Ti prego, non torturarti con domande di cui non conosci la risposta. Stai attraversando un momento molto difficile, ma ti stai dando da fare e lo fai di continuo. Ogni batosta che prendi ti rende più forte.
despite rosie not having a lot of money, she’s got some nice things. most of them are things her parents send her from home, slowly but surely cleaning out the last of their six children’s rooms. they talked about in the letter when they’d sent her all her bedding. maybe we’ll start fostering again. that’d be good for them, rosie thinks. more kids around means more people to keep track of her father’s health, make sure he’s not eating those burgers he loves a little too much, and keep her mom laughing and happy. or maybe we’ll turn into a boarding house. she can’t imagine they’d get too much business, but she hopes whatever they do works out for them. she unpacks the bedding, and it feels too much like home for a second. that familiar scent of the fabric that, no matter if rosie used the exact same downy softener & tide detergent, she could never get quite right. it feels wrong to just… put them on the bed in her tiny room without any sense of appreciation. so she turns the living room of her and pluto’s apartment into a small fort, threadbare blankets she bought herself forming the ceiling and the softer, more luxurious blankets from home padding the floor like a giant nest. she had texted lessa to just walk on in, lock the door behind her - and when the door opens and closes she just calls out without moving from her spot. ‘ get your cute little butt in here, les ! ’ when the other girl crawls inside, rosie pats the spot next to her, gesturing for lessa to lay down as well. they’re forehead to forehead, nose-to-nose in the small fort, but rosie doesn’t mind so much. kinda feels like having a sister again. ‘ i made a fort. ’