i think a lot about how kaz brekker, this monster, this bastard of the barrel, this crook with dirtyhands…offered to give himself up to let everyone else go free. the odds would have been stacked against him yet he stubbornly stood by his choice and said, “i’m giving you a way out. take it.” i want to cry, this boy, he was e x p o s e d in crooked kingdom. coldhearted my ass.
Where is he? The man who was just like me Heard he was hiding somewhere I can’t see And I’m alone, and I realize that when I get home I wanna go through my red and my cherry Yes I’m alone, and I realize when I get home I wanna go through my red and my cherry
are you doing today, buddy?” Your roommate asks as she plops down on the couch
next to you. She knows that you’re a little down today because it’s Valentines
day so you get to see a ton of couples posting pictures together, but you’ll
spend most of the day just missing your boyfriend and trying not to be sad
about the fact that you won’t be able to spend Valentines Day together.
alright.” You reply shortly, not wanting to complain because you really don’t have anything to complain about. You’re just lucky to have Shawn, and you’re proud of everything he’s accomplished, so you won’t let yourself be upset that he can’t be here and that you haven’t even heard from him all day.
sorry,” She says, even though you said you were alright, she knows you’re not
exactly. “Have you talked to him today at least?” She questions.
he’s sleeping I think?” You respond because he hasn’t replied to anything
you’ve sent him yet, but you’re just assuming with the time zones its probably
the middle of the night where he is.
just be that much better the next time you see him,” She tries to offer
really. I’m fine. It’s not a big deal.”
She smiles sadly at you, and you hate that she pities you even though she’s not
doing it intentionally. At least she drops the subject and you get to talk
about other things that puts you in a bit of a better mood and gets your mind
off the fact that it’s Valentines Day and you haven’t even heard anything from
your boyfriend even though it’s nearly three in the afternoon where you are.
decide to take a shower, something that normally just helps you to get your
mind of things that are bothering you. You’ve probably sent Shawn about ten
messages and he hasn’t replied to anything. That’s unlike him, but you know he
gets busy sometimes and it isn’t his fault. Or he could be sleeping. Either way
it sucks that of all days, he chose Valentines day to not reply to your messages.
you get out of the shower and get dressed you check your phone again, half
expecting to have no notifications, but you’re surprised to see that Shawn has
finally texted you. Happy Valentines Day
babe xx and the next message asks, Did
you get the flowers? You feel a little better. At least he sent flowers,
but you hadn’t received any flowers.
You’re alive. No, I haven’t? You reply.
Oh comes his immediate
response, and then They should be there
soon, are you home?
Yeah You click send and are
starting to text him asking about his day just to see how he is, but your
doorbell rings. You wonder if it is the flowers he sent, and if it is you’re thinking how it is really weird timing since he had just talked about it. You shake off the thought and open
the door without even bothering to look through the peephole. You see the
flowers first, probably two dozen red roses. There are so many flowers that you can’t even see the person holding them. You’re about to try to thank the guy
who delivered them when the person moves the flowers and you actually see his face. You have to stop yourself
from screaming, and your hand goes to your shocked mouth. “Shawn?” You say, not
believing your eyes.
flowers are here, baby.” He says, a cheeky grin on his face.
just hug him tightly, despite the flowers being slightly in your way, then you
usher him inside. He hands you the vase of flowers and you quickly put them
down before finding yourself back in his arms. “Happy Valentines Day, darling.”
He says softly into your ear and you can’t stop yourself from thinking how it
really is a happy Valentines Day now that he’s here.
So Idk why my images end up odd sometimes? clicking on them in a full screen mode usually helps but for those who had trouble with the last update, the image was a picture of Gabriel Agreste saying “I know we’ve had our disagreements, but this is unlike you”
and it’s been a while since I’ve done a week day update. I’m just, sorry I wasn’t feeling up to doing an update last weekend. tbh I’m not even feeling right rn, I feel choked up and it’s hard to breathe right and i’m nearly always close to tears. But um, if I didn’t do this, I wouldn’t do anything today. I know something more predictable is best but I can’t seem to keep that promise and so I’ll just update as I go no matter the time or day
Pouring your heart and soul into someone and then they decide they don’t want you anymore is the worst possible feeling in the world. And when they seem to just move on to someone else like they never even cared about you its hurts more than anything. I am tired of being hurt. I am tired of being used. This is why I have trust issues. When I love I love with all my heart. I don’t have anymore feeling to give anymore. I’m just exhausted and empty. I’m sorry.
Once, when his uncles asked him what gift he wanted for his nameday, he begged them for a dragon. “It wouldn’t need to be a big one. It could be little, like I am.” His uncle Gerion thought that was the funniest thing he had ever heard, but his uncle Tygett said, “The last dragon died a century ago, lad.” That had seemed so monstrously unfair that the boy had cried himself to sleep that night.
“Wait.” The beekeeper called out before he could stop himself, though his voice was low.
His visitor paused her hand just above the door handle. It wasn’t in response but rather simply coincidental to his word. Her movement had already been slowing as she approached the door, as if she was as hesitant as he was, agonising over whether to speak.
His cottage at Sussex Downs only occasionally saw visitors other than John and his brother’s PA. There’d been a few irksome journalists that’d somehow acquired his private address. And then there was him
twice Sherlock had opened the door to find a heavily (and amusingly) disguised young man with bright scanning eyes as sharp as his.
The Woman had gracefully arrived without notice on a foggy morning earlier that week, and that single knock, clear and crisp, was the most beautiful of sounds.
Since relocating he still took on cases now and then, but was mostly away from the public eye. And her..business could be expertly conducted at a distance. If he were to broach the subject, now would be the time. To discuss future arrangements, entertain possibilities. To..ask her to stay.
But then what? Games of puzzle-solving and wits over newspapers at breakfast, and a round of chess whilst waiting for the kettle to sing ‘afternoon tea’? Domesticity and companionship, night and day, each other’s moves turning all too predictable and never more a mystery? Until time diluted their inky hair to an ever lighter silver and further traced lines at the corners of their eyes, until one pair of charming blue jewels was losing its shine under an ardent but watery gaze, until trembling hands lingeringly caressed cooling skin in a painful, single-sided embrace?
No. He couldn’t continue that train of thought. He’d rather close his eyes and see the Queen of his Mind ever brilliant, ever wearing a challenging smirk, when all the lights of the Palace eventually dimmed as the Grim Reaper arrived to take him away. He’d rather them remember each other for their very best of times, as matching sharp minds, always. He knew she would want the same. He couldn’t..couldn’t have her stay.
“Allow me.” He gestured to the door instead.
There was relief written in her demeanour.
As he held the door open, she tugged at the lapel of his suit jacket and leaned up to briefly connect their lips.
“Thank you. Mr Holmes.” She said in a whisper as she pulled away.
For not bringing up what we’ve both been carefully dancing around to avoid. For not making it even more difficult for me to leave. Thank you, because to what you’d wanted but chose not to say, I might’ve..I might’ve answered yes.
Thirty years ago on a sunny day in London they had fatefully crossed path, a meeting that had since entangled them like a quantum mechanical paradox, and from that point began a story of many, many occasions of ‘could’ve been but never was’.
But perhaps it was better this way. Better to keep their timelines principally separate, marked with a controlled number of sporadic rendezvous. Better to continue with their intermittent texting, a little surprise and fondness with every sound of the familiar ringtone, a small smile with each 'message delivered’ that requested no response.
Better to imagine that the other simply grew disinterested when, someday, a text became their last.
Because unlike fairy tales that’d invariably come to a halt, unlike ‘together and happily ever after’ with an expiration date attached, this way, this way their story would never have to end. A story through time and distance, of what was spoken in silence. Of anticipation without expectation, the thrill without the burden.
Or so they told themselves.
After all, even death would be powerless to do them apart if they hadn’t been together in the first place.