#dream diary: i had a dream today about my dad; about flats; and one of my wee past students

[shazleen]

Boston

[chaotic-bells]

🌟 dig a little deeper 🌟

My tag buddy Emma @herefortommo​ knows my addiction to tag games too well and tagged me for this fun one. It is indeed long, so read more after the thingy.

I’ll tag... @promisethatillnevertell and @cgg3913 - it’s totally fine if you don’t do it! this is a long, long one. 

1. do you prefer writing with a black pen or a blue pen?

blue pen

2. would you prefer to live in the country or in the city?

country

3. if you could learn a new skill, what would it be?

writing

4. do you drink your tea/coffee with sugar?

yes, how much will depend on the mood and what it is. 

5. what was your favorite book as a child?

I had two books of fables, like... massive books with over 100 fables each. I read *a lot* as a child, but these two were some of my favorites as a little kid. 

6. do you prefer baths or showers?

shower. really don’t like baths - i get suuuper bored and it feels cramped (probably because not only am I tall, but I am also fat)

7. if you could be a mythical creature, which one would you be?

vampire

8. paper or electronic books?

paper is nicer, but I don’t mind ebooks at all and it’s nice cause I have a huuuuge collection at all times.

9. what is your favorite item of clothing?

a sheer tiered black dress. dresses in general.

10. do you like your name? would you like to change it?

nah, it’s fine. when I was a kid I wanted to be called Luisa, which is what my dad wanted to name me and it was the name of my best friend. since I’ve started using nicknames more, i don’t mind so much.

11. who is a mentor to you?

don’t think I have one. @whatagreatproblemtohave was definitely unknowingly (or knowingly, possibly) my Tumblr mentor. but in life i was just the .... go and do it type.

12. would you like to be famous? if so, what for?

not particularly. a writer would be a cool kind of famous; mainly famous between fans, no one would recognize you all that much and you probably could still live a somewhat normal life.

13. are you a restless sleeper?

depends. i usually don’t remember dreaming, i fall asleep pretty much instantaneously when i want (people have said it’s almost freaky at how fast i fall asleep) and stay that way until my cats start headbutting me in the morning. But from time to time, usually when I’m stressed with something, i do remember my dreams and then it’s just tossing and turning the whole evening.

14. do you consider yourself to be a romantic person?

yes i am. but I also have a baggage where this was used against me, and it’s really hard for me to show that side anymore, so I usually come off as cold. 

15. which element best represents you?

earth

16. who do you want to be closer to?

some of the people i’ve met recently here. i think there are a lot of people here who share my world view and could be amazing real life friends. 

17. do you miss someone at the moment?

no one in particular. i miss the idea of someone though.

18. tell us about an early childhood memory.

when I was about 6, my friend and I were very bored and it was very warm. we stealthily stole a bunch of toilet paper rolls from our apartments, went down to the building’s playground, stuffed the paper in all the drains and turned on the hose. We flooded the playground really, really badly, but weren’t discovered until hours later when we went to our homes soaking wet from playing all day.  

19. what is the strangest thing you have eaten?

I don’t think it is strange - it is super tasty - but loads of people freak out? Chicken feet, neck and other weird bits of the chicken? My grandmother used to make them in a stew like way, and they get all melty and it’s delicious. Also ‘dobradinha’ which i don’t like at all, which is made out of  cow's flat white stomach lining. And cow’s tongue, which is probably the best part of the cow and people who have never eaten one cooked well really freak out? 

20. what are you most thankful for?

not sure how this is going to sound like, but... my own adaptability. i really can’t imagine where I would be right now if I wasn’t so good at handling life changes. I’m 31 and already had to start over with nothing to my name four times. 

21. do you like spicy food?

Not really. I mean, I do - but I like the spice level to be at a point where I can taste the dish. I don’t like when everything is so spicy you might as well just eat the pure pepper, which seems to be most dishes I see. Pepper can be super flavorful, but if all you’re feeling is the heat than that’s not enjoyable for me.

22. have you ever met someone famous?

yes, quite a few times. both my mom and my stepfather worked in TV and cinema (where they met) as a costume designer and sound engineer, and with that I met loads of people. 

23. do you keep a diary or journal?

tried many times, failed. I’m horrible with a routine.

24. do you prefer to use pen or pencil?

pen

25. what is your star sign?

capricorn

26. do you like your cereal crunchy or soggy?

crunchy

27. what would you want your legacy to be?

i don’t really care? i don’t feel like i need to leave my mark on the world.

28. do you like reading? What was the last book you read?

yes, a lot. i’ve been reading a LOT of fanfiction. Actual book was probably The Rosary Girls.

29. how do you show someone you love them?

spending time with them, sharing interests. it will very very rarely be a vocal thing.

30. do you like ice in your drinks?

depend on the drink. i prefer if the drink itself is cold.

31. what are you afraid of?

disappointing people. (and never seeing 1D back together). This is an unintentional RPDR reference, but that dialogue really spoke to my soul.

32. what is your favorite scent?

peppermint

33. do you address older people by their name or surname?

name. 

34. if money was not a factor, how would you live your life?

probably the same, except with less worry. instead of working on what I do now, I would spend my time volunteering for a cat shelter, or have my own. more time for my craft and sewing, would study something.

35. do you prefer swimming in pools or the ocean?

neither, if I am honest, but definitely swimming pools if i’m forced to chose.

36. what would you do if you found $50 in the ground?

try to find the owner. if I couldn’t, i would keep it. wallets are one thing - i’ve found a few before and I always call their bank and give them my contact (not the police, that doesn’t do anything), but pure cash? can’t trace that. i’ve lost money before, and i just hope whoever found it used it well. 

37. have you ever seen a shooting star? did you make a wish?

yes and yes. 

38. what is one thing you would want to teach your children?

empathy

39. if you had to have a tattoo, what would it be and where would you get it?

my next one is definitely going to be Louis’ smiley face. I actually dreamed about it this evening, it was a very anxious dream and apparently my subconscious really want me to get the smiley with a tiny little doodle anchor next to it? on my wrist? 

40. what can you hear now?

the fan of my computer screaming and my cats eating.

41. where do you feel the safest?

my bed

42. what is one thing you want to overcome/conquer?

is it too much to put my entire childhood here?

43. if you could travel back to any era, what would it be?

Woodstock. I would enjoy those days for about a week before going mad. I like my modern comforts.

44. what is your most used emoji?

🤣

45. describe yourself using one word.

impulsive

46. what do you regret the most?

nothing. i do the best i can at the situation I am in. yes, i would probably change stuff if i had the knowledge i have today, but that’s not regret. 

47. last movie you saw?

Mr. Right.

48. last tv show you watched?

Ru Paul Drag Race All Start season 5

49. invent a word and its meaning

out of 49 this is the only one I’ll skip. oversharing? no problem. creativity? erm... my brain just goes blank.

[thisdiscontentedwinter]

Baby Daddy - Chapter 24

You can read it here on AO3 or find the Tumblr Chapter Index here. 

It’s late—almost midnight—when Dad finally gets dropped home by Parrish, but Stiles is still awake. He’s showered, and changed into his pajamas, and he’s been lying on his bed wondering if he’ll ever get to sleep. When he hears Parrish’s cruiser pulling up, he pushes his comforter off him, wincing at his stinging hands, and trails downstairs in time to meet Dad at the front door.

“Come here, kid,” Dad says, his face drawn, and Stiles steps forward into his hug. It’s awkward with the crutches, but they make it work. “How are your hands?”

Stiles steps back and shows him the patchwork of Bandaids. “Okay. Nothing that needs stiches.”

Dad sags with relief.

“Are you okay?” Stiles asks.

“Getting there.”

“How about Parrish?” Stiles swallows. “You guys are good?”

“We’re on the same page,” Dad says, and Stiles thinks from his tone that he’s drawing a line in the sand here, and nothing is ever going to be said about what happened in that motel room ever again. Stiles can get behind that. He never would have thought his dad would be the kind of cop who would help cover up a murder, but, also, he’s having a hard time feeling morally conflicted about it. Kate Argent was a killer, and she deserved everything she got as far as Stiles is concerned. Then again, Stiles has never sworn an oath to uphold the law, has he?

Stiles hugs him again, and hopes that says more than his words could. “I can smell cigarettes on you, by the way. Don’t think I don’t know just because you’ve tried to drown yourself in air freshener.”

Dad gives a guilty start.

“You’re quitting.”

“It’s really not an everyday thing.”

“You’re quitting,” Stiles repeats. “I want you around for a lot more years yet, okay?”

“Yeah.” Dad rubs his back awkwardly. “Okay, kid. That sounds like a plan.”

“Good.” Stiles closes his eyes for a moment, and draws in a deep breath. “About Laura and the baby. I—”

“Kid,” Dad says. He leans back so he can look Stiles in the eye. “I’m sorry. I was hurt, and I took it out on you. I was hurt you felt you had to make that arrangement in the first place, that I’d failed you by putting you in that position, and I was hurt that I wouldn’t get a chance to know the baby. But whatever relationship you and Laura end up with, and you and the baby, that’s for you guys to figure out.”

“It is?” Stiles wrinkles his nose.

“Yeah.” Dad smiles. “Turns out I’ll get to be an honorary grandpa anyway. I don’t think we’re getting rid of the Hales any time soon, kid.”

Stiles feels warmth flood through him.

“You’re not,” Peter says, appearing from out of nowhere. For a guy who only a few hours ago got a bullet dug out of him with nothing but a pair of tweezers by Laura as Stiles watched, equally fascinated and grossed out, he looks incredibly chipper. “Now come and sit down so you don’t strain your knee. I’ve made you grilled cheese.”

Dad looks pleased. “I love grilled cheese.”

Peter rolls his eyes. “Of course you do.”

Grilled cheese. Stiles has fallen into some alternate dimension where his dad gives a werewolf the okay to kill someone—but only if he makes it look like suicide—and apparently they’re discussing grilled cheese. What the fuck? Like, Stiles has always been an overthinker, and it’s got him in a lot of shit in the past, but this is totally underthinking, right? What he’s seeing here? If anything should be overthought, isn’t it murder and police cover-ups?

And also babies and contracts and parental shit?

And also also what Derek said back at the motel? A mate bond? Stiles is pretty sure it saved his life today, but what the fuck is  it? Whatever it is, it feels big.

Stiles has way too much to think about, and he is totally off kilter right now.

But he’s alive, right? So he’s got that going for him.

Yeah.

He heads through to the kitchen to get himself a soda.

He’s got that going for him.

***

Stiles takes his soda upstairs. There’s no light coming from underneath the door of Laura and Derek’s room, but Stiles can hear the low murmur of their voices, so he leans on the door and knocks softly. “You guys awake still?”

“Come in, Stiles,” Laura says.

Stiles shuffles inside, and sets his soda down on the chest of drawers.

The room is in darkness, but there’s enough moonlight filtering through the window that he can still see well enough. Laura and Derek are in bed, and Laura is hogging all the blankets, leaving Derek stretched out beside her in his sweatpants and a tank top.

“Hey,” Stiles says, and the word has never felt so stupidly inadequate.

“Get in here,” Laura says, flinging her blankets back.

Well, fuck it, right?

Stiles climbs into bed between them, and wrestles for control of Laura’s pillow. She lets him win.

“I have questions,” he says at last.

Laura elbows him. “Of course you do.”

Stiles darts a glance at Derek, and catches him watching him back. “What’s a mate bond?”

“Do you want me to answer that, or is it something you want to talk to Derek about?” Laura asks.

“I mean, I guess you can give me the low down?” Stiles’s arm is pressed up against Derek. It feels nice. He shifts, looking for Derek’s hand and finding it. He laces their fingers together. Derek’s palm feels weird against all his Bandaids. “Then maybe me and Derek can figure out what we need to figure out from there.”

“Okay,” Laura says. “A mate bond is a type of pack bond that happens between mated pairs. It means that you’re very in tune with the other person, and that you can feel what they’re feeling, and they can feel what you’re feeling. It’s like any other bond though. If you nurture it, it gets stronger. If you reject it, it can break.”

“Okay, but I don’t even know what a pack bond is,” Stiles says. “Explain it like I’m five.”

“Pack bonds are like…” Laura is silent for a moment. “They’re like what holds us together and tells us we belong. They’re like…”

“They’re love,” Derek says softly. “Like how you and your dad love another. With a side order of low-grade empath ability.”

“There it is,” Stiles says. “This guy knows how to explain it like I’m five! Thank you, Derek.”

Laura snorts.

“And a mate bond is stronger than a pack bond?” Stiles asks curiously. “Because Derek used it to ask me where I was in a freaking dream!”

“It’s not stronger,” Laura says. “Not exactly. But Derek was able to use your mate bond, and your pack bond, and the baby’s blood bond. You’re the trifecta of bonds, Stiles, even if you’re not a werewolf.”

“Huh.” Stiles exhales slowly while he turns it all over in his brain, and no. No, none of it makes sense yet. But maybe it will, in the future, when Stiles has had a chance to work through what happened today first. “Thanks, by the way, for telling my dad he could still be a grandpa. I guess you’ve figuratively ripped that contract up, right?”

“Yeah.”

“Thanks. I’m still not ready to be a dad though, just so you know.”

Laura nudges him. “That’s totally fine, Stiles. I can see you as more of the cool uncle anyway.”

“Right?” Stiles laughs, his heart fluttering as he imagines it.

The cool uncle. Stiles will be the guy who turns up with the most obnoxious noise-making toys that he can find. He’ll be the guy who gets to take the kid to see all the fun movies, and do all the fun things. The mall Santa! Stiles is going to have a legitimate reason to line up to see the mall Santa! He’s going to be Uncle Stiles.

And a part of him can’t help imagining himself not just as Uncle Stiles because of his own connection to the baby, but also Uncle Stiles because he and Uncle Derek have a mate bond. Is a mate bond like being werewolf married?

Stiles reels that thought in before it leads him crazy places. He’s only known Derek for two days. He should go for at least a week before he’s writing their initials in a love heart on the inside cover of his school diary, right?

He clears his throat. “I think I can manage cool uncle status. Hey, does that make you my sister? I always kind of wanted a sister, so that’s cool.”

“It is cool,” Laura agrees.

“I never wanted to impregnate my sister though,” Stiles says. “That totally came out of left field.”

“Yep. Gross.” Laura throws the comforter back and climbs out of bed. “On that weird incestuous note, I’m going to sleep in your bed, Stiles. You can stay here. Goodnight.”

“Goodnight!”

Beside him, Derek shakes as he tries not to laugh.

***

The night draws on, and Stiles’s soda slowly turns warm and flat where he left it. He thinks of it once, regretfully, but he’s too comfortable to move. Well, to move far. Because somehow while he’s been lying here, he’s rolled towards Derek, and they’re sharing a pillow and their legs are tangled together, and it should feel incredibly awkward…but it doesn’t. Of all the crazy shit that’s happened in the last few days, this is the one thing that feels like it makes sense.

The moonlight gleams in Derek’s eyes, and he blinks.

Stiles resists the urge to raise his hand and trace Derek’s stubbly jaw—and then rethinks resisting the urge at all. Because why the hell shouldn’t he do it?

So he does it, drawing his fingertips along that surprisingly soft scruff, and is rewarded with a shy smile from Derek.

“I don’t really know what it means to be mates,” Stiles says at last. “I don’t know what sort of relationship you want, or even if you’re attracted to me physically—”

“I am,” Derek says.

Stiles feels the heat rise in his face. “Um, awesome. Because totally reciprocated here, no question. But I also think there’s a lot of stuff we need to work out, so what I’m saying is that I want to take this slow, you know? I don’t want to mess things up.”

“You wouldn’t.”

“See?” Stiles rubs his thumb along Derek’s jaw. “That just proves you don’t know a thing about me yet.”

Derek’s smile grows.

“Are you okay with taking it slow?”

“Yes.” Derek nods. “I’m okay with that.”

And Stiles thinks of Kate, and what she said back in the hotel, and how Derek was only sixteen, and he knows that Derek is dealing with a deeper pain than Stiles can even imagine. Stiles never wants to hurt him like he’s been hurt before. Stiles can be reckless and brash and thoughtless of other people’s feelings as he streamrolls right over them, but for Derek he can also be patient and careful and slow. Because whatever this thing is between them, it’s a warm glow inside of Stiles, and he wants to nurture it, and tend to it as gently as he can. Because there’s one thing he knows for certain, as sure as breathing, and it’s written in his heart now: Derek Hale is worth waiting for.

There will be lots of nights like this in the future, and there will be lots of days too, and Derek will have room in every single one of them. There will be school, and Dad, and pack, and a baby he gets to be an uncle to, and at the heart of it all there will be Derek.

And Stiles will mess up sometimes, and Derek will too, but those will just be stupid bumps on the road that won’t even matter, because it’s the journey that counts in the end. And the journey, Stiles thinks, will be beautiful.

He smiles as he traces his fingertips along the line of Derek’s jaw, and gently leans in to brush their mouths together.

It’s brief and soft, and barely a touch at all.

It’s their first kiss of thousands more to come.

It’s their first step on the road that is their lives together, and that warm glow inside Stiles’s chest burns bright and golden.

He leans back again. “Was that okay?”

“Yes, Stiles,” Derek whispers back to him. “That was perfect.”

Perfect.

Stiles likes the sound of that.

[dashinberlin]

The First Day of the Rest of My Life in Berlin

Welcome to my diary. I have been meaning to keep one of these for the whole of my twenties but I never got around to it. I’m currently 26 years old and today was the day that I moved to Berlin. It was a   decision i made one year and ten days ago on the 13th of November. IT came about because my dreams and career have been stagnating for a while [4 years] In London and I really wasn’t happy anymore, especially after moving back in with my dad because my previous residence was too full of dogshit and used needles. I got up at about 8 I think. Dean, my ex boyfriend and best friend came over about 9, and we spent the morning sorting out a bunch of my last belongings. It was all very frantic and rushed, but I left the house in a state my dad was relatively pleased with. 

We went to the post office first to mail some rubber to my crush in America. It was rubber from my passed away Sir. We were such a scene trying to fix the broken granny trolley full of stuff for dean with parcel tape in front of a busy post office.  We got on the tube. It was a nightmare trying to navigate with three things on wheeels and about 5 or 6 back packs or bags. It was really strange and busy the whole things. Given that I had given myself a year to plan all of this, the fantasy-land version of myself had dreamed that everything would have been packed up and put to bed months ago, however the real version of me new I would be a qausi ,but never ever complete disaster as usual. In my head I think of myself as being one on a team of rag tag misfit kits who save the day wearing inventive but destroyed outfits, and brandish effective yet fucking weird and unconventional looking weapons.  

So yeah we got to the airport and checked in, nearly burst into tears telling the lady on the desk i’d been planning this day for a year. my mate Bill works at heathrow and he came and joined us at the whetherspoons to see me off. When we’d drank and the time came for us to leave I decided now was the perfect time to record a video with Dean where we read off and performed our list of completely fucking weird and abstract foiles-es-deux language memes from the stickynotes app on my laptop. “blabble fish” “octoboyfriend” “Hatch distress call” and “pacman around the shop” were all memes that we re-enacted for this video. it was LOLZ. 

And then the time was upon us. We walked to the gate, and we said goodbye. I pretty much instantly burst into tears telling dean good bye and how much i loved him, whilst holding him.  We’ve been joined at the hip seeing each other at least two times a week for four years so it was a bit tough. We said we loved each other and were thankful for the times we had. I gave bill a “come here Bill!” and pulled him close. 

Got through security and put my head-phones on. Next song up on my list was Foals- Spanish Sahara. This track is a work of art. It progresses so slowly I had to skip the first minute to be able to skip to the part where you could actually say it was a beginning verse. I walked to my gate (A26) as the song progresses. ....  This whole time, the last year I knew was going to be year of closing doors behind me, some shut easy, some shut with the sound of broken hearts bittersweet wishes. When I decided to leave London it was like suddenly my 3d interaction with the city and all the people in it had become a massive one way track labyrinthine palace and at every step where i knew it was the last time i’d be in one place, or talk to one person, I neatly and quietly closed the door of this memory behind me. At first you’re zig zagging all over town shutting doors, but when it gets closer to things like, your leaving party, and your last ten tube rides, and then last time you see people you see every day, and then suddenly you’re listening to Spanish Sahara (a song about abandoning a foresaken place) and you’re looking through airport glass at the plane your about to board and you let out a great big silent scream because the fucking plane door now not only represents final closure of the palace of your life in London, all the hopes, failures dreams, tears, memories, laughs, blood, semen, and ambitions of this place. It staggeringly also carries the weight of being a portal to another dimension. At this point the plane ceases to be a plane, but instead is now a vessel that carries you from your neatly shut-down city of failed dreams, through time and space, to your future in a world that you really don’t know that much about, apart from that there was a big wall that cut it in half, and that it is currently the  stunning playground of Gay Angels, Neo Nazi Demons, and all those in between... oh and by the way, they’re all dancing to techno and fucking on the dancefloor. 

So I board the plane. I go to my seat I booked, its by a window at the very back. I’m sitting there with tears in my eyes and a woman turns around from the seat in front of me and asks in german if the lighter she has just found on the floor is mine. I tell her no its not, an eventually in german “Dass is nicht mein feuerzoig” and we strike up conversation. I tell her very quickly this is my moving flight to berlin that i’ve been planning on for one , and she’s instantly overwhelmed with compassionate amazement. Her name is Ingrid. She was super sweet to me, and told me numerous times that she had huge respect for me making this gigantic leap, and the guts it took to make it, and how much fun berlin would be, and how so many people never listen to their gut instinct. Over the cours of the flight she tells me over her story, how she lived in Berlin for 10 years, in Schoneberg no less, and how she thought she’d be happier becoming a sister in a convent, and how her dream led her astray, and how it had hurt to leave everything to start again and it not worked out. She explained how she worked in finance for a bit, and then a hospice which was a her true calling in life, and now how she was doing finance work again....and was very unfulfilled.  I told her more of my year,  how the dogshit needle house and years of london stagnation had made me so anxious sometimes at work I just wanted to sit there and cry and scream at the blank wall in front of my desk. And how something drastic needed to be done. I told her how I lost Michael in Berlin and how is death affected me, nd how I believe in magic and the amazing energy of the universe that will help and guide you if you are good, and you believe, and if you ask nicely and you yearn, and you work hard it will heLP YOU THE FUCK OUT. Ingrid supported all my additions with points of her own, and I think in that moment she new that like me, her life had become derailed from it’s path towards destiny and that it was time to get off of this path of pointlessness and back on one which makes her happy.  That vessel. The wormhole to another life. Was a magical place to be. The plane flew over a beautiful wash of white clouds the whole way to Germany, and their textures changed from bright sunshine to darkness very quickly as sunset speed was enhanced by the plane’s cruising speed of threehundredandX MPH. With the ground obscured by smokewaves and light switch of the earth being flicked off so quickly, it was the transition from one path to another was practically audible. It was like the closing palace was actually my universe collapsing into a singular hyper dense singularity, and this new state, one even smaller than an atom was where I was in the vessel in that moment. The changing of the sky and the earth around me was actually the visual signs that my new future was being rotated and recalibrated around me, so that when the door of that fucking plane opened, a new palace and a new universe and a new future would burst out in front of me, sprawling infinitely. The name of that future is Berlin. 

The plane lands. I get my bags with Ingrid. We take a selfie, proclaim the importance and sacred of our meeting and we move on.  In the cab ride back to my place the driver welcomes me to Berlin and we instantly start talking about the insane nightlife. By the end of the cab ride he has revealed to me that he has always wanted to go to berghain and i give him some ideas of he could look cool and get in. and he is very thankful. He also told me how when he’s having sex he loves speaking in english because he finds it super fucking hot...like seriously, he spoke so emphatically that from what i can tell, english sex is to him what bondage fisting is to me. 

I hang about for ten minutes waiting for Alis excited as fuck. When she arrives and opens the foor and screams “welcome to your new chapter!!” she looks slightly concerned at me for  second because a few seconds has passed now and I’m so fulll of amazement and awe at those words my mouth was a big jar with a small lid, and  filled with big word pickles and none of the eighty word pickeles could come out. . . So I just sort of jumped in the air and screamed a abit. We climbed about 7 flights of  stairs up to the flat with my HEAVY Fuckng bags where she let me in and showed me my new room. Which. just. oh. my god. It’s. just. so fucking big. I can’t even believe it. I have the best room in the house! It’s long and tall, you could get about two and a half of my old bedroom in brixton into it easily.  Suddenly I was here, The sparks of my new life palace constructing itself in front of me. All I could think was that it seemed so easy in a way.  Like I had asked, and yes i did work, and save, and put in love and money and effort, and it just appeared in front me and now I can just go walk over, and pick it up and hold it and it’s mine. MY DREAM IS MINE AND ITS COMING TRUE EVERY SECOND THAT PASSES. 

[geminicblue]

20 Galaxies: Legend in the Sky Chapter 7

Breckenridge was a few miles from Quarterhill's main tourist strip, and the Breckenridge girls rarely visited. The house mothers preferred museums and historical landmarks over the gaudy glory of Main Street. Ru's mother used to take Colleen to Main Street every once in a while. Colleen remembered the haunted houses the most, though they never scared her. She admired the props and wondered how much time it took to build them.

Main Street wasn't anything special, Ru said. Just ice cream shops and haunted houses and five different T-shirt stores all selling the same ten designs. Colleen silently argued she'd take an ice cream shop any day over Breckenridge. For once, she thought most of her housemates would agree.

Breckenridge itself was an attraction, though it didn't get as much traffic as Main Street or Tanager Park. It was a historical site with very limited tours. Most people saw the house only from the street. A stark iron-spear fence lined the property, taller than any person Colleen had met. The gate was wide, made of a labyrinth of flat, uneven curls. Mother Fontaine told Colleen it was designed with the leaves of a tree in mind. Colleen thought of it more as the inner workings of a lock.

She wished Mother Fontaine was still there. Most of the girls knew her as Laura; she had been the only house mother who let the girls call her by her first name. She was also the only one who ever tried to talk to Colleen without giving up. Mother Fontaine had bought Colleen her first paint set. The two of them spoke more often in pictures than in words.

Colleen shoved the memory away. Tears threatened when she thought too long of Mother Fontaine. Proper young ladies hold themselves with dignity, Mother Kendrick said. They don't blubber or whine.

The Breckenridge manor seemed miles away from the bottom of the hill, surrounded by towering oaks and maples. A few willows dragged their branches along the edges of a small pond. The manor was as wide as the high school gym, with lavender walls and navy shutters, the tall windows barred with white slats. Crew cut hedges and rosebushes wreathed the house. The porch had a railing like a ribbon of white lace, and a neat row of wicker chairs, all of which stood abandoned at the moment. Neatly abandoned. Proper young ladies do not leave their chairs facing every which way, Mother Kendrick said. The rest of the house had the same symmetry to it, as if Mother Kendrick had spoken to it personally.

Mother Grace herded the girls through the gate. She was a tall and narrow woman, whose physical presence was about as scant as her mental one. Colleen could have easily mistaken her for a figure on TV rather than someone actually standing next to her. Under her eyes the girls wandered about the property and lingered on the porch before her plaintive instructions finally nudged them all through the door. Colleen was last. Her feet crunched slowly on the glittering gravel path, her eyes dragged over the ants climbing through the porch boards, on the coral roses bobbling in the breeze. Sunlight grazed the stained glass on the front door and cast a wheel of color on the floor.

Mother Grace disappeared as soon as the group was in the entry hall. Colleen looked everywhere but at the other girls, at the marble floor, velvet furniture, the chandelier with crystals like melting icicles. Most of all, the stairs to the second floor. Until Mother Kendrick came to take roll, Colleen would have to hide, then make her escape to the stairs. Once she reached her room, she would be safe. Mostly.

"Aww, look who made it home. And all by herself, too."

Too late.

Ronnie Kale leaned in the doorway to the south wing, where only the house mothers were allowed. She was careful not to speak loud enough for her voice to carry to the next room. Colleen knew better than to acknowledge her, but there was nowhere else to go. The other girls were watching now, most with scorn, a few with pity.

Ronnie stepped in front of Colleen, her brown curls bouncing. She had a small face with huge eyes that made her look half her age, the perfect front for her snide, sharp tongue. Only Mother Kendrick seemed aware of Ronnie's true nature. "What'd you learn in school today? Numbers, or letters?"

Mutters fluttered in Colleen's ear. It was her own fault, bringing their attention on her with those supposed nightmares. Or maybe she really was scared of the dark. Maybe if she didn't have to have a room to herself, she wouldn't be such a crybaby. The whispers of those who believed Colleen's nightmares were worse. What if she dreams about me? What if she dreams about the house burning down? Don't let her see me.

"Hi, Colleen!"

She turned, surprised by a new voice. Misty was now in full Breckenridge uniform. She looked strange in it, like she was too tall for it and at the same time too thin. It draped off her like it would on a hanger. "I saw you have a Carmody."

Something shined in Misty's hand. In the many lights of the chandelier, the object seemed to gleam on its own. "I collect them. Maybe we can trade."

The room fell silent. Dozens of eyes locked on Misty.

"It's not a Carmody," Colleen said, voice tremulous. She brushed the tail of the dolphin with her fingertip. "My mother bought it for me when I was a baby."

"You still are a baby," Ronnie said.

That, on top of Misty's perplexed and disappointed look, sent Colleen scurrying for the nearest corner with tears brimming in her eyes. The only thing that kept the tears from falling was the peculiar expression that wiped out all emotion on Misty's face. Misty's pale eyes went unfocused, her lips open, as if she was on the verge of speaking, but to no one.

Ronnie put on her sweetest smile and put a hand on Misty's shoulder. Colleen was fairly certain that Ronnie was warning Misty not to make friends.

Misty's face froze over. She slapped Ronnie's hand away. Ronnie scowled, but then Misty replied.

Colleen didn't hear what was said, but all the girls in earshot flinched. Ronnie actually recoiled, wincing, as if she'd been slapped in the face instead of the hand. Colleen had never seen Ronnie afraid. Colleen liked it a lot less than she assumed she would.

Her stomach fluttered with Misty's eyes found her again. Misty had the same calculating expression Ru had when working on a tough math problem. Not malicious, but without empathy, either. By experience, Ronnie would have Misty seeing straight in a week. Ronnie was in charge of the house mothers, Quarterhill students were ignorant slobs, and the only one worse was Colleen Amundsen. Ronnie was at the other end of the room now. Contempt laced her voice, but her hands trembled. It did seem awfully cold in the hall.

Once the house mothers took attendance, Colleen sprinted for her room. Well, as close as she could to a sprint without being scolded about her manners, which was little more than a stiff, brisk walk. She hurried past the sunburn-pink walls and fluff-filled rooms without looking twice. Her room had not always been on the far end of the north wing. At a doctor's request, she had been moved. She had a vague, unpleasant memory of the doctor and Mother Fontaine asking questions about her nightmares, and what she remembered about her parents.

The lone room suited Colleen well. She minimized contact with her housemates anyway. Early in the morning, usually before the sun rose, she peered down the hall, looking for lights under the other doors. She went through supper at the very end of the long, lace-covered table with her eyes firmly fixed on her plate. Whether she liked or hated what was served to her, she ate as fast as she could without being upbraided for table manners. At least most of the girls ignored her there. It was hard to get away with anything under the hawk eyes of Mother Kendrick. Colleen didn't like being under her watch any more than being scrutinized by the girls her own age. She was always excused first. Whispers followed her up the stairs. There were no locks on the doors of the bedrooms; when Colleen wasn't the first upstairs, she found things missing. A picture of her parents, one of her diaries. She stopped writing those after she found Ronnie reading the entries aloud to her roommate. The only house mother who didn't act like the theft was Colleen's fault was Mother Fontaine.

For this reason, she kept the dolphin pendant around her neck at all times, even when she slept. Mother Kendrick made her take it off, afraid she'd choke to death in her sleep, but she put it back on after bed check was complete. She could not afford to lose it, especially if it turned out to be made of precious stone. It might be the only thing she had with enough worth to get her away from Quarterhill when she was old enough. Or when she escaped.

Her mind wandered from the World War I battle she was supposed to be studying. One summer night, she would pack all her things in her art supply bag. She would sneak some food away from the dinner table or kitchen, climb that tree on the west side of the property that leaned over the gate, and run as fast as she could before sunrise. Ru could lend her clothes so she wouldn't be running in her easily-recognized uniform. She brought the subject up at school once with Ru, and dropped it after her little brother overheard.

"First of all, Quarterhill's curfew is 11."

"Who says someone'll see her?" Ru shot back. "Besides, she's tall, they might think she's too old for curfew."

Jayson shrugged his sister off. "Second, there's no way you'll get out of Quarterhill before sunrise, even if it is kind of small. You might be able to hide in Tanager Park for a little while, if you don't think the Blue Star is coming to get you," he rolled his eyes, "but I bet that's the first place they'll look for you. Joe Ackerman's dad says that's where they find the most runaways."

The idea had already crumbled in Colleen's head, but Ru wasn't ready to give up. "Did Joe tell you that, or did you hear it from his dad?"

"His dad, when he was here on Career Day. A cop would know, right? Third, no one's going to buy a tourmaline necklace from a kid. They'll either think you stole it, try and find out where you came from and who your parents are, or they'll try to steal it from <i>you.</i>"

"How do you know?" Ru asked heatedly.

Jayson sighed. "Remember that time Randy broke a window on his dad's van?"

Colleen had only met Randy Fresnel a few times, and was happy for so few meetings. He seemed like a compressed spring ("That'd explain why he's so short," Ru said) ready to launch with his mouth or his fists.

Colleen's room was small and her possessions scant. A few carbon copies of her uniform hung in the closet, along with a puffy white parka and her pajamas, freshly cleaned. There was a set of plastic drawers, mostly full of things Ru's mother scavenged from the Amundsen home before everything was auctioned off. A picture of Colleen's parents and distant relatives, her great-grandfather's engineering textbook with brown pages and a crumbling leather cover, a tiny wooden pot Colleen liked to play with when she was younger, a tape of Colleen's mother playing violin. Ms. Hadley said Colleen's mother had been a songwriter, and the money that was still being made by those songs would pay for Colleen's entire stay at Breckenridge.

The room was different today. The floor had been covered by a plain yellow rug, but Colleen made a mess of it after the dream about Kelly. Her stomach still turned at the memory. At least the smell was gone, though it was replaced by the choking scent of sanitizer. All this she had expected. She was startled to find the other bed in the room occupied.

Three small, worn leather suitcases squashed the frilly comforter on the other bed. One case had its contents spewed across the bedspread, clothes, a pair of frayed, filthy sneakers, and a small makeup kit. The owner of that kit would have to learn to hide it, or it would end up in Mother Kendrick's contraband bin, never to be seen again.

"Oh, so you're my roommate?" Misty scoffed. "Good, I thought I'd end up with one of the annoying ones. Your name's Colleen, right?"

Misty resumed emptying her luggage. She handled her things in a strangely business-like manner, something Colleen would have expected from a house mother. Colleen's nerves buzzed as she sat down on her own bed. She rummaged through her bookbag, her long hair obscuring everything but the sandy carpet. She heard Misty walk to the closet and back. Metal hangers clanged softly as they were set on the bar.

"Why are the other girls afraid of you?" Misty asked suddenly.

Colleen's head jerked up. "Afraid of me?" she blurted.

"Yeah. Especially that girl, Ronnie."

"Um -- I don't think she's afraid. But I do have bad dreams sometimes. And my birthday's October 31st."

Misty gave a short, confused laugh. She had her eyes on her things, but Colleen couldn't help but feel watched. "That's it? Is 31 an unlucky number or something?"

Colleen stared in disbelief. Was Misty trying to make fun of her? "You don't know about Halloween?"

Misty flung her hands into the air. "I don't know about anything! Do you know how many times the house mothers yelled at me today? Over really petty stuff, too. Especially the old one."

"That's Mother Kendrick," Colleen said. "She's on second watch. She's here until ten every day."

"Does she let you have any fun? Or is that something 'proper young ladies' don't do, as she would say?"

Misty's voice flashed into an impersonation of Mother Kendrick's, near-perfect only ten times more cantankerous. Colleen giggled, despite her shock and nervousness that Mother Kendrick could have easily heard. Misty smirked at her. "Really, do you just study when you get home?"

"I like to draw."

Normally Colleen was hesitant about showing her works to the other girls, but Misty actually, genuinely seemed interested. She pulled out her sketchbook. The images within were mostly of outdoor scenery, different angles of the Breckenridge property with the house and birds and flowers she'd seen. Misty's face lit up as she shuffled through the pages. "These are so pretty! Could you draw me something, maybe?"

That was a common request, one Colleen usually turned down. "I could, maybe," she said quietly. "But you have to hide it from the other girls. They might rip it up."

Misty's silver eyes widened with shock. She almost seemed offended. "Why would they do that?"

Colleen's voice came out thin through a suddenly tight throat. "Ronnie did, anyway. The other girls just laugh at it. They, um - they tell me my artwork isn't any good. I'm not smart enough to make anything good. Maybe I never will be."

Misty smiled, a bright, warm smile. Colleen wondered why she assumed Misty wasn't capable of such a friendly face. "Oh come on! Don't say things like that. You're the nicest one here I've met so far, and you really do have talent. You should stand up for yourself more."

"You think I'm nice?" Colleen said. "Even after I wouldn't trade with you?"

Misty waved her hand dismissively. "I'd be mad if I found out it wasn't a Carmody, except maybe if yours is made of diamond. But then I'd just feel bad because yours is probably worth a lot more. Hey, want to see my favorite?"

She tucked her fingers into her collar and pulled on a string beneath. It must have been the thing she'd showed Colleen in the common room, a gray, silvery cloud pendant with an iridescent sparkle. Though it was easily the prettiest raincloud Colleen had seen, it was still sad. "A friend of mine back home gave it to me. It's the only one I'd never trade."

"It doesn't look like the other Carmody jewelry I've seen," Colleen said.

Misty's eyes looked beyond Colleen, her cheeks rosy. "It's not."

There was a quiet moment before Misty noticed Colleen's soft, questioning stare. Misty turned nearly as red as her hair. "Uh, anyway! Have you ever tried origami?"

Colleen let her question go unspoken. "Never heard of it."

A binder of colorful paper squares came out of Misty's suitcase. Misty chose a silver leaf, smoothed it out, and went to work on it. She folded, pressed, flipped, pulled hidden prongs from under the paper's umbrella-like folds, until a bird sprang to life out of the sharp corners and points. "It's a crane," Misty said. "You want to learn how to make one?"

A smile cracked Colleen's face. "Sure."

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[bravonovel]

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The Trap Of Ace

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The Trap Of Ace novel is a Romance story about Achilles Valencian and Emerald Hutton.

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I stared at the girl before me, and her nervous eyes behind those black rimmed glasses were also set on me. Tentatively, I tucked a strayed strand behind my ear and bit my lip. She mimicked. I blinked, so did she.

"You done with your staredown match with yourself, Em?" A huff came from behind me. "For God's sake! You're doing this for the last five minutes! You're creeping me out now!"

I glanced at my best friend through the mirror. With folded arms on her chest, sitting at the edge of my bed, she scowled at me.

My eyes went back to my reflection. "I don't know, Beth. Do you think he- he'll like my look?"

"After we spent two hours to doll you up? Yes, we think that he'll like your look. And won't reject you when you announce your undying love for him," said my other best friend, Casie, standing beside Beth.

Reject. The same word that has been haunting my dreams for years now. I've been waiting for this day for six years. The day he said those words to me. I've been waiting since.

And if he rejects me today… I don't know what I'd do.

"Will you bemy prince, Ace? I want to be your princess," I'd asked my brother's best friend when he gave me a Cinderella dress on my ninth birthday.

He laughed at my silly question, almost breaking my heart. But then when he saw my crestfallen face, he crouched down before me, looking into my turquoise eyes with his stormy grey. "You're my princess."

"Really?" I brightened up like a Christmas tree. "That means you will marry me?"

He bit his lip, his eyes lit up with amusement. "I'm sorry, Rosebud! But I can't."

"Why not?" I pouted.

"Because it's not the right time. You're still so young."

"Then when will be the right time?" I gazed up at him with so much hope.

"When you turn into a blooming rose from a rose bud."

I had waited till that day to bloom into a rose. I didn't know what that meant at that moment. But to remember and understand, I had written those words into my personal diary.

And Casie said at this age we were big enough to have a lover. Well she already had one at the age of fourteen, and is on her fourth at fifteen now.

I knew whatever Ace had said that day was because he didn't want to break a nine year old's naive heart. But I didn't care. I think I was ready to confess my feelings to him today. For real this time.

"Em, you're looking stunning! Though I preferred your long wavy hair. But it's alright, this also suits you," commented Beth.

I'd cut my waist length hair to my shoulder and tamed my wild waves straight. Just like Tess, my sister. She and my brother, Tobias, were twins. So obviously, Ace was her best friend too. And I'd once heard him say that he liked Tess's hair. So I turned my hair just like her. Though hers were blonde where mine was chestnut.

"Short hair is in fashion now. And Ace likes them short," I replied, checking my manicured nails. Just like Tess'.

Just like Ace preferred. All of his girlfriends were just like my sister. Beautiful and classy. Yes, I was jealous of them. But then they all were temporary. Once we'd be together, then there wouldn't be anyone else in his life other than me.

I blushed at the thought.

So I decided to be like them taking inspiration from my sister. Maybe he'd notice me then?

And today's whole makeover was the proof. Dressed like Tess, styled like Tess. I even sneaked her favorite perfume from her room.

"Isn't this dress too short, Casie?" Though I wanted to wear something like Tess, I was uncomfortable in them. Well she looked good in those tight little dresses. She had a good amount on both front and behind. Where I was flat in both ways. Well, a fifteen year old couldn't have any more.

"Is not! You're wearing that and that's final! Don't you want to make Ace notice you?" She raised her brow.

"Fine!" I said, taking a deep breath. Come on, Em! You can do this!

"Alright, let's go now! Otherwise we will miss your brother and sister's grand entry," she chirped, sauntering outside.

Today was my older siblings' nineteenth birthday. And every occasion at Hutton family was known to be grand. So no one wanted to miss this special event. Almost half of the renowned families were invited today.

When we all reached the hall, I kept fidgeting in my place. My hands were clammy and my chest thudded. I was nervous for tonight's meeting with Ace. And my too short dress made me more uncomfortable.

I spotted my dad and mom in the crowd. They stood close to each other, as always. They'd to be always by the hips. Even after twenty years of marriage, they were so madly in love with each other.

And that made me hope. If I and Ace would be like that someday...

......

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[callmemisscoconut]

Quiet Reflections

I’ve wanted to write for such a long time, but I was always worried about what the right thing to write about was. Turns out: I don’t have the right story. I may not even be a good writer. I also used to worry about who is going to read this. Is anyone even reading this? All I know is that sharing my story has always been somewhat liberating. So I’m dedicating this partly very personal, partly completely nonsensical and partly profound story of mine to the endless expanse of the internet. 

And if somewhere out there in the world wide web someone is reading this...I hope you walk a few steps with me and listen to my story.

My story begins with my earliest memory. I’m standing on our balcony in our flat in Frankfurt, holding on tight to the banister and waiting for my dad to come home from work. I can hear my mum in the kitchen, cooking up dinner and listening to some old Indian songs on a cassette. I remember the excitement of seeing my dad’s car and watching him. I remember wanting to shout out to him, to look up to me - but I I knew he wouldn’t hear me and my little voice. And I was too scared that someone else would hear me.

I guess I was always a quiet and shy little girl, hiding behind my mum whenever strangers wanted to talk to me and being so scared to even say a word. I’d rather be awkward and silent than say something irrelevant or unimportant - till today I sometimes feel that way. Growing up without siblings, protected by my mum and dad - I guess I never had to learn to have a voice. I loved being around people, though. I loved being with my family, who were big, noisy and always talking - sometimes not even hearing themselves. I always preferred listening and keeping my thoughts to myself. In fact, i was ashamed of being heard. But deep inside me I knew I wanted to break free and let out all those thoughts and words inside of me. 

As a little girl I would play and pretend to be this exciting, adventurous girl. I would explore the world in my mind and fantasize about being something like a superhero. I was a dreamer - I still am. It took me a long time to get out of my shell. A very long time. Kindergarden and school were fun and I was a good student. But I was known for being quiet and I missed so many chances at being better than I was because I just wouldn’t open my mouth.  Heck, even today it takes me a lot of courage to speak up for myself.

It took me a while to understand that I needed to express myself, and that my voice was important and needed to be heard.

So I turned to writing...to writing down all my thoughts, dreams and fears. Writing about my goals, about love and about all my experiences. The happiness, the sadness, the anger and the infatuations. 

I started my first diary in 1997. I had just learned to write and reading those first pages of that diary today makes me laugh. I wrote about my day, what I did, what I played with my Barbie dolls...and that I had secretly eaten ice cream without telling my mum. My diary turned into my safe place. The one thing that knew my deepest thoughts and secrets. My voice that wasn’t heard put into words.

Of course my mum had read my diary a couple of time. I remember getting into trouble when she found out about my first kiss with this dodgy guy I had met and who was way older than me at the time.

When she died my diary was the place I could express my loneliness and pain - when on the outside I had to be that strong 19-year-old girl, never expressing that heart-wrenching pain I felt of losing her. Never showing weakness...

Today I’ve found my voice and I’ve found that sharing my deepest thoughts with others has felt good. It’s felt like the right thing to do - event though I was scared as shit of all the reactions it would get and worried about it being too much in this world of social media, where most people share nothing but the perfection of their lives. It felt good to have someone else “read” me. 

And so here I am today, trying to give my story a space. I’ll end this first post on a beautiful quote I recently read on the steps in Shakespeare and Company book store in Paris:

I wish I could show you when you are lonely or in darkness the astonishing light of your own being.

On that note and inspired...let’s make this blog happen!

[orenbeval-blog]

Rosie Watson’s Diary - Tue.12/02/2030 (part 3)

Good thing about automatic tubes : they are never late and super reliable. Daddy told me once there used to actually be drivers inside the tubes and they would drive them along the tunnels. That sounds sooooooo XXth Century alike !

 At the practice, I kindly said hello to the young lady at the entrance desk (I don’t know, I have the feeling there is a new one like every three weeks or so… never understood why) and sat down in the waiting room. There was another person waiting. So I texted Irene, Molly, Harry and Sherlock.

18:01 - Hi Harry, I am fine. I am at Daddy’s practice to bring him back his phone.

18:03 - Hi Sherlock, I am fine. I just went home to collect my stuff. I will sleep at Molly’s. I took Daddy’s phone. I am at his practice to give it back to him. He slept at Harry’s last two nights. <3

18:05 – Molly, Hi ! I went home to get my stuff. I found Daddy’s phone. Am currently at his practice to give it back to him. See you later.

18:06 – I am at Daddy’s practice. I’ve got his phone. I don’t understand anything. Would you mind explaining ?

18:07 – Well, Junior good evening. Explaining what ?

18:08 – Moriarty, Magnusson and Morstan. And the fourth M.

18:09 – They’re dead. Period.

18:10 – Shall I ask my parents ?

18:12 – I wouldn’t suggest that, right now. 

18: 12 - What is this obsession all about ?

18:13 – I don’t know. I handed Sherlock some adoption forms and… suddenly all Daddy and him were talking about implied jumping from a roof, being dead, dismantling a mafia in Serbia, Jim Moriarty, my Mum being an assassin, Daddy being a drinker, Daddy being violent, Sherlock being shot… And NOBODY wants to give me any real explanation.

18:17 – I see.

18:17 – So ?

18:18 - Who is Jim Moriarty ?

18:19 - Ask the Lestrade bloke.

18:19 - I am asking you.

18:21 - Wrong person. I won’t say anything. Leave him alone, he is of no interest. Go read Angela Davis' work instead, put something usefull into your brain.

18:23 - He made Sherlock jump from a roof ?

18:24 - Christ Junior, don't go down there.

18:25 - I already am. I want to understand.

18:31 - He... liked your Sherlock Dad. Wanted to play with him. Made him jump from a roof, yes, just for fun. He was a bad guy. Really bad. You don’t wanna know.

18:32 – But WHY did Sherlock Jump ?

18:37 - To actually save the people he loved. Jim Moriarty wanted to “burn the heart out of him”. Just for fun. Almost managed. But failed in the very end. Because your parents are two. It's always two of them. So he died. Well I don't miss him. Nobody does. Let him be. He has done enough damage.

I didn’t get a chance to reply as suddenly Daddy was standing in front of me, in his white kittle, arms crossed, face serious. He looked grey and tired. So… THAT was Daddy without Sherlock for two days. I swallowed :

 “Hi.”

 “Hi.”

He bent over to kiss my forehead.

“I went home and found your phone on the table. I thought it would be easier if you had it. I read your text messages. You got some from Inspector Donovan and two from Greg.”

 He frowned while taking the phone : “Rosie…”

“I also wanted to see you.”

He looked at me and melted. His eyes went warm, his face sweetened up, he even smiled. He nodded and relaxed. I patched his wrist. He read the messages. He almost fell on the seat next to mine and slowly grabbed his head with a big sigh.

 I asked very carefully : “Daddy, what is this all about ?”

 He rose his gaze and looked at me between his fingers.

 “We…”

 “Who is Jim Moriarty ? Why did Sherlock jump from a roof ?”

 Daddy tensed.

“Of course you heard us on Saturday...”

I wanted to add like “well yes and on Friday, and on Thursday and on Wednesday and...” but I remained silent (maybe I should join a chess club or something... I find myself really good at strategic and tactical thinking...). However. He went on, voice thin and flat, breathing deeply, face and shoulders tensed. His scare seemed to cause him pain, he was slowly rubbing it without seeming to notice : “Jim Moriarty was an insane criminal who had decided he would play cat and mouse with Sherlock just to… not be bored. He was very dangerous. He had many people working for him. Powerful people.”

He seemed to search for some proper wording. GOD as if I was 6 or something... When he spoke again, there was some sort of thump growling under his stiff voice : “At some point, he managed to trap Sherlock, to make the world believe Sherlock was all fake, and to force him to fake his own suicide in jumping from Saint-Bart’s roof. I was there, I have seen it. -he swallowed- Well… Sherlock couldn’t tell me he was alive and so I grieved. I was… hardly alive for several months. And while Sherlock was travelling around the world to dismantle Moriarty’s net, I met your Mum and started to survive again. She helped me getting better. And… I proposed. And Sherlock suddenly was back. Not dead. It had been my very dream for two years, you know... I had wished so hard for him not being dead... But... well I am a docotor and a soldier, it can hardly get more sensible so... I was wishing but not believing, and... But... suddenly he just was there... But… I… had been mourning for two years, I couldn’t suddenly jump back to… this was… and anyway you wouldn’t be there if I had. And I therefore married your Mum. You have the pictures. Sherlock was my best man at that wedding. He made it...”

He closed his eyes. His voice felt like squeezed out of his chest, he seemed to... force himself into speaking. This was difficult, I could see it.

“He made it... -he swallowed hard, licked his lips, shut his eyes- quite clear how he was feeling towards me during his best man speech. Too late, of course. I was… so lost and confused. It’s hard to explain. Anger, regrets, fear… not a nice cocktail. Your Mum and Sherlock didn’t go along very well. And he had actually failed at dismantling Moriarty’s net. So it all restarted again. Eventually… your Mum got shot. I moved back to 221B and… well… Sherlock and I talked. Or maybe I was the only one to talk... who knows. I don’t.”

He opened his eyes and rose his gaze to met mine. He smiled : “You made us actually talk. And… thanks to you… we were able to find some balance and to build something… really worth it. We were able to leave the past behind and to turn to future.”

“So why is that past coming back ?”

“Because I think there are some key points we... omit to discuss. And once again… we will have to talk, both of us this time, because of you.”

He smiled. Quite shyly.

“I will go home tonight. Greg is right, Sherlock needs me. He might behave as the biggest dick on earth... but this is just Sherlock being afraid and in need for a hug. I know it but damn... I’m just human, I can’t always be available on demand when my husband suddenly freaks out for reasons I don’t get and which will take days to work out of him... I’m no fucking psychiatrist and... arf, however… now that he knows I have my phone back, he will turn insane if I don’t text. I have to go home. And, anyway, Harry’s couch is by no means an option for a third night.”

My eyes went big : “You left your phone home on purpose ?!”

He smiled again. A sad smile. He scratched his head and went slowly up. He looked so tired. So… old.

“I think it’s better if I stay at Molly’s”.

“Yeah, I think so. Two people might be difficult for him to handle right now.”

I took my bag, closed my coat and was stepping out when he called me back :

“Rosie, love… I am proud of you. I am a really proud Dad of a wonderfull daughter. Thank you for being who you are. Times are a bit… stormy right now but don’t worry. This ship will navigate safely back to harbour. I promise.”

I just nodded.

Harbour, harbour… meanwhile, I would have to investigate harder.

Today nothing happened. I told Yifan and Kiara about all this and they decided to get involved as well. Time for them to investigate too. Tonight I am still not going home. Daddy wrote something about not to worry but the flat (the ***flat***) needed some... cleaning. Sherlock and himslef would wait for me tomorrow evening. Molly knew and was not surprised when I showed up after school. Stella came over with some funny cupcakes and it was a nice evening after all. And Yifan is investigating on the internet. So... wait and see ! :)

[dead-asss]

Emoji Asks

🐰 what is one secret that you’ve never told anyone? i dont really have any that ive never told anyone ?

💗 if you could hug anyone, who would it be? my damn self. that bitch deserves a hug

🐹 what are some of your favourite Pokémon and why? Raikou ultimately, because the uniqueness and individuality it embodies. Sylveon for mostly same reasons

🌠 if you were in charge of the world, what would the world look like? gay probably

👀 what was the most recent vivid dream that you had? i havent dreamt recently enough for me to remember anything

☀️ what do you like the most about your best friend? she’s always willing to support me and give me answers 

😘 talk about your crush or partner: pass lol

💁 if someone was rude to you, would you be rude back? only if they were someone in which deserved it ?? 

🌟 what do you like about yourself? (must choose at least 3 things!): my style, my individuality, and my so-called “evolved” mentality

🐾 what are you scared of most? how will you overcome it? rejection and abandonment, and as i went through it recently, i overcome it by occupying myself with things that make me feel like im a valuable, worthwhile human being

🎁 what never fails to make you happy? listening to music i like or online shopping/browsing 

💙 what annoys you about some people? incompetence or inability to work well with others despite differences

😤 do you get angry easily? if youre someone i value then no but if youre someone i rarely talk to or dont know that well then yeah

🐇 what do you always daydream about? myself in the future, who i’ll be with and what i’ll be doing, whether im successful or not

🌻 if you could change 3 things about the world what would you change?  overall disputes with views on current issues, more quiet places, less stealing and robbery

✈️ what is your dream city and why? San Francisco or Los Angeles, mostly because every time I’ve visited each I feel a connection with the atmosphere there

☕️ talk about your ideal day: waking up at 7am, taking a shower, grabbing starbucks, drawing something amazing, watching a favorite movie, going shopping with my friends, and going to bed with comfy fluffy blankets

🌸 are you an introvert, ambivert or extrovert? ambivery but i lean towards extrovery mostly because im not too shy around anyone anymore

💧 when was the last time you cried? yesterday bc my stepmom stole 60$ from me (:

🎵 name 5 songs you love at the moment: Rooting for My Baby- Miley Cyrus, Dirty Sexy Money- The Struts, You Have a Hold on My Heat- RVR, and That’s What I Like- Bruno Mars

⚡️ if you had any superpower, what would it be and why? shape-shifting, because i find it interesting how you could be multiple things and change into others at will

💛 if you could talk to your younger self, what would you say? FOR THE LOVE OF GOD COME TO TERMS WITH YOUR SEXUALITY

💚 who are you jealous of and why? anyone who has rly good makeup and a lot of it because... pls

💎 which one would you rather have more of: intelligence, beauty, kindness, wealth or bravery? why? bravery, because thats something id say i lack a lot and probably wouldve helped me in the past 

🙊 what are you ashamed of? my family 

🌺 which languages do you know? which do you want to learn? i know english and spanish but learning french sounds ight

🍀 if you could be any fictional character’s best friend/lover, which fictional character would you be? Augustus Waters mostly bc he seemed so awesome to be around and just an overall good influence on mood

☁️ talk about your dream universe. basically something aesthetically out of vaporwave that sounds so cool ( i hate vaporwave music though please spare me)

💜 which acts of kindness are you going to do today?  i cleaned my house so there u go 

🐬 if you could transform into any animal/magical creature, what would you be and why? a rly fat orange cat, bc i love orange cats and being a fat lazy cat just sounds so awesome. no responsibilities (,:

🍄 talk about someone/something you really dislike: i fucking HATE when people think they can walk all over me or just say something to get me to shut up. like, honestly im stronger than that

😣 talk about some things that have been making you depressed/angry/anxious lately: my future, even though i daydream about it a lot it scares me to think it could all be something i never wanted or not something that will help me achieve my dream

🍪 what did you want to be as a kid, and what do you want to be now? i wanted to be a teacher up until middle school, but now i want to be some sort of artist (maybe work for cartoon network or produce designs for cartoon characters?)

🍰 what are some of your favourite sugary foods? i LOVE ice cream and chocolate covered pretzels. lollipops too 

🍑 what are you obsessed with? The Weeknd and what whole dark glowy aesthetic, but also the rosy, gold aesthetic. I also love sailor moon and some animes

💘 what happens to you when you’re stressed? i break down almost? not that badly, but i fear that ill never get the work done or what i have to do is too overwhelming 

😪 what are you sick of? being treated like nothing less than shit by my own family

🙀 are you an adrenaline seeker? in some ways yes but i wouldnt do certain things to feel adrenaline (sky diving, bungee jumping, rollercoasters)

💥 what are some unpopular opinions that you have? i like miley cyrus’ new music (some-most of it), cold is better than warm, ugly, conceptual art is better than pretty, flat art

☔️ would you consider yourself a good person? in most aspects yes, but i do see myself become a bad person at times 

😊 what do you like to do as hobbies? i mostly draw i guess

🎤 what’s the last song you hummed or sang by yourself? i dont believe you by p!nk

🐝 what’s your worst trait? how are you planning to improve it? i am the WORST at explaining or venting my feelings, mostly because theyre just hard to describe and when i do i feel them so strongly theres nothing to do but feel them rather than talk about them

🎨 what do you always doodle when you’re bored? eyes and little cats or characters

🐻 what’s stopping you from chasing your dreams? the fear of ruining my school career 

🌷 what’s your mbti personality and why do you think it suits you? enfp????? i think it perfectly describes me because im extroverted and feeling as heck

👑 who are your favourite celebrities and why? Dakota Blue Richards (shes beautiful and just all around a great person id like her to b my gf), Abel Tesfaye (The Weeknd, he’s such an awesome person and he makes even better music)

🍋 do you consider yourself an emotional person? ABSOLUTELY. i get super happy then super sad and i always am sympathetic and empathetic, i dont cry at movies/books tho ?

😔 what do you always do when you feel sad? does it help? i listen to sad music when im sad, and if i find a song that i actually like ill start listening to songs i like and i usually feel better

😌 what thoughts keep you going when you’re sad? that better things will come and that im a person that is so different from anyone else 

🌍 which country do you live in? america 

🐧 describe yourself in 3 words: emotional, generous, creative

💭 do you keep a diary? i did when i was younger but i feel like i should

💫 who inspires you? my friends 

👻 do you believe in ghosts and why? i somewhat do but not the possess, evil type. just roamin in the afterlife ??

🎀 what’s your fashion sense like? i dont have any specific taste but i do like color blocking and windbreakers, along w embroidered pants and boots

🎬 what are some of your favourite films? Big Eyes, Kill Bill Vol. 1+2, Abraham Lincoln: Vampire Hunter, and Burlesque 

🍦 what is one treasured childhood memory? my dad taking me to preschool one day and i had headphones on watching spongebob and i had a hot chocolate in my carseat cupholder. the life tbh

🐱 what’s your dream pet like? a big fat cat that just lays with me and is basically my partner in crime, or a huge dog that is playful and also fluffy

🐼 if you could meet anyone, who would it be? Nicki Minaj because I bet she’s so good to be around