation of my edgy kin thoughts whenever they resurface. not even joking, some of the quotes are p accurate. especially the “killed my old self but the new me isn’t much better” one cause it reminds me of my death and honestly yeah. that was totally my doing. tryna be a better person in this life but I guess I can’t do that. I mean it didn’t work back then, why would it work now. tho if I give up on remembering my last life, I’d be giving up on what’s p much my purpose in this life. remember everything and use that knowledge to (try to) better myself before this human body gives out and this soul fades. cause I don’t think this soul’s gettin reincarnated again. not like I have another shot at remembering everything. but everyone tells me to stop focusing on the past. that it doesn’t define me now. but tbh? it kinda does at this point. the human life I’ve lived? yeah that was normal before I remembered what I was last time. and now it’s all I think abt--and to be told to stop thinking abt it? to be called delusional over it? to have people try and prove me wrong by telling me how I lived my life--or, worse, by saying it never even happened? it hurts me emotionally. like,,,deeply hurts me. I wanna talk to people abt things so I know someone’s listening. that someone cares enough to at least attempt to understand. even fake understanding would be enough cause I’d believe it was real. I’d have someone to talk to outside of tumblr, at least. sure, my psychologist knows a bit abt this stuff, but I only see her once every other week--and not this week. so I can’t talk to her. can’t talk to my mom cause she doesn’t understand and I know for a fact we’d end up arguing. she’s said it before--she wants her kid back. this messed-up delusional freak who brings past lives into their current one apparently isn’t her kid--but that’s who I am. that’s what I do. even among people like me, I feel alone. I can’t talk to anyone and it’s driving me nuts--but at the same time I’m terrified to talk to people because of the reactions they could have. I can talk abt it on here but to you guys it probably just seems like lame, delusional ranting. so I might as well shut up before I start to look like even more of a whiny bitch, huh. I say that despite knowing it’s hard to shut up once I start talking. ugh. man I went from 0 to 100 real quick in terms of bad moods. and it’s not even a bad mood? like I’m upset, yeah. but it doesn’t exactly feel like stress, it feels more like,,,emptiness. like I’ve dealt with this shit enough that I’ve figured there’s no point in stressing over what’s gonna happen every few days or so. my brain wants to mistake this emptiness for calmness--but I’m not calm. I’m not happy, I’m not content, I don’t even know what I’m feeling. I’m a freakshow brought into another life for god knows what reason. Phantom Ruby shouldn’t have had the power to reincarnate me but it somehow did. Ruby itself is here too somehow--it’s just super weak/faint. like,,,I can tell it’s there, but it can’t do much. I can’t even see it anymore or hear it out loud--it’s just like an inaudible voice, kinda like a thought that’s not actually coming from me. if that makes sense. probably doesn’t cause I’m just delusional apparently. oh well. can’t let my mom know I’m going through this cause we’d just argue. cant tell my sis cause she doesn’t wanna hear abt my kin bs. says its annoying cause I talk abt it too much. tho she also says it’s not an issue as long as I believe it and I’m not hurting anyone--and I’m not hurting people. not intentionally. I just wanna talk. have some sort of an outlet. but when most of my past life is full of war and murder and blood and stress and evil and destruction and everything else that is horrible, people are gonna judge me if I talk abt it. think I’m still some murderer today--which I’m not. definitely not. I regret the things I did. yet I’ve had someone tell me that ‘villains don’t feel regret’ and you wanna know what I did in response? pushed said person in a fit of anger. not a super strong push or anything, just enough to throw them off balance for a second. but like,,,you can’t tell me what I did or didn’t feel. sure I may not have regretted a whole bunch during the war, but afterwards? I was a walking ball of stress and regret trying to make a better name for myself but failing. waiting til the end of the planet, when I was the last living mobian, to do something abt it. and that something wasn’t pretty--it’s what caused me to move onto this current life. I get a lot of thoughts from various points in my last life, and those all cause a whole lot of emotions. yet, at the same time, I currently just feel like a void. an empty shell who feels the emotions but not the effects of them. the emotions exist but have no impact currently. tho that doesn’t make sense to you does it? wow. to think I was all happy yesterday over that follower milestone. ofc I have to go and ruin my own mood again since that’s all I’m good for apparently. might just go to bed early at this point. take the rest of the night off. nothing else to do. it’s either sleep or leave myself with my thoughts--the latter of which would only lead to more stress and/or empty feelings. anyway. I don’t want you guys worrying abt me. you can feel bad for me, try to make me feel better, but don’t worry. worrying abt me would be a waste of time. I’ll live. just going through another rough moment all of a sudden. but as long as I have a purpose in this current life, I plan to see it all the way through. meaning I won’t physically hurt myself or do anything stupid over this, so don’t worry. my physical health is just fine. mentally, not so sure. probably shouldn’t be saying not to worry cause now you’re gonna worry. whatever, I’ve been typing way too much. said more than I probably should have. probably look like an overreacting emo teen. but I’m just gonna go to bed and try not to let these thoughts get to me. tho my brain is most active right before falling asleep most nights so I doubt that’d work. gonna have to go to school tomorrow. no use in arguing, it makes everyone feel worse. it’s just gonna be a slow, crappy day. at least wednesday is a half day and then we get the rest of the week off for thanksgiving. not that we’re gonna be celebrating this year, we cancelled out plans cause my grandma’s sick and we usually go over to her place where she cooks thanksgiving dinner. but certain smells make her nauseous and the whole thing would be too much of a hassle, so we cancelled that this year. I’m kinda worried abt her. haven’t seen her in a little bit and she has another surgery in december. no idea what kind of surgery but she’s in her 70s and has been sick before so. idk. I do know I’m concerned for her and also myself. my own mental state is a wreck and idk what to do abt it. but for now I’m gonna go to bed. sorry for taking up so much of your time, assuming anyone actually read this whole thing.))

[theycallmebeccawrites]

Perfectly Imperfect: Chapter 7

With Tumblr holding my original writing blog @beccaheartschrisevans captive (aka flagged as explicit), I have made a secondary writing blog and may end up closing the other all together. In the meantime, I am reposting all of my stories on my new blog.

Pairing: Chris Evans x Wren Arnold (OFC)

Rating: PG-13

Warnings: n/a

Disclaimer: This work of fiction is not to be reposted, used or translated without my permission.

Perfectly Imperfect Masterlist | Chris & Wren Masterlist

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Thanksgiving 2020

The rest of October and most of November passed quickly for Chris and Addy and before they knew it, it was Thanksgiving Day. As per tradition, they arrived at his mom's house just in time for the Macy's Thanksgiving Day parade to begin.

Chris helped Addy put a cinnamon roll on a plate and then got her a sippy cup of milk before she joined her cousins in front of the TV. He quickly fixed his own plate and then took a seat next to his younger sister on the couch.

"I'm happy you guys are here this year," she said glancing at him with a smile.

"Me, too," he agreed.

He and Jessa had met when she'd been a wardrobe assistant on the first Avenger’s movie, but they hadn't really hit it off until they'd met again during the filming for Avengers: Age of Ultron. She had been dating someone at the time, but there had been something about her that had called to him. So, when she'd showed up to the Captain America: Civil War set single, he hadn't wasted a second before asking her out.

Considering they'd married within a year's time, things had developed pretty quickly for them and he had given up living on the East Coast when she'd taken a TV show job in Los Angeles. Said job had made it nearly impossible for them to travel from coast to coast for a short trip, especially with a toddler, so they'd spent the last three Thanksgivings out west, away from his family.

"Daddy! Look it's you!" Addy shouted excitedly, pointing at the Captain America on the TV.

"Inside voices, Addy," he chuckled as a Marvel float with most of the iconic characters on it crossed their screen. Glancing around the room and seeing his family members gathered together made it seem like the old days where the only thing missing was Wren and parents. "Mom, when are the Arnolds' getting here?"

Chris's eyes followed his mom's as she glanced at his brother and then followed his brother's eyes as they went to their older sister then back to their mom. Even his younger sister shifted awkwardly in her seat next to him. Clearly, they all knew something he didn't.

"The Arnolds' aren't coming today," his mom finally answered. "They went to spend the day with -" she glanced in kids’ direction and saw that they were looking at her. "- with their daughter."

Chris could feel his mom and siblings watching him as he processed to the news. He felt crushed. He'd spent the last two months working through the issues that had been a result of his relationship with Jessa, but also ones that, according to his therapist, stemmed back from when his parents divorced. Not to mention, the memories of Wren that had swirled around his head and made appearances in his therapy sessions. He had been looking forward getting a chance to talk to her and apologize to her for being the world's biggest asshole in her final days with him.

But clearly, those final days had caused more damage than he'd realized. It was clear to him now that Wren hated him and wanted nothing to do with him. Why else would she have changed her phone number? A fact he'd learned in late October when he'd tried to call her.

"I need coffee," he said, standing up. The kids had, thankfully, turned their attention back to the TV, but he didn't want to break down in front of them, especially not Addy. His little girl had the biggest heart and was prone to crying when she saw people around her crying.

Going into the kitchen, Chris poured himself a cup of coffee and then grabbed a bottle of whiskey from the cabinet and added a couple splashes to his coffee. He held onto the bottle a second longer than necessary, tempted to just drink it instead of his coffee, but shook off the thought. He screwed the lid back on and then headed for the stairs down to the basement, needing sometime alone to process everything.

At the start of the summer, Wren had been who she'd always been to him: his best friend in the whole world. Then she'd started helping with Addy and she'd quickly become the person he wanted to help him raise Addy. At the time, he hadn't picture anything more than a friendship with her, because that had been their role in each other’s life. But sometime during the summer, his feelings had gotten convoluted and even now, four months later, he still wasn't sure what his feelings for Wren were.

He loved her, obviously, but it wasn't like the love he had for his other friends. Not to mention that it was a totally different love than he'd had for his previous girlfriends, too. Just like the woman herself, his love for Wren was totally unique.

"I thought I'd find you down here," Scott said, coming down the stairs. "You ok?"

"She hates me, doesn't she?" Chris asked, staring down at his empty mug. He couldn't look at his brother's face for fear of what his expression would be.

"Wren? Hate you?" Scott let out a laugh so obnoxious Chris had to look up at him. "Hate is the last thing she feels about you."

"But you didn't see her face that day," Chris stated, not even having to close his eyes to see the broken expression that had been on Wren's face that last day. "And she didn't come today."

"You broke her heart, Chris," Scott said as he sat down on the couch. "She might have been mad at you, but the poor girl has been in love with your sorry ass since we were in high school."

"She's what?" Chris asked, dumbstruck. "No way. I would have known."

"You didn't," Scott said with a chuckle. "She and I got a little tipsy after her senior prom. I told her I was gay and she told me she was in love with you."

Chris shook his head in disbelief. He and Wren had been out of high school for twenty years and she hadn't said a word.

"It was never the time for her to tell you," Scott explained with a sigh. "I tried to get her to tell you before she left, but, well, you know what happened."

Chris nodded as guilt flooded his stomach. His therapist had theorized that his comments to Wren about never marrying again as well as his sudden need to get a vasectomy had been part of the subconscious changes in his feelings towards Wren. That theory, added to the knowledge that she'd been in love with him, explained why she had been so hurt and why she had fled so quickly.

"She's never coming back, is she?" he asked.

"I don't know," Scott replied. "But I think she deserves the chance to move on with her life if she can."

"Will you tell her I'm sorry about everything?" Chris asked.

"Chris, she cut us all out of her life," Scott said, slowly. "All we know is what her mom has told mom. Wren is settled and loves her new job."

The rest of the day was a blur for Chris as he tried to process all the information floating in his head. He wasn't sure if Scott's revelation was a help or a hindrance in the large scheme of things. If anything, it made his feelings for Wren even more confusing than they had been before.

Chris was still trying to process it all, a week later, when an unlisted number called him. In the past, he never would have answered a call from a restricted number, but knowing Wren was out there somewhere, he answered it quickly. To his dismay, it wasn't Wren, but to his complete and utter shock, it was Jessa.

"I'm sure you're wondering why I called you."

"A little," Chris lied through his teeth. After the way she had up and left the house after handing him the divorce and custody papers, including one in which she gave up her rights as Addy's mom, he had never expected to hear from her again.

"I'm engaged," she said, getting right to the point. "He just asked me tonight and I didn't want you to find out from someone else."

"You're engaged," he repeated in disbelief.

"I know it seems sudden," she said. "But I met him through a friend of a friend and he's amazing, Chris."

"Does he know you don't want kids?" he cut her off, his tone bitter.

"Yes," Jessa replied, quietly. "And he is of the same mind."

"And does he know about Addy?"

"Yes."

Nothing was said for a couple minutes as Chris let everything absorb. His ex-wife was engaged just shy of a year after asking him for a divorce that had blindsided him completely.

"How did we get here, Jessa?" he asked with a sigh. "I thought we were happy. I thought things were good."

"That's because you were happy, Chris," she said. "You had everything you'd ever wanted. A wife and a kid." Her voice cracked. "I tried, Chris. I tried really hard to be the wife you needed me to be and the mother to Addy that you wanted me to be, but I wasn't being true to myself."

"What do you mean?" Chris asked her. He vaguely recalled her saying that at the beginning of their conversation, a year ago, but he'd shut down when she'd told him she didn't want to be a mom. A part of him didn't want to have this conversation, but he knew that this was an important conversation that needed to happen.

"I never wanted to be a mom, Chris." She sighed. "Then I met you and every time a kid came to set or you spent time with your costars' kids, I knew you were meant to be a dad. I knew that the world wouldn't be right if Chris Evans never had babies of his own." She sniffed. "I told myself that you wanting kids would be enough and that I could be happy by making you happy.

"And I was happy, Chris. I swear to you, I was happy. I was thrilled when you proposed and we started planning the wedding. And yes, I was terrified when I found out I was pregnant just hours before my final dress fitting, but I knew how happy you would be when you found out. And my God, you were the happiest I've ever seen you that night.

"Then we had Adelaide and she was perfect and you were perfect. And I felt like I had lost myself. It sounds horrible, I know, but I wanted to be back at work, helping with costumes for the movie, but I was stuck in a rental house with a screaming baby. Then we went back to LA and it got better for a bit, but I didn't feel the pull to her like you did. Like you do.

"My friend recommended a therapist and I put off seeing her until the summer that Adelaide turned two. I wanted desperately for her to tell me that I would get over it and we could keep living the way we were, but the sessions made me realize that by putting your dreams in front of mind, I had stifled myself."

Silence fell between them again as Chris processed what she had told him. He felt guilty for never asking her if she wanted to have kids and guilty for not noticing that she was depressed. But he also knew, from many hours spent with his own therapist, that some of the blame was on her, too, for not speaking up and not telling him what was going on.

"Do you regret it all?" he asked her.

"Us being together? No. Chris, I fell in love with you hard and fast. We made a beautiful daughter and I know that one day, she and I will have to talk about my decision, but I hope that she will be able to understand in the end."

"Where did we go wrong?"

"Honestly, I think we got caught up in being in love and wanting to get married before we reached our late 30's. It didn't help that we were on a set with people constantly telling us how perfect we were for each other." She laughed. "God, you should have had Wren come down to visit. They would have taken one look at the two of you and wondered why you were even wasting your time with me when she was in your life."

"What do you mean?" Chris demanded. He took a deep breath and then said, "Sorry. It's just that Wren and I sort of had a falling out a few months back."

"Oh, Chris, I'm so sorry," Jessa replied, her voice sincere. "She was lovely and always nice to me whenever we were together. I suspected that -"

"That she was in love with me?" Chris cut in.

"Oh, I knew she was in love with you," Jessa stated. "But I trusted you enough that I knew you'd never cheat on me and she was so genuine that I never worried about the two of you being alone together. No, what I suspected was that you'd move back to Boston and settle down with her. What happened?"

The idea of talking to his ex-wife about his problems with Wren made Chris want to roll his eyes, but in the end, that was exactly what he did. It took nearly another hour, but everything that had been circling in his head with no sense of organization spilled out of his mouth as Jessa listened. She made a few comments and observations, but for the most part just remained quiet.

By the time, Chris hit the end button on his phone, the storm cloud of thoughts that had been roaming around his head had settled down. He had tried to talk everything through with his therapist, just the other day, but it hadn't worked as well as talking to Jessa had done. Neither had talking to his mom. But with Jessa's help, he had come to a realization that should have startled him, but it didn't.

He loved Lauren "Wren" Arnold, his best friend, and in a more than "just friends" way.

Knowing there was something else he had to do, Chris sent his agent a text, asking him to find the doctor in the USA with the most successful vasectomy reversals. Success being measured in the number of kids born after the reversal.

Chapter 8

Want to find me off tumblr? I'm @beccatheycallme on twitter. I also post my stories on AO3.

My tag list is always open, just let me know if you'd like to be added!

[ao3porcelainstorm]

poison ivy & stinging nettles 8

On Ao3

Pairing: Sherlock/OFC

Rated: M

Warnings: eventual violence, torture, swears, adult themes (no explicit smut)

Chapter 7 - Chapter 9

Chapter 8- Blood

~~~

Since meeting Sherlock, I’ve tried to remind myself that things aren’t always as they seem. Just when you think you have the bad guy, it turns out to be a ruse or a red-herring. It’s always someone you least expect, but are never surprised about in the end.

~~~

Sherlock wasn’t one to leave questions unresolved.

He requested the security footage from the hospital immediately after Amelia was discharged and he was back on his feet. The first viewing had been largely uneventful until he spied a coated figure entering Amelia’s room.

He waited until the figure returned to the hall, his eyes glued to his laptop screen. The timing lined up perfectly with when he and John were fumbling around the lab area. Barely five minutes had passed when the figure walked out of the room and stole a bold look at the security camera.

Sherlock’s stomach dropped and he snapped the laptop shut, practically tossing it onto the desk, as if the action would change what he’d just seen on the screen.

“I swear John, you’re going to get us banned from Tesco,” Amelia was complaining, entering the flat with a bundle of bags in her hands. “The coupon was expired.”

“Not all of us have limitless funds to spend willy-nilly,” the doctor countered. “It was a good deal and it was ridiculous they weren’t honoring it.”

“It was three dollars,” she sighed, setting the bags in the kitchen. Unbundling herself from her bundle of clothes, she looked over at Sherlock. “You look like you saw a ghost, you alright?"

Sherlock snapped his attention back at her, mechanically nodding his head. He grabbed his laptop, shuffling away to his bedroom, asking not to be disturbed.

“But we’re making curry-!” Amelia tried shouting after him, frowning when the door to his room slammed shut. “What’s got the bee in his bonnet?”

“He gets moody sometimes,” John shrugged it off, unpacking the groceries and stuffing them into the fridge and pantry. “I tend not to worry until he doesn’t leave the room for a few days.”

Amelia pursed her lips, unsure what to say. She’d seen plenty of his fits, but this seemed different. He looked unsettled, almost… dare she say it, scared.

“We’ll make sure there’s some extra,” she decided, trying to throw a little pep into the statement as she started digging out cooking utensils.

“Good luck with that,” John laughed, shaking his head.

~~~

“William Scott Sherlock Holmes,” Amelia stood outside the detective’s bedroom door, her hand on her hip, a plate of steaming curry and rice in the other. “If you just open the door and take the food, this would all be over.”

There was no response.

Sighing, she fidgeted with the lock. Of course it was far more complicated than the ones she’d grown up with, where one could shove a bobby pin into the hole and unlock the door.

“I’ll kick the door down,” she threatened with another knock.

“I’d like to see that, to be perfectly honest,” came Sherlock’s response.

“Just take your dinner so I can go back to my evening,” she sighed, leaning her head against the wooden door. “I have important things to do.”

The door opened, revealing an amused Sherlock in the doorway.

“Important things?” he asked, taking the plate and setting it on the bed behind him.

“It’s almost Thanksgiving,” she reminded him.

“We don’t do that here,” he replied dryly.

“Or whatever thing you all call it- Harvest Festival, semantics. It involves lots of food and people,” she rolled her eyes. “You were standing right next to me, remember? I guess my uncle wanted to do something with the family, and invited Mrs. Hudson… it’s next week and I still have to track down Molly and Greg to invite them, plus John’s giving me Mycroft’s number…”

“Do not invite him,” Sherlock shut the door, locking it for emphasis. Amelia heard his footfalls on the other side before he settled on the bed, the frame creaking slightly.

“I have a meeting with him tonight, you know?” she continued through the door. “About the case? Apparently there was another whistleblower who gave him my information.”

Silence.

“Though, I suspect, given from what John’s told me about him, he’s well aware of both my involvement and our activities, despite your best intentions,” she waited, listening for any movement.

More silence.

“The whistleblower was Jessica Reynolds,” Amelia paused, hearing a shift on the bed. “John and I talked to him on the phone yesterday, filling him in while you were getting permission for the security footage.”

The door opened abruptly again.

“You told him?” he asked, exasperated.

“Not everything, but I figured that would get you to open the door,” she grinned. “Did you want to come with me tonight? John is busy, going to a late show with the teacher. I’m a little nervous to go alone.”

“You should be,” Sherlock sighed. “He’s the absolute worst.”

“That’s a pretty high bar for you,” Amelia mused.

“He’s going to be condescending, it might be best if I go alone,” he suggested, but Amelia chuckled.

“He was a perfect gentleman over the phone,” she pointed out. “Besides, I live with you. I think I can handle an older version.”

“You have no idea what you’re getting yourself into,” Sherlock warned tersely.

“I’m leaving in an hour,” she smiled. “Don’t forget mittens and a hat. It’s cold out.”

~~~

“Subtle,” Amelia commented when a black town car pulled up outside Baker Street. “Is everything is ostentatious with him…?”

“Wait until you see the Diogenes Club,” Sherlock murmured, grabbing his coat and scarf, ushering Amelia out the door. The weather had taken a slight turn for the worst, the windy evening adding a bit of sleet once the sun had set.

“Good evening,” Anthea greeted, typing at her phone when the pair had settled into the backseat of the car.

“Anthea,” Sherlock greeted with a curt nod of his head. “Mycroft’s assistant.”

Amelia hummed in acknowledgement, watching the woman’s fingers type at rapid speed across the device.

It was terrifyingly impressive.

The drive to the Diogenes Club was spent mostly in silence, with Amelia occasionally looking down at her own phone to answer texts from Mrs. Hudson or Ruthie about the upcoming dinner.

“Anthea, does Mycroft have an opening in his schedule for this upcoming Sunday evening?” Amelia asked, elbowing Sherlock when he tried to protest. “We’re having a dinner and I know both Sherlock and Mrs. Hudson would love for him to join us.”

Amelia could have sworn she saw the tiniest smile on Anthea’s face, but the assistant remained professional, making a note and letting her know that she’d double check, to Sherlock’s horror.

“I hate you,” the detective muttered.

“Hate is a feeling of passion, don’t forget,” Amelia reminded him, patting his hand.

“We’re here,” Anthea broke contact with her phone to look at the large white building.

“You have to stay silent, unless you’re in one of the meeting rooms,” Sherlock explained as they were guided out of the car and through the club.

“You’re kidding me…?” Amelia asked, but fell silent when they entered the ornate space, noting that the large collection of members were all quietly attending to their business.

Anthea opened a large wooden door, waiting for the pair to move inside.

“Thank you Anthea,” Mycroft folded a book shut, moving from behind a large desk once the door had been closed. “Sherlock, I didn’t expect to see you this evening. What a pleasant surprise.”

“I wasn’t interested in letting you verbally attack my flatmate,” Sherlock shot back, dropping into one of the chair near a large fireplace with a huff.

“He’s in a mood today,” Amelia warned, pulling her gloves off and shaking Mycroft’s hand. “It’s a pleasure to finally meet you in person.”

“The pleasure is all mine,” he gestured to the seat next to Sherlock. “Please.”

Amelia shot Sherlock a look that said ‘behave’, while the detective rolled his eyes.

“She’s nervous,” Sherlock stated, earning a scowl from Amelia’s direction.

“This is all formalities,” Mycroft sat across from the pair, gesturing to the tea set in front of him. “Tea?”

“No thank-,” Amelia started but Sherlock helped himself.

“Americans,” he smirked toward his older brother.

“Did you bring the data in question?” he cut to the chase and Amelia fished through her bag, pulling out the thin external hard drive.

“Everything we have, including, the equations for the contaminated spores,” she passed it to him.

“But no cure?” he asked the pair, turning the thin memory drive over in his hands. “What a shame.”

“We’re working on it,” Sherlock cut in.

“I imagine you reviewed the hospital footage?” Mycroft asked. “What a miraculous turn of events.”

“I did,” Sherlock challenged, sitting up. “Did you?”

“Of course,” his brother’s gaze briefly flickered to Amelia, returning to Sherlock before she could even notice. “Dr. Brenner, how are you feeling?”

“Better, thank you,” Amelia replied. “A little frustrated that we haven’t fully worked out the ‘cure’, but I’m sure we’ll be able to figure something out once you’re able to access the more up to date records.”

“This should be more than enough to put that into action,” Mycroft promised, tucking the hard drive into his pocket. “Though I must admit, I’m disappointed, having heard such high praise of your skills.”

Amelia looked like she’d been caught off guard by the subtle shift in tone. Sherlock, instead, jumped in to try and at least try to save her dignity.

“Is that all?” Sherlock asked, standing up, pulling Amelia up with him. “Because we did have business to attend to this evening.”

“Aside from wallowing in that decrepit hole you call a home?” Mycroft chided back.

“The smell is almost gone,” Amelia insisted jokingly, trying to pull back to the formal conversation they’d begun with. Sherlock could see the nerves fading as she analyzed the exchange.

“Charming,” came Mycroft’s reply. “Though if you’re using the place as a make-shift lab, I would be concerned about cross contamination and the confidence of your calculations.”

Oh.

Amelia’s jaw clenched.

Sherlock kept his mouth shut, knowing full well the storm that was about to be unleashed.

“Excuse me?” Her voice raised slightly in pitch, still trying to maintain a polite demeanor. It was Amelia after all, and she was infamously friendly, even to those rude to her face.

But when someone challenged her research or intelligence?

“Did you work at the bodily fluid coated kitchen table or the dust covered desk in the living area?” He continued.

Sherlock knew his brother was confident he was poking a nerve. It didn’t take a genius to recognize the level of pride Amelia Brenner put into her work.

Still, it was amusing for Sherlock to watch. Mycroft had no idea the dangerous waters he was wading into.

It was phenomenal.

“If myself or your brother did work within Baker Street, do you really think us so stupid that we wouldn’t properly sanitize our workspace when dealing with components of quite literal life or death?” She challenged sharply, scowling at the government official.  “We both are quite well educated in the basics of scientific process, though I imagine that must be difficult to fully understand when you’ve probably never stepped into a lab.”

“I’ll just have to make sure my people can replicate the results,” he replied, unfazed by the lashing. “You’ll have to forgive my hesitation in fully trusting the research of a disgraced scientist and the daughter of a CEO whose company I’m now investigating for fraudulent medications.”

Sherlock saw dozens of emotions flash through Amelia’s expression at that.

Considering her options, she threw on a smile.

Oh. Oh.

“Let me know if you have any trouble with interpreting the equations,” she replied calmly. “There’s a lot of big numbers, and some of them even have letters, so it might be a bit confusing. After all, you seem to have trouble taking all variables into consideration before jumping to conclusions.”

She reached for her phone in her pocket, pretending to be surprised by something.

“Look at that,” she feigned an apologetic look. “Ruthie is calling. I have to take this outside. Very important stuff. She might not have the right sweet potato recipe.”

She left the room in a huff, accidentally leaving her scarf on the seat. Sherlock plucked it up, tucking it under is arm.

“For the record, Ruthie did not call,” Sherlock stated. “She just dislikes you.”

“I like her,” Mycroft confessed. “A bit emotional, but she isn’t dull. John is too accommodating sometimes, you need someone around with a solid head on their shoulders.”

“She’s solidly stubborn,” Sherlock replied. “Trust me, it’s exhausting.”

“I’ve heard she is quite keen in ensuring you make decisions that don’t involve self sacrifice.”

“As I said, exhausting,” he replied, moving toward the exit. “I should make sure she isn’t trying to set your car on fire.”

“I’ll see you on Sunday,” Mycroft called out with a final grin.

~~~

On the rid back to Baker Street, Amelia kept her opinions about Mycroft Holmes to herself.

She hadn’t decided if she truly disliked him, or if he had just been playing games with her (much like his younger brother, who thrived on coming up with new ways to make her lose her mind).

Sherlock had fallen back into his mood the duration of the ride. Answering any questions Amelia chimed toward him with nods or grunts.

Regardless of what John said, something was wrong, and she knew he wasn’t going to give it up unless she shook it out of him.

The town car came to a stop outside of Baker Street and Sherlock all but sprinted back to the apartment building before Amelia could get a word in. She looked apologetically at Anthea, who was back to her phone and didn’t notice.

Fortunately, the front door was locked, so that bought Amelia a little time to catch up with her friend.  When Amelia intercepted him, she caught him by the arm, standing in the middle of the living room with a concerned frown.

“Are you sure you’re okay?” she asked. “I mean, we don’t have to do anything this Sunday. I’m sure Ruthie would have no problem hosting.”

“What?” Sherlock frowned. “No, that's not what I’m- Sunday is fine.”

“What is it?” she released his hand, giving him permission to leave if he so choose. Her eyes searched his expression, trying to read any change he would allow her. “The hospital footage.”

It was more of a statement than a guess, but Amelia knew she’d hit the spot when he began denying it. It explained the strange exchange between Mycroft and Sherlock a few moments earlier.

“How bad?” she pressed, but stopped when she saw his face pulling into a sour expression. “I guess, you don’t have to tell me, I do trust you. It just doesn’t… you shouldn’t have to burden yourself with something on your own. It isn’t fair to you.”

He considered her words, or at least, that’s what Amelia could interpret as he stood with his shoulders back and his body language stiff.

“It wasn’t good,” he finally admitted. Amelia could feel his gaze sweeping over her, observing her, waiting for a reaction or another barrage of questions.

“We didn’t catch anything in the bloodwork that would have raised any red flags,” she reasoned, trying to remain optimistic. It was becoming more difficult these days. “Maybe… you’re overthinking it?”

“I’m not,” he looked miserable, an unusual state for the normally confident detective. He took a breath, turning toward his room in what Amelia assumed was an escape.

Instead, to her surprise, he returned with his laptop.

Setting it on the desk in the living room, he pressed play in the section he’d replayed hundreds of times that day.

Amelia hunched over the device, watching the graining footage shift slightly when a man with a familiar build walk confidently into her room with a bouquet of flowers. None of the nurses even batted an eyelid.

“John had just stepped out, hadn’t he?” she asked, and Sherlock nodded with a low noise of acknowledgement.

“Watch,” he pulled her focus back to the screen where the man was exiting the hospital room.

The man walked out of the room, stealing a look at the camera, a smirk playing at the edges of his lips.

“Do you know him?” Amelia asked quietly. She felt like her blood had chilled when she saw that familiar smile. That same smile that had dumped the near lethal spores in her lap not even two weeks previously.

“I do,” Sherlock looked to Amelia, waiting for her to fully process the information.

The last few seconds of the video continued on a loop on the screen.

“It’s same man from the train station,” she met his gaze. “Why would he…?”

“You wouldn’t have recognized him,” Sherlock’s voice was low, his attention returning to the computer screen. “And of course I should have dug deeper into the financial records, it would have been clear once I’d isolated individual transactions-”

“Who is he?” Amelia’s interrupted, her voice shaky. “He wasn’t in the shop when it burnt down…”

“He wouldn’t have been,” Sherlock assured her quietly. “He doesn’t work for people. He works for himself.”

“If that’s… who I think it is…?” she could feel the blood draining from her cheeks.

“Jim Moriarty,” Sherlock confirmed, pausing the screen when the infamous criminal looked up at the camera. “And for some reason, he changed his mind about killing you.”

Chapter 9

[orderuponthe99prettygrimmdiaries]

Happy (late) December 🎄 Beautiful Christmas, Christmas Beautiful (Rushers, you get me 😉)

Okay, was gonna get into this a bit earlier, but got distracted by lil baby Ocean. Man, Ocean Therapy is really the best thing to take my mind off things :’) 

Guess this will be my Welcome December post (super late, looks like I’m always late for everything now omg), wanted to do it earlier but #mebeingme :”) 

So today wasn’t exactly perfect, I mean, when has it ever? But gotta be positive and appreciative, right? So the great thing was I managed to catch up with a couple friends, one of them being my online friend who I’ve known almost 8 years now, which is crazy to think about it cos I guess I’ve known her longer than I know most people. Another friend reached out too, but decided not to meet up with them (yet) cos.. well, let’s just say “self care”. And another online friend, which I was so stressed out over because she went MIA for over a month. I freaked out for a while, but I reached out to her, and found out that her phone was dead. Huge sigh of relief. 

Kinda made a new friend on Tumblr too, well, maybe not, we spoke like once, but it was nice while it lasted. Got to see a couple nice response to my #8YearsOfBTR post :’) So thank you Rusher fam! Oh and ofc getting Kames on #KoffeeWithKendall, AMAZING. AND, James releasing a Christmas song too! 

OMG I just realized this is kinda becoming like a part 2 Thanksgiving post 😅 Guess the positivity and being thankful thing is really working out 😝 And I do have quite a lot to be thankful for! Like the epic Crisis on Earth X crossover, well, basically probably every single show I watch cos they all help me in a way, to keep my mind busy so I don’t spend my time overthinking. (Again, still haven’t gotten to my throwback post yet, probably soon, before 2018) Oh, and of course, this new game I found, Disney Magic Kingdoms. Totally obsessed with it, and a new event starting tonight, so YAY! 

Speaking of, HOW IS IT ALMOST 2018?! Gah, time really flies. 

So.. I’ve been talking about getting myself help, and a couple weeks back, I finally plucked up the courage to do make an appointment for counselling, but then I was told that they were moving to a new location so they couldn’t take in any newbies. At the moment, I was really upset, and I felt the person who rejected me didn’t exactly handle it the best way she could. I ended up looking up for alternatives and I found e-counselling, which I feel I might be more comfortable with (though maybe not as helpful in a way). I ended up talking to a guy who taught me about cognitive behaviour and stuff. It was quite helpful talking to someone. I haven’t exactly gone back to it, even though I’ve been feeling a bit on and off, especially with the dreams I’m having of him these couple days. I think I probably will get back to e-counselling soon, or at least going back to 7 Cups or something to talk to someone. 

And it’s been months but I still haven’t gotten back to finding a job. Sometimes I wonder if I’m not meant to find one yet and work on myself. But then again, I have rejected a couple because I didn’t feel comfortable with it.. But I guess I gotta step out of my comfort zone too.. And the other thing, I always preach that “everything happens for a reason”, but some things happen because of our choices, so is that all part of some “greater plan” too? Like making a wrong choice, will we still be brought back to our path? I’m guessing so, but then again, we Kendall also says sometimes opportunities come once in a lifetime, so what if some chances are gone and would never be back? 

Clearly I’m an overthinker on basically EVERYTHING, something I really need to work on. I wonder if it’s really possible to kind of shut off my thoughts, cos doesn’t really seem so. 

Okay, I’ve been rambling a little too much, so I guess that’s it for now. But it was really nice to let all my thoughts out. 

TGI(almost)F and happy holidays to all! 

Xx 

[ourfeelingsaloud-blog]

My Ex Boyfriend

June 5, 2017

I was walking back home today- from (let’s call her Brooke’s) house. It was 4 pm, but it might have been 2 am because my mind wandered into the dark depths of my heart that stimulated treacherous emotions that are often felt only at 2 am, when the morning is just beginning.

I have realized that I am an emotionally detached person. I don’t constantly need to be around people, I often do not start conversations, I don’t mind not speaking to a person for weeks at a time, and I often won’t notice if I’m growing apart from someone. But of course, there are those few people who do manage to wiggle themselves into my heart, and I’d do almost anything for, and I didn’t realize (let’s call him Kai) had been one of those people. He had effected me emotionally and mentally on such levels that I didn’t feel until I wasn’t talking to him on a daily basis anymore. I didn’t realize how effected I’d be by his lack of presence. I constantly think about him. 24/7. I was the one to let him go, but oh boy does it hurt. 

There are those moments in your life when you know something isn’t right. You don’t need logic because the feeling in your gut overwhelms you. I got this feeling in my gut that Kai didn’t feel right about our relationship anymore, but he never told me why. Nevertheless, I still told him goodnight everyday even thought he left me on read… every single night I didn’t say anything about it.

I am probably the most immature person that I know in my grade, and I realize now that I definitely was not ready for a relationship. I’m passive aggressive and petty, and I do not enjoy confrontation- most people don’t. I thought he never wanted to talk to me, but in reality he was just quieter that I realized (he once told me that he never texted first and he never asked people to hang out. even so, he should have put more effort in, and I should have too). When I was bothered by him not speaking to me, I didn’t text him first- I didn’t even tell him I was bothered by it. Instead I was like, “OH YA. I’M NOT GONNA SPEAK TO HIM FOR AN ENTIRE DAY,” or “I’LL RESPOND 15 MINUTES LATE TO HIS TEXT TO SHOW HIM HOW ANGRY I AM”, but of course he never got the hint BECAUSE I DIDN’T JUST TELL HIM LIKE A MATURE, NORMAL PERSON. The way I handled the situation wasn’t right at all. If I wanted to text him, I should have. If I had a problem with his lack of effort, I should have told him. MY lack of effort was shown by me not talking to him about the problems we had in our relationship. This also highlighted the full extend of my immaturity. I did not realize how much he liked me until after I contemplated on our relationship after we had broken up. I thought he was ignoring me all the time, not because it was HIM just being HIM, and I’m SO EXTREMELY angry at myself for it. (also ladies, if you want to text a boy DO IT. gender shouldn’t dictate who should initiate a conversation. Your mutual interest in each other and the need to talk to each other should.)

Instead of telling him what bothered me, I tried to change myself in order to adapt to his personality which is honestly the DUMBEST SHIT you can do. I ultimately destroyed the person I had spent YEARS building, and all the confidence that I had previously accumulated, dissipated because I was no longer who I wanted to be, I was who I thought he wanted me to be. And it didn’t even work out because, because I hated myself I became more moody and distant and more problems rose- which of course I didn’t speak to him about- and our relationship quickly spiraled downward into a world of chaos and problems we never addressed. He probably thought “… what the fuck is up with this girl” everyday he was with me and honestly I don’t blame him because 1) I would have thought the exact same thing in his position and 2) I am an immature FUCK.

We did tell each other that we loved one another. The moments when I felt I loved him the most was when we HAD time for each other- we never MADE time for each other. We would talk nonstop for hours during Thanksgiving break and Christmas break. We’d get to know each other and the more I listened about him, the more I fell for him. But during the regular school day, we didn’t even make an effort to text each other or hang out during lunch (that really bothered me. But did I do shit? no. Cuz I sucked at confrontation). Love isn’t supposed to be based off when you have time for each other, it should be never ending. Love should overcome time, because if you truly care for each other, you’ll find time to keep in contact. Lack of time is just an excuse to avoid talking to each other about problems that need to be addressed.

I’ve realized after this relationship, that I was, and I still am, an immature human being but I’ve grown since then. I’m definitely more straight forward. I’m trying very hard to put more effort into starting conversations and asking people to hang out instead of them always asking me because a relationship should have mutual effort; it should not by all means be one way- ***THAT IS NOT A RELATIONSHIP***. When I tell people who I am, I include all my flaws without self degrading myself in the process; I accept my flaws, and try to fix them not ignore them.

Since then, I’ve realized that the three foundations of a relationship are:

1. Effective communication:

a) Opening up: To date is to get to know your partner better. That doesn’t happen by having a purely physical relationship and expecting that to make up for your lack of talking to each other. People open up at different rates of course. It’s up to you to tell your partner that. You can’t expect them to know- they aren’t going to assume, they’re going to take your personality at face value. Open up about your flaws, your past, your future, your morals and your values. The more you realize who someone is, the more you can come to the conclusion of whether or not you want this person to be your partner or not.

b) Honesty: It’s as simple as telling your partner WHO YOU ARE AS A PERSON, not who they want you to be. You can’t pretend to be someone you’re not for the rest of your relationship- you’ll be more than miserable- and get this: your relationship won’t last because you’ve become someone else other than the person they originally fell in love with. 

c) Telling your partner (in a polite manner ofc) your problems and what you want from them. You can’t avoid problems in a relationship, it’s practically impossible. Instead of avoiding them, you have to trust that they’ll be willing to work those problems out. If they’re not willing after you’ve repeatedly tried and tried, then they’re not worth it at the moment.

2. Trust: Trust is  BIGBIG factor in a stable relationship. The fact of the matter is that many people will have friends who are of the opposite sex. And what can you do about it? Accept it. You have to realize that they’re in a relationship with you because they want YOU, not them. If you have a hard time trusting them, TELL them, don’t not say anything unless you know for a fact that you can change these trust issues of yours. Your partner should know that you don’t trust them so you two can work it out together.

3. Effort:

a) No one has time for a relationship. Everyone is busy getting their shit together. It’s up to you if you want a relationship, but if you do decide to get into one, it’s YOUR responsibility to cherish them. Show them you care for them when you have time. When you don’t have time, TELL THEM so they don’t think you’re ignoring them.

b) Personality definitely plays a role in having a successful relationship, but ultimately what makes or breaks the relationship is the amount of effort BOTH people put into making the relationship work happily. You can overcome the personality differences if you openly talk about them, and embrace them whole heartedly.

If someone you’re dating isn’t who you want them to be, don’t wait for them to POTENTIALLY change in the future because they may NOT change, and on top of that, they’re still the person you have problems and issues with NOW. Don’t wait for them. Move on, and if you’re supposed to be with each other, those feelings will come back in the future when you’ve both matured as people. And at the end of the day if it doesn’t work out because you can’t handle the flaws that they (still) have, it’s okay because you BOTH deserve to find people who make you happy. And hey, maybe you guys will be better as friends.

Love is patient, love is kind, and love will always find a way if you’re both willing to put in the effort your significant other deserves.

La fin

written by veronica wang