#left unsaid

[lisbeth-kk]

Sherlock fandom

Things I Never Told You

I stand in front of your gravestone. It suits you. Polished. Elegant. Only your name, no dates. Ageless. Timeless. That’s how I’ll always remember you. 

You will never get grey hair. I can’t help wondering if you would’ve dyed it if you’d lived to experience it. 

Your fingers will never know arthritis. I can’t bear the thought of you being forced to discard your Stradivarius. 

The tightly fitted shirts and trousers will always fit you. Your belly will never soften, coerce you to size up.

Your flawless skin will remain so. No wrinkles will blemish parts of your body.

Never will your mesmerising eyes be framed by glasses. The sharp eyesight will forever pierce through souls and puzzles.

221B remains your home. Mrs H doesn’t allow anyone but me and Mycroft up there.

I think Billy misses you. He stopped talking to me after a week of ranting. Apparently, he didn’t like that I yelled at you. Do you know what he said before he got mute? 

“He had no other choice, for heaven’s sake!”

His voice is so similar to yours. 

I’ve written you a letter. There are things I never told you. Things I can’t bear to say out loud. Not even to your gravestone. I’ll leave it here.

Bye, Sherlock. I miss you. So much. 

***

Dear, Sherlock

Retrospect is a bitch, isn’t it. But so is fear. You always called me brave, remember. Well, you were wrong about that, Sherlock. I am a coward. If I had been brave, I would’ve said what I’m about to write, to your face instead of placing this letter on your grave where you won’t be able to read it.

I love you, Sherlock Holmes. Not in the platonic-best friends-flatmates kind of way. The other way. The opposite way. The way everyone assumed from the very first day we met. The I-am-in-love-with-you kind of way. 

You were so beautiful that night at Angelo’s. Took my breath away, is what you did, and I couldn’t help myself. I had to know if there was someone special in your life. God, I still cringe thinking about it! You were so gracious about it all. Let me down so gently, totally unprecedented by your normal standards. That’s when I knew you had the biggest heart. You had every right to be rude, to brush me off. We’d only known each other for hours for Christ’s sake!

Well, that’s what I’ve wanted to say for the longest time. I don’t know if you changed your mind after that night. But your brother, Greg, and our landlady seem to agree that I’ve made an impact on you. Mycroft was particularly bemused when he learned that you actually listened to me and tried not to be too harsh with witnesses and clients.

I don’t know, Sherlock. I’m still grieving. Coherency was more your thing than mine anyway. It doesn’t matter. You’re dead and won’t read this. It has more to do with my sanity at this point. The words needed saying, and I don’t want anyone else to read them. I’m the only one who comes here, so it will be safe until tomorrow. 

Forever yours. John

Tears are trickling down my cheeks when I’ve read the letter.

“Oh, John,” I whisper. “I am so sorry.”

***

When I return the next day, the letter is gone.

----------------------------------------------------------------------

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[bloominginsilence]

I was pathetically in love with you.

And you were casually loving me.

[howifeltabouthim]

His hand eclipses mine, and I pull it across the table to press a kiss to the back of it, the only way I can keep myself from blurting I love you. The tender expression that dawns across his severe features makes me think he heard the words all the same.

Emily Henry, from Great Big Beautiful Life

[djkerr]

BTS of NCIS 21x04 Left Unsaid directed by Daniela Ruah

~ From the DVD featurette "Ruah’s Rules: Directing NCIS and NCIS Hawaii"

🎥 @danniruahfans IG

[classycookiexo]

[darkhorse-javert]

@flashfictionfridayofficial Conclave Film Canon

After the Accepto, after the white smoke, it's a whirlwind. There's the homages, the presentation on the Balcony, the (admittedly winning) speech, the Urbi et Orbi.

Being confirmed in his place as Secretary of State, with a nod and a smile that for all it's apparent politeness leaves him with a pit in his stomach. the inagural Mass, the Inagural Sunday Mass.

The Inauguration, and the acceptance of the Fisherman's ring, itself. The first few days properly back in the Secretray of State's office, shaking the methaphorical dust off matters, communicating with Monsegnior Morales; who has made the Jump from Secretary of Prefect, settling into something of the working relationship.

All in all, it's a week after the Inaguation when he realises he hasn't seen Thomas around in the Apostolic Palace, not at the many meetings, or at the General gatherings, or even in the Corridors. There have been no carefully spelt texts either. Well, he must be exhausted after everything... and we didn't part on good terms.

"Hold the fort for me, Michel," he says to his Secretary "I'm going over to Deanary Office."

"Yes Eminence."

It's a fair step, as some would say, from the Secretary of State to the Deanary of Cardinals. Long enough to be drawn into his own thoughts. To remember too clearly, far too clearly, the words he'd flung at Thomas that night in the Corridor of the Casa Santa Marta, throwing the other man's struggles (which he'd been told in confidence, with the expectation from the Late Holy Father to help the man) at his face. Gouging at him, accusing him of ambition, and pride.

Which was more suited to myself, he admits, I saw my own faults and projected them on another, and then let Trembley make me such an offer, and fail to refuse.

The Swiss Guard at the door of the Deanery nods to him as he steps up and knocks on the door.

It opens at his knock, and one of the many sub Secretaries looks up "Eminence Bellini, how can we help?"

He looks beyond the desk to the main office door "Is Dean Lawrence free?"

The secretary frowns, seemign honestly puzzled "I have no knowledge where or what the Emeritus Dean is doing at the moment, Eminence Bellini."

He stares at the man What? "Emeritus Dean?" He repeats. Lawrence has resigned, when?

"Yes Eminence," the secrtetary takes in his shock "You were not aware Cardinal Lawrence had resigned? Cardinal Decon Santini is acting Dean at the moment,"

"I was not. When was this?"

"I understand he tendered his Resignation as soon as His Holiness had been appointed, although I think he stayed as long as the Inauguration."

It had been Santini who had placed the Fisherman's Ring, Aldo remembers now. He'd noted the departure from tradition, but assumed it was a gift for the Senior Cardinal, a final significant act.

He tries to think back, had he seen Lawrence in the numbers there watching. I was at the front, and I didn't look back behind me. He could have been.

"Eminence, are you alright?"

"Fine," he answers mechanically "Thank you for your help." He ignores the farewells of the Archbishop, turns and leaves. Further down the corridor he stops and presses his fingers to his forehead in a pinch

Thomas resigned! If he wasn't Dean, he wouldn't be at his apartment... Where? Where to go next?

The Casa.

He tries not to actively run the distance across the Vatican, tries to keep it to an active but natural walk, compromises to a swift pace of 'Hastening'.

The concrete building rises before him, he strides in and heads down, not up, to the Offices.

He knocks on Sister Agnes door, sharply, and she calla for him to enter within moments. She had been at her computer, had clearly turned her chair to see her visitor, rises quickly when she sees the rank of who has entered.

"Sister Agnes, is Dean -" He quickly corrects himself, "Cardinal Lawrence still in residence?"

She looks at him, impassive, calm. "No Eminence, Dean Emeritus Lawrence left the Casa on last Tuesday evening."

Last Tuesday, the day of the Inauguration.

"Do you know where he was going?"

"I was not privy to the Emeritus' private decisions, Eminence" she gives a partially Gallia little shrug "I assume he had made plans, he had wanted to resign."

"Did he leave a forwarding address, incase he left things behind?"

She shakes her head, never breaking eye-contact. "Not with me, Eminence, perhaps at the Consistory."

He nods his thanks and leaves. Her eyes brand his back all the way down the corridor out into the Gardens.

Gone, Gone. Gone a week and I never noticed. He never said Goodbye.

And did you deserve that honour for the sort of friend you were in his hour of need, Aldo Luciano Bellini, the latter words sound suspiciously as if spoken by the Late Holy Father.

He sits down heavily on a stone seat, tips his head into his hands. Thomas, Thomas, I was a fool, I was so Cruel.

I never got to say Sorry

[inkidle]

Left Unsaid

How long since time slipped past?

I don't remember anymore

Are you happy there, my dear?

I hope you are...

Even if out of my reach

You feel no pain anymore

No more grief

No more sacrifices

Rest, my dear

Because I'm here

In your stead

.

Written on 12 April 2025.

I'm still writing! How is everyone? I hope you guys well wherever you are. Thanks for your time reading this poem!

[seekers-who-are-lovers]

The lament of Yukimasa

Written for @flashfictionfridayofficial with the prompt #FFF307 ~ left unsaid. I got inspired of this fan art that I saw on X Twit. The artist made it in 2021, long before the anime had begun. It was the image of an alive Lady Fuyuki and her son Yukiya playing Go, a strategic game for two people. I thought, what if Yukimasa were there watching them. The rest of this fic was canon divergence except for a few things that we knew via the anime. No one talks about Yukimasa. I would like to know him better.

—

Fandom: Yatagarasu: The Raven Does Not Choose Its Master

Characters : Yukimasa, mentions of Yukiya, Lady Fuyuki, Lady Azusa and Wakamiya/Nazukihiko

Word count: 920

—

“Is that your final move?” An older woman asked her opponent questioning him gently about his decision. The one who played against her was a boy who was 15 years of age and quite resembled her physically. He wore the baby blue uniform of a lower official in the imperial court. His longish auburn hair nestled behind his head. Tied in a golden elastic band that glistened when the sunlight hit it. The woman too had the same hair colour that almost reached her waist. It was loose and shining beautifully. Her cheeks looked healthy. She was smiling at him, carefully examining the serious mien in front of her. She raised her left arm to touch his face but stopped herself. The two were deeply engaged in Go. In one brief moment, the familiar face of his second wife, Lady Azusa, appeared next to them.

“This is your first family.” She said smiling at them proudly. Then the other two followed to focus their attention to him and began to laugh. The quiet domestic scenes abruptly changed into something sinister. The tableau made Yukimasa fearful. The sound of their loud voices as if mocking him was deafening that he covered his ears and closed his eyes at once.

Yukimasa gasped. It woke him up. A dream then. Only a dream. It felt so real he thought it was happening in real time. Sitting upright, he looked around and was thankful that his sharp breathing didn’t wake up his wife. Catching his breath prompted him to clutch at his chest. His gaze turned to the windows where the skies were clear, suddenly azure. Dawn was coming. He rose from his feet and treaded lightly toward the kitchen.

What a strange thing to dream about his first and second wives conniving with his second son against him.

He scratched his head.

In his study taking his teapot and a cup, Yukimasa began to check up on the paperwork he abandoned last night. He searched for his ink only to accidentally bump against a box and spilling several black and white shiny flat stones that were kept inside the opened pouch. He also found a couple more board games he used to play with his children.

So this is where Azusa hides them.

One of them was a Go board, which made of Narra wood, he got as a birthday gift from his father. Clearing his table from the paper clutter, he laid out the board and lined up the Go stones from both corners.

Yukimasa was not a good Go player. Yes, he understood the intricacies of this game but he preferred athleticism where he could run around and show his physical stamina. No doubt that his three sons—Yukima, Yukiya and Yukichi— inherited this love for playing Kemari for a short period of time.

He thought of his first wife Fuyuki. She excelled in every board game. Even with the military tactics game, she would never shy away from a high-ranking soldier to show her abilities.

After their marriage it was customary that she lived in Taruhi as the mistress of the mansion, away from her family. She drove away her ladies-in-waiting, who wished her dead, but playing board games were the only things that made her content. Especially if she were able to entice him to play against her. There were occasions where it became a foreplay that ended disastrously for both parties due to her frail body and tepid mouth. It made him feel less than a man.

He surmised that Yukiya, his and Fuyuki’s only child, might think he wished for the same thing: Fuyuki dying. That wasn’t true at all. He loved Fuyuki once, a long time ago. But as soon as she opened her mouth urging him to use her powerful parents, who were the heads of the Northern Family, to advance himself the little affection he had for her always disappeared only to come back again. This emotion inside him became repetitive. He still had dignity in his body. He wanted to flourish as a governor of this town not only due to his wife’s influence but also for his own capabilities. It was hard to say these things to Yukiya. Especially if the child feigned his own intellectual prowess to everybody, including him. Yukimasa knew that his son sacrificed a part of himself while both of them played along with this charade. As a father and a former husband of two intellectuals, he admitted that it was convenient for him, for his conscience to not recognise it. Some things were better left unsaid.

In the long run, it might not be ideal.

Yukiya shed his blockhead persona. He finished at the top of his class in the military academy and was enjoying his close relationship with the crown prince. The stuff that Yukiya told them when he first served His Highness was a total farce. Wakamiya didn’t want to let Yukiya go.

If only Fuyuki were a man… that would be Yukiya now. All the cunning and wickedness he inherited from his mother that it scared Yukimasa all the time.

It must be too late to make amends now. To feel regret was a waste of time. He wanted to assure Yukiya that everything was all right between them, but his pride and fear of his first wife always succeeded.

Laying his head down on one side, his left cheek felt the coolness of the wooden Go board. He let out a sigh he was keeping for so long.

~ fin ~

[howifeltabouthim]

So many thoughts were embarrassing to her and she kept them to herself. She also kept to herself the thought that maybe if one day the embarrassing thoughts were brought out into daylight they might not be as mortifying as she thought they were.

Susan Minot, from Don't Be a Stranger

[randomstarintheskies]

If nature could talk..

Gentle breeze of evening wind

On my cheeks and yours within

Unsaid and kept private

What it was and always been.

I wondered if the wind could talk

Would i get an answer, on what you thought?

If the trees could tell me what went through your mind, would they? Would they mind?

If the gentle flower you picked up for me could whisper what you left unsaid, would it hurt me or leave me sad?

The river took all that time, now I'm here,

Sitting alone withnout you here.

I listen to the quiet rain drops and feel the wind in my hair.

I still listen to the wind, maybe it has answers or a hint.

And I keep waiting for the storm to start

That might erupt inside my heart,

If i ever knew what you had thought

[xminhaxx]

You weren’t there

[orangcs]

on the train home 🚋

[va-queer-o]

wanna vent publicly? (list of silly resources)

→AT THE BEEP: +1 608-856-4955

→LEFT UNSAID: leftunsaidproject@hotmail.com

→THE UNSENT PROJECT: theunsentproject.com/submit

→THINGS YOU WANTED TO SAY: +1 415-273-9079

tywts.com/submit-2

if anyone knows more sites/projects like these lmk!

[djkerr]

Alden Parker Style | NCIS 21x04 Left Unsaid

[nossumusstellae]

@flashfictionfridayofficial

story: Guardian ~ Archive of Memory: Persephone "Ace" Kœrá genre: fantasy character: Birch word count: 546 persephone taglist: @17panicattacksinatrenchcoat @thebookishkiwi @write-with-will @your-reluctant-optimist

Excerpt from the personal musings of Birch Andrea – scrawled in black ink with a quill on thick parchment made from lotus flowers

There is something about her.

This young woman, her dark hair and green eyes, the scarf on her bedside table striped in black, grey, white, and purple.

Her nose in a book. Treasure Island.

So I named her Ace.

Over time... something in me changed. The way she looked at me. With open eyes, with wonder and curiosity, no fear, no hate. Ace never once judged me for who I am. Though... I am sure if she knew what I am... there would be no goodbye. Just a swift exit.

I felt so safe around her. I have never felt that before. Around any human. Most of the time they just try to kill you on sight, no questions.

When the Fates began to send Ace dreams, I almost tell her. Almost. That night in the kitchen when she came down the stairs to find me, uttering that fateful word Nephilim for the first time. Why did it have to be this way?

“Acey... they’re just dreams.”

I am such a crap liar. So I changed the subject.

When spring arrived, it became even harder to keep my mouth shut. I was falling for Ace, and hard. I had to do something. Anything to tell Ace something of the truth.

“Birch Andrea, I swear to the Sacred Solara, if you ever leave me like that again...!”

Oh the look on her face. She is so adorable when she’s angry, that Ace.

I did everything I could to treat Ace well after that. Stealing her all kinds of things. Books, earrings, a bottle of wine. That last one was a bit of a mistake. That hangover was really something. Would I do it again? Oh yes.

I held Ace in my arms every night after that. I knew the Fates would take her soon, and I wanted to savour every moment I had left with her. Breathing in her scent, soaking in the warmth of her skin, the feel of her heartbeat beneath my fingers, the steady beat so unlike my own. The feel of her soft hair, the way the light would dance across it turning the brown into shades of gold. Her eyes. Those green eyes I could lose my very soul in. If I had one.

That last Christmas before the fire. I came so close to just blurting it out.

“Just... thinking, ya know?”

“About what?”

Acey... I’m a spirit. I was sent to judge you for the Fates so you can be their Keeper. My true form is horrible. You would hate it. If I showed you, you would never so much as look at me again.

I know that’s how she would have reacted. But... there was a part of me, then and now I suppose, that believes, perhaps foolishly, that Ace would not have cared.

The night she was taken away... I couldn’t be there. I had to go.

No goodbye. No letter, no note. I had to just vanish.

Leaving everything I ever wanted to say to her unspoken.

Instead, my feelings are imprisoned here in ink, beyond the watchful gaze of the Keeper.

Persephone... I love you.

[tivajunkie]

I love *2* nerd boys who can’t control themselves around new technology. 😂