Hi, I'm Becca! I'm a serious writer in training, using fanfiction writing as practice. Join the family of weirdos, we don't bite THAT hard. ;) | Masterlist | Requests | Buy me a coffee |
If you do this with my fics, or anyone's fics, please know I HATE you. I hate you more than every troll comment, every "your writing sucks kys" comment, every "update soon" comment. I hate you. Other authors hate you. If you want my fic, you either WAIT for it or you pay me for it. And if you won't do one of those things, you don't deserve my fic or anyone else's.
All this does is tell me that you don't see me as a person. All I am is a content machine, and if I'm not working fast enough, you'll feed my writing into a different machine and gobble down whatever it shits out for you.
TBF this problem has been growing for a while. The rise of Generative Artificial Garbage simply makes it really, really stark.
If you read the fic, leave the kudos. Leave a comment too, if possible. Just do it. It takes a few seconds of your time and it means the world to the writer.
Sincerely, me who just got told that my writing feels like watching a blockbuster movie. I don't care if they were sincere or not, I'll be thinking about that comment for the rest of my life and every time I feel bad about my art, I'll remember that someone once liked it.
Hi, everyone! It's been a while... More specifically 1,523 since I last posted. I'm sorry for having abbandoned you for such a long time. It's just that life had many beautiful plans for me and I had to take that break.
In an attempt to ease things and break the ice again, I would like to update you so you understand what's been going on.
First of all, I co-wrote a book with my granfather and one of my brothers. It is a self help book, yes; but it gave me the opportunity to start my name on the literary world and also, I got to give a conference to a school, YAY ME!
After that, and because of the pandemic, I dedicated my entire time to writing my book. Thankfully, I was able not only to finish it but also publish it.
It wasn't a one-year thing, though. It took me about a year to finish it, a year to edit it, a year to copyright it (because my country's copyrights offices suck, thank you very much) and then almost a year to publish it. Finally, in October 2022, my book came to life.
My contract ended last years October, though. So now I'm in the process of translating it to publish it on Amazon Kindle. Also, I now have eight boxes worth of unsold books in my apartment.
Speaking of apartments, I finally became an independent woman. 2023 was the year I moved out from my parents' house and to an apartment with my fiance.
Yes, fiance. I also got engaged. It was around the same time we were moving so that was quite a story (maybe later I'll tell you?).
After that, December 2023, my life turned for the worse. My grandma, my Tita, my favourite person in the whole wide world passed away. Needless to say, I fell into a deep depression that left me frozen for a long time. I'm still recovering from that.
2024 was a year full of deaths. It was painful.
On a brighter note, 2024 was also my most active year in regards to my acting career. I got hired to work in a very haunted building, we mostly did interactive theatre and I loved most of it (another long story, lol).
Did I mention I adopted a cat? Well, I did, and then another one, and then I had to take in my brother's cat because he couldn't take her to where he was moving. That was 2021, my babies are now big, fluffy and almost all healthy.
Binx is the one I first adopted. My only boy, my familiar, my everything. He's a sweet baby angel, addicted to glue though.
The Bloom got adopted by my fiance. She's chaos and grace and I love her. She like biting connected chords which makes me think she must like getting electrocuted.
Botón (Botilupe) is the one my brother had originally adopted. She's a sweet baby angel, very loving. She has lots of health issues though, so I've also had to dedicate months of my life to tend her various needs when she gets sick.
And my fiance also had a puppy. This is Bala, she's hyperactive and very loud. She's a nice puppy who thinks she's the mother of the cats so she tends to scold them and all. She's also an emo icon.
Moving on with my recap, I got my dreamed wedding on October 2024 and latter got legally married on December of that same year. I am happy to say I married my best friend and had the most amazing wedding (in spite of the awful wedding planner I chose).
As for 2025, it started with me being sick, then sick again, then sick again, then sick again... And just a week ago did I finally started to get better (although I still cough every so often).
I can't promise to be as active as I used to but I will try to at least fulfill all fo the pending requests.
What about you? I'd love to know what has happened in your life since we last read each other.
i'm not sure if you check your tumblr anymore
but i just wanted to send you love
really hope you're doing alright
I haven't posted on this blog for a while, but I have always been active on my other blogs and cosntantly check this one because I still get multiple notifications a day (thank you for not letting this blog die, btw).
I have to say two thing to this:
Thanks for sending me love, please know I send love back at you.
This message reminded me why I loved posting here and it is what inspired me to get back to it so thank you so much for that.
I am alright, and will post about my life lately so you all understand why I had been MIA.
Hey there! Can i request something about Sherlock but placed in the times of The Abominable Bride? Like dances and all that stuff (since Sherlock really enjoy dancing) pls? Someway fluffy if you can, that would really be so awesome! Just as all of your post obviously 😉 thxs! 💜
Sorry for the delay, a lot has happened since you sent this request.
Here is the fic you asked for! I hope you like it!
Summary: @bella-pas Can i request something about Sherlock but placed in the times of The Abominable Bride? Like dances and all that stuff (since Sherlock really enjoy dancing) pls? Someway fluffy if you can
Word Count: 2,039
Pairings: Sherlock x reader
Warnings: OOC Sherlock in some ways, also probable historical mistakes.
A/N: I'm back!!!! A little too rusty, but back nonetheless! Also, it's not precisely fluffy but still I think it's pretty cute.
I looked in the mirror. My hair was pulled into a chiffon, leaving my face beautifully uncovered. My neck was adorned with my mother’s jewels. My evening dress had the most gorgeous pink satin, the low neck made it so that the jewels were the very focal point of the whole look, though my big, puffy sleeves weren’t too far behind. But certainly, my favorite part was the lace that covered the top parts of my dress; it was ivory and had little bows that gave me an increased feminine look.
“Oh, how I love this, mother!” I exclaimed, turning around to meet her glance. She had a strange look on her face. “What is it?”
“My dear, you’re truly a woman now.” She replied as her eyes watered a bit.
I blushed, knowing exactly what she meant. Tonight I would be expected to start finding a husband among my acquaintances and whoever I happened to meet at the ball.
“I promise I will always be your little daughter,” I muttered, trying my best not to join in my mother’s crying.
“It’s time, (y/n)!” My father yelled from the foyer. I kissed my mother’s cheeks, took my ivory-colored gloves, and walked downstairs, followed by my mother.
The carriage was already waiting for us. It was black and pulled by a gorgeous brown pureblood horse. We got in and traveled to the ball.
The venue was a big, beautiful manor on the outskirts of the city. The white-colored facade truly evoked the owner’s wealth, as well as the servants who were outside the lot receiving the carriages. I could hear music playing, which got me in the mood for dancing.
As we got in, I couldn’t help but notice all of the young gentlemen who had assisted. I knew some of them, either from having been friends our whole lives or from recent balls. I greeted all of those whom I had previously acquainted, as well as my girlfriends who were also there trying to find a husband.
There were also servants inside, their job was to serve food and drinks to everyone. Soon, I had two servants near me with glasses of wine and hors d’oeuvres. I only took a glass of wine and thanked them.
“Any good bachelor here tonight?” I asked playfully to one of my friends.
“Many,” She answered with a smirk. “Over there is a very wealthy Lord who is known to throw the most amazing parties at his manor.”
“Better than this?”
“Certainly,” She snapped back.
“I don’t quite like his mustache, though.” We laughed and she continued listing all of the elegible bachelors of the night.
After an hour of dancing with a few of them, whispering began taking place throughout the party.
“What is happening?” I asked another one of my friends.
“The detective is here,” She mumbled, almost as if she feared the newcomer could hear her.
I scanned the room rapidly and soon met an odd-looking gentleman followed by whom I thought to be his companion. The man had a rather strange but handsome face, with wide-set eyes, a long nose, thin lips, and perfectly combed black hair. His companion was shorter and not quite as interesting as the detective.
“Is that the one from the papers?”
“Yes, his name is Sherlock Holmes. I wonder what is he doing here.”
“Maybe he got invited.”
“But he rarely gets invited.”
“My dear friend!” The host’s voice rumbled and everyone else got quiet. “You certainly know how to make an entrance!”
The detective half smiled and approached the host, giving him a proper greeting.
“Sorry for the delay, my dear Watson was taking too long to style his mustache.” The companion rolled his eyes and denied everything.
The host laughed whole-heartedly. “No worries, my friend. But please, have something to drink!” He snapped his fingers, a servant arrived quickly and offered Mr. Holmes a glass of wine.
“I’d rather not, I’m working on a case this week and intend to stay sober for the whole of it.” The servant backed off.
“You’re always working, Holmes.” It wasn't until then that the host noticed the silence. “But what are we all expecting? Play some more music, maestro! Everybody, dance!”
The ball resumed but I was starstruck. A real-life detective right in front of me, and none less than Sherlock Holmes himself.
I was an avid reader of Mr. Holmes’ adventures, though I had only seen drawings of him which, in full honesty, barely reassembled him. He didn’t look quite as I had imagined, though. He was younger, shorter and he looked rather serious. However, I was not to complain, for I found his face very pleasing.
I must’ve been staring because soon I caught his eye. He looked both bothered and pleased at the same time, if that was ever possible of course, and he approached swiftly.
“Can I help you, madame?” He asked.
“Can I help you, sir?” I replied and quickly scolded myself mentally. I was not behaving as a lady should.
However, he found this amusing and laughed shortly.
“Would you care for a dance?” He inquired, extending his hand towards me.
“I would love to.”
We danced a whole piece without speaking a word. He would only observe me from head to toe, and oftentimes would make facial expressions; it was almost as if he were talking to himself.
The piece finished and we bowed. I was about to go back to my corner with my friends when he stopped me.
“I think you are a fairly good dancer and would like to share another piece with you if that’s convenient for you.”
I froze for a second, my mind going faster than the rest of my body. THE Sherlock Holmes was asking ME to dance with him AGAIN. It was a dream out of my wildest fantasies.
“I would like that.”
Another piece went by but this time he was much closer to my face and he kept whispering little facts about me. How could he have know so many things of me by just observing? It was an incredible talent for sure.
The piece ended and I stood there, waiting for another invitation to dance. However, it did not arrive. Instead, Mr. Holmes walked past me towards one of the servants and took a glass of wine from them.
I was confused.
“An absolute oddball, isn’t he?” A male voice spoke from behind me. I turned around and found Mr. Watson smiling at me.
“He certainly isn’t like any gentleman I’ve ever known,” I began speaking, “but I haven’t met many gentlemen for I am still young.”
Mr. Watson seemed pleased with my reply and nodded. We then both looked towards Mr. Holmes as if waiting for his next move.
He finished his glass of wine and left through one of the side doors.
“Do you like games, Miss…”
“Miss (y/n)”
“...Miss, (y/n)?”
“What kinds of games?” I inquired.
“All of them.” He stated.
“I believe I do.” My answer was decided, although I didn’t quite understand the conversation.
“Then I believe you should follow him,” he said. “But beware, he always wins.” With that last warning, Mr. Watson left to follow a servant carrying food.
I stood there a few more seconds, perhaps even a whole minute, just breathing in and out. I wasn’t ladylike to chase after a man, however, this wasn’t just any man. Besides, I would only talk to him… perhaps.
So it was decided.
I walked through the same door Mr. Holmes had gone through. It led to a beautiful garden with statues, fountains, and even a maze. There were a few guests out there, though no one was going as far as Mr. Holmes had.
He was at the maze’s entrance and he looked impatient.
I hurried to meet him, though slowed down my pace when I was nearer to not look desperate. He finally looked at me and smiled.
“You’ve finally come,” he said.
“I didn’t know you were expecting me to,” I replied.
“Oh, please,” he scoffed, “you’re smarter than what you pretend to be.”
I brushed it off with a smile and started analyzing the maze.
“Do you feel like you could solve this?” He inquired.
“Do you?”
He observed me for a couple of seconds.
“What is it with you and answering my questions with more questions?”
I chuckled. “Is that a problem?”
He sighed and offered me his hand.
“Would you like to solve this maze with me?”
“That is quite an offering, Mr. Holmes. Especially since we’re not supposed to be alone with each other without a chaperone.”
“Not a problem,” Mr. Holmes smirked and looked behind.
I turned and found the very Mr. Watson right there.
“Mr. Watson is not an adequate chaperone, I fear.”
“Why not? He is a married man and a faithful one at that.” Mr. Holmes replied.
I must’ve had a terrible facial reaction, for Mr. Holmes gave up and asked me to lead him to my parents. That I did.
“Father, mother, this is Mr. Sherlock Holmes.” I introduced them. Mr. Holmes then introduced Mr. Watson and they all shared a bit of small talk. As it turned out, my father had already been acquainted with Mr. Watson before and was rather fond of him.
“This is a lovely conversation but I’m afraid I must ask something of you right here and now, although it might not be the proper place.”
My parent’s face gloomed. They looked scared, and my mother gave the kind of look that said “What have you done, child?”
Mr. Holmes took in a deep breath.
“I would like to court your daughter.”
My face jaw dropped and I couldn’t help blushing. My mother sighed with relief and my father, though skeptical, nodded.
“I would also like to have Mr. Watson as our chaperone if that agrees with you.”
My parents shared a look and then agreed.
Everything happened rather quickly and soon I was back at the maze with Mr. Holmes and Mr. Watson.
“So, ready to solve a maze?”
“No,” I declared.
“What do you mean no? We already have a chaperone.”
“I know that. But to me, courtship is more of an excuse to make me solve a maze or play games. I want to be courted by a gentleman who truly wants my love and not just someone who is bored.”
“I can assure you, it’s not boredom.” He came closer. “I’ve been working on a case, it’s impossible for me to get bored when…”
“My point still stands, Mr. Holmes.”
He sighed once more, he came even closer, and he took my hands in his.
“Miss (y/n),” he started, “no one had ever accepted a single dance with me without asking too many questions. And, in full honesty, not one of my former dance partners had been quite as splendid as you have.”
“You barely know me, sir.”
“I’m a detective, and the best at it. My job is to know people just by looking at them.” His grip tightened slightly. “Did I not show you how much I know of you with those little facts I dropped.”
“Yes, but…”
“And I am not known for being hurtfully honest?”
“Yes, but…”
“Then why wouldn’t you believe I want to court you?”
I didn’t have an answer. I simply nodded and looked away.
“Please don’t look away, my sweet.”
“I don’t want my reputation ruined for a game.” I insisted.
“You have my word.”
I nodded and followed him into the maze where he allowed me to lead the way.
“Always go left,” I quoted, “that’s what mother says.”
“I don’t think that’s how it works, dear (y/n)” He fumbled.
“Then how do you explain this?” I asked playfully.
The center of the maze was just in front of our eyes. Mr. Holmes looked impressed but defeated if that was ever possible.
“You are magnificent.”
Without any warning, he leaned in to give me a sweet kiss on the lips. His hands holding my face ever so softly, and his chest pressed against mine.
“Mr. Holmes!” I exclaimed when he pulled back.
“Please, call me Sherlock.”
--------------------------------
I really hoped you liked it. And if you did, please consider supporting me further by reblogging.
Summary: Have you ever felt like you’re too far up your fandoms that you’re not really living your real life? Well, that. But more.
Word Count: 1,817
Pairings: Dean x reader, Sherlock x reader
Warnings: You’re not gonna like it.
Sudden fandom changes, bit of smut which is not really smutty, lazy writing, suicidal attempt, usage of drugs and alcohol, OOC scenes.
Original A/N: Because of who I am, I like to exaggerate everything. With that being said, let me tell you that this is how I felt for many years, with multiple fandoms. I have lived a tortous life, therefore I was always seeking to live somewhere else. Almost all of my childhood and teenage years were an on-going loop between my fake life inside my fandoms and my real life. I barely remember anything now outside that make-pretend life I created for myself.
Now I am living my life, in a way that I can no longer hide inside that fake life. Call it what you want. Anxiety is coming back to me, fyi, and I tried to hide there but I just can’t. This is my way of expressing it.
The Girl, Interrupted theme is because I watched it yesterday after performing Lisa’s monologue at my acting class - a way of giving therapy to myself through art. Anyway, I hope you don’t read this fic. I didn’t like it at all, but I feel the need, nonetheless, to share it somewhere. To have evidence that I went through that. Probably, someone out there has too. Idk.
New A/N: I wrote this MONTHS ago, long before I got diagnosed, and I got scared of posting it because it could be too depressing. But I hate leaving drafts all alone so here goes nothing.
Have you ever confused a dream with life? Or stolen something when you have the cash? Have you ever been blue? Or thought you were moving while sitting still? Maybe I was just crazy… Maybe it was loneliness…
“Put her in restraints!” A woman yelled. “Withdraw blood… Give her five milligrams of Valium, IV”
“Turn her head so she doesn’t aspirate,” another woman advised. I felt my head being turned by a pair of terribly warm hands.
I was attacked. I had been attacked.
“You should check my hand. There’s no bones in it anymore…”
“What were you thinking?” The first woman asked.
“I was trying to save the world…” I replied, “Don’t worry, you’ll thank me later.”
Sometimes it’s hard for me to stay in one place.
“Hey,” I opened my eyes at the familiar voice. The image at first was blurry, but I could recognize the colors of their flannel shirts. My back was killing me, and my arms felt numb. “(Y/N) are you okay?”
“Yo, sweetheart! Wake up!” A rough voice called out. I could see his red flannel.
Red flannel. Dean was wearing a red flannel, and Sam had the green one. That could only mean one thing…
I looked down at my own clothes, I was wearing a brown flannel.
I smiled childishly, and my vision finally cleared. Both men were staring at me, worried. “I’m home,” is all I could say.
Dean sighed and rolled his eyes, Sam smiled back at me.
“Yes, you are,” he said, “you’re home with us. Where else would you be?”
“At a hospital or some shit,” I replied.
“We don’t do no hospitals, sweetheart,” Dean reminded me from afar.
“Did we get him? The djinn?” I inquired, with wide eyes.
“Yup,” Sam nodded.
Dean appeared back again, handing me a cold beer. It was closed. Sam took my hand and guided it to my forehead, so I could press the bottle to my forehead. I was probably wounded there too.
“We Jafar-ed the shit out of him,” Dean snorted. Sam inhaled profoundly, as an attempt to not slap his brother. “I Jas-min that we almost didn’t make it…” Dean continued, “but enough Abu me,” he giggled, “how was your daydream, sweetheart? Where’d Iago?”
“Please, stop,” Sam begged. Dean tried to argue but Sam was already looking back at me. “But do tell us where did you go?”
“I…”
“Where did you go?”
“(Y/N)” a strong light blinded me for a second. I suddenly felt something in my eyes, pulling them open. “(Y/N), we’re calling you!” The voice chanted. “Hello, Earth requires Ms (Y/N)...”
“Wha-what?” I stuttered, pulling away from the light.
The scenery had changed. I was no longer at a motel room with awful wallpaper, but instead at a very nice living room, though the wallpaper was still awful.
“Are you okay?” The man that had been calling my name asked. He kneeled in front of me.
“Are you real?” I tilted my head to the side, and he smiled tenderly.
“As real as your nose,” he said and booped my nose. His touch was soft and warm.
“What happened?”
“You fainted,” another voice answered. I looked back, only to see the familiar figure of Sherlock sitting on his desk, typing furiously on his computer. “I told you not to get too close to the evidence, but did you listen? No, why?” He gazed back, “Because ‘oh Sherlock, don’t be so stern, it’s just a flower bouquet!’ but I was right, as usual.”
“Let her breath,” Watson commanded. “We both smelled it too and nothing bad happened.”
“Yes, but so did the police officers… All male, I must remind you” Sherlock snapped. “The flowers were sent to a woman who, where is she now? Oh, yes, DEAD!”
“I don’t get it,” I interfered.
“I suspect the flowers are poisoned with some sort of chemical that only affects women, by reacting to their production of hormones.” Sherlock informed me.
“Right… And what does that have to do with your intoxication?” The female voice asked again.
I suddenly snapped back to the hospital. I was laying in a hospital bed, with lots of tubles connected to me. There was a woman in white, sitting by my side with a notepad on her lap.
“Well, obviously I’ve been affected… It’s the flowers, you see…” I spoke.
“Flowers? What flowers?” The nurse, she was a nurse, asked again.
“The poisoned flowers!”
“Do you see them now?” She inquired.
“Of course not!”
“No?”
The djinn stood behind her. “Say no,” he said with an ominous voice.
“No,” I obeyed.
The nurse looked behind her and the djinn disappeared instantly. “Are you seeing anything out of the ordinary at the moment?”
“No, why would I? I’m not crazy,”
“At this point, I wouldn’t be surprised if you were…” Dean sighed. He was sitting by my side, in bed, and was connecting his phone to the charger. “I am a little crazy too, you know?”
“Oh, yeah?” I trembled.
“Yeah,” he muttered and finally let go off his phone. He turned to look at me for a second before cuddling me. I was the small spoon, he was shirtless. “I’m crazy about you.”
“Smooth,” I replied sheepishly. I could feel the ghost of his arms around me… Ghost, because I couldn’t really feel him. He was hot, yet cold as if air was blowing over my skin.
“Are you okay?” Dean asked.
“I am.”
I wasn’t. I’m not okay.
“Good night, sweetheart,” he whispered and pecked my shoulder. Again, I felt it but not quite.
“Dean?”
“Huh?” I closed my eyes, not wanting to see what would happen after I said what I wnated to say.
“I feel like I’m still inside the djinn’s daydream,” I confessed.
Dean sat up and fixed a lose strand of hair that was falling over my eyes.
“You’re not inside a djinn’s daydream…” He said, calmly.
“How can you tell?” I asked, still not opening my eyes.
“Because djinns don’t exist, that’s why,” he said.
I finally opened my eyes. Black locks and blue eyes were all I could see for a moment.
“Djinns are mythological, and that is all…” Sherlock continued. I could hear his voice turning from Dean’s to his own. “I understand that maybe the toxins from the flowers could affect your perception of life, but there is nothing to fear. The effects will pass and you’ll be good as new.”
“I don’t feel good as new.”
“Clearly,” he grunted.
Noticing my state, he decided to go a little further from his usual behaviour. He pressed his head to my arm… I was still laying on my side, as if I was still being the small spoon.
“I will be here, by your side, as long as you let me.”
My heart fluttered, but not in love but rather in pain.
“I can’t control that.”
“The pills are having a positive effect on her now, we can get her to be conscious for a bit longer than before…” I heard a voice coming from the hall.
“What is that?” I asked. Sherlock tilted his head.
“What?” He furrowed, “I don’t hear anything.”
“Well, I do.”
I got up from bed and opened the door. At the other side of it was a hospital hall rather than Sherlock’s. All white, with blinding white lights. The nurse was talking to what I assumed was a doctor.
I felt like I would faint again.
Sherlock got up as well and dragged me back to the bed, closing the door behind us.
“You know what could help?” He smirked. “I know… Because I know you.”
He got me back in bed, facing up to the ceiling. I was about to talk, when I felt him pulling down my pijama shorts. A sigh left my lips, as I felt his tongue rubbing my clit in circles. I closed my eyes, filled with pleasure, and tried to keep it quiet so neither Mrs Hudson nor Watson could hear us.
“Come here,” I begged after a while.
I opened my eyes and saw Dean crawling up to my face. His tattoo was covered in sweat and his hair was ruffled.
“You thought I would just leave it there, sweetheart?” He flirted and, without a warning, he thrust inside me. “You feel good today… Tight, and so wet for me…”
I moaned, getting lost in his green eyes. I wanted to kiss him, but I couldn’t.
I didn’t even feel his weight over me.
I blinked.
TARDIS.
I blinked again.
Dean was looking at me, dumbfounded as he made love to me.
I shook my head and closed my eyes again, letting my body fall back into the pillows as I succumbed to the pleasure he… they were giving me. I called both of their names in between whispers until I climaxed.
I sighed and opened my eyes.
I was in my room. Darkness surrounded me. I was alone, and my fingers were still between my legs.
I wiped them quickly with the bed sheets and took my phone to googled Dean Winchester’s name, only to find out that he was not being looked at by the US government, but rather a fictional character. Not only that, but I saw pictures of him in the most intimate moments… Moments I could recall from living them with him.
I clicked on one of his pictures.
Jensen Ackles… Married.
I clicked on Sam’s.
Married.
I clicked on Castiel’s.
Married.
They were all married. Click by click I undercovered the lie I was living in.
“But what about Sher?” I thought to myself.
I googled him. Fictional character, based on the books by Sir Arthur Conan Doyle.
There he was, my Sherlock, next to others who had also played him.
“I thought I was in a hospital,” I whispered.
“Maybe it’s just your unconscious mind asking to be treated by a professional.” Castiel’s voice spoke.
“Maybe it’s because that is where you’re going,” Sam gestured to the side of my bed. A bottle of vodka laid there empty, next to empty sets of aspirins.
“Is there an end to this?” I asked.
“I’m afraid not,” Jim Moriarty spoke from the darkness. “But aren’t you having fun?”
“What if I die?” I insisted.
“You won’t,” Sherlock said, “you still got enough energy to call an ambulance for yourself.”
“Please do,” Watson begged softly.
I grabbed my phone and dialed the number.
“I need an ambulance…”
“We’ll see you on the other side, sweetheart.” Dean smiled with a glimpse of sadness.
“I love you, guys.”
Have you ever confused a dream with life? Or stolen something when you have the cash? Have you ever been blue? Or thought you were moving while sitting still? Maybe I was just crazy… Maybe it was loneliness… Or maybe I was just a fangirl… Interrupted.
I’m sharing this as an addition to my lastest post. Sorry if it’s depressing, I just figured it would be a way of showing you guys I’ve not stopped writing at all.
“Unintentional poem to a hoarder (me)
And just when she thought she was safe,
Just when she thought she was over it,
The thing came back.
I came back as a slight tremor,
It came back as a tickle on the back of her hand
It came back as anxiety and depression.
Just when she thought she could move on,
She stopped moving.
She only walked back, senseless, to put everything away.
Away in a box,
A box meant to be thrown away,
A box she would keep forever.
She walked once more to hide everything away,
She kicked dirty clothes under the bed,
She would still use them nonetheless.
She didn’t unpack the plastic bags full of old clothes either.
No, she would keep them.
Just when she thought she was safe,
The thing came back
And it made her shiver.
She shivered for she knew
She could never go back,
She would never be safe,
She would never get cured.
As time went by,
The thing grew stronger.
Hiding in the back of her mind,
Like a beast lurking in the shadows.
It would ask for little offerings.
A napkin, a bit of sugar,
The cork of an empty wine bottle…
Little thing to keep it serene.
And she thought she could get better,
And she threw away bags of things,
And she felt like she was rising from death.
But deep inside, she knew the thing was anything
But dead.
A whole year went by,
A year she thought to be good.
But by the end she realised
The thing had done it again.
She was afraid of throwing away the bag of cookies,
It still had crumbs that she could eat.
She was afraid of eating the chips
That lay flat over her desk,
What if she needed them?
Her tubes of paint, her brushes,
Her palettes, her solvents,
They were all a mess.
In fact, her whole room was a mess.
And she realised,
She realised too late,
That there were clothes under the bed,
That there were napkins on the bedside table
That her clothes were still in boxes and plastic bags,
Once again I broke my own promise of coming back and finish my to-do list. I will no longer apologise nor will I find excuses, because the truth is none of that matters right now.
I’m not writing this in an attempt to call anyone’s attention, nor am I doing it to make me feel good in any kind of way. I write this because the year is ending and I like to recall what happened throught the year and also because I need to express myself. Sorry if it triggers anyone.
At the beginning of the year I was full of work, inspiration, love, friendship... I turned 21 and was thinking this was the year of my great breakthough. I thought it was the year I would finally finish college, move out of my parents house, and start making a life for myself. How wrong I was.
By February my life broke in a way I can’t even begin to describe. I had a big loss, a loss that happened by my own hand and that I still cannot explain without hating myself a bit more. And yet, I still had some love left.
By March things in my country went really bad. Tons of women just get killed like bugs all around me, and every time they were closer and closer to me. My mother and I protested along many others by hiding from the world for 24 hours. No wifi, no streaming, no nothing. It didn’t do much. Not even my own father and brothers took it seriously.
And then we learned about the rona and we had to hide all together for a whole month. My boyfriend moved in with us, and I realised my relationship wasn’t as perfect as I thought. There was something wrong with us.
Not only that, but I realised how useless and immature I really am. I can’t move out and actually live alone... not yet.
Months went by, I can’t even recall what happened when, but I always felt like something was off. Not only with my boyfriend, but also with my family. There was something wrong. But hey, I finished my first novel.
By August my parents decided to travel and so my brother and I moved in temporarily with my boyfriend. We started taking couple’s therapy, and those were the best three weeks in my life, I swear. And yet there still was something off.
When we came back I was afraid. Afraid of bringing my things back, afraid things would break even more. But my grandparents arrived and things got easier for a while.
The following months were confusing. Every day I turned angrier and angrier, breaking whatever was left of myself. I then realised the friendships I had at the beginning of the year were long gone, and so would happen to my relationship if I didn’t seek for help.
We had been to therapy, yes, but the kind of help I needed was something else.
My grandparents and my parents are at the brink of divorce, my uncle got divorced, another aunt got divorced as well, my friends broke up with their respective partners...
I called a suicide hotline. I got asked to seek for a therapist urgently.
I got depression, anxiety and I no longer know myself.
Christmas was nice, but there were details I cannot recall because my new pills are taking the best out of me. I fall asleep anywhere I can, I forget to eat, or go pee, or even speak. I feel like a ghost.
I began hoarding again, and though I paint twice a day and can act like a human being, I no longer feel like myself.
They say it gets better with time, and my psychiatrist says I will recover, and my therapist says I’m doing great but I don’t feel great.
I thought of jumping off the window not two hours ago, and I’ve starved myself the whole day.
I’m afraid. I’ve no immune system left, I haven’t got one since I got sixteen and diagnosed with lupus. If rona gets me, I don’t think I’ll be able to fight it. I’m not sure I will want to fight.
I feel confused. I’ve always been the one to stick out and stay strong for others and now I feel like no one is strong enough to stay with me.
I had amazing plans for my 2021. I’d start a YouTube channel, I’d make a music video (a cover song), and I’d challenge myself to use all of my clothes for a change and document it for views... But now the only time I change clothes is when I go see my in-laws and they leave today. The only songs I sing are in my head, and the only views I get are imaginary.
Is it normal? I hope so, but I’ve never been one to tag as normal.
And all I have to say to you is thank you for sticking here with me, I can’t promise I will come back soon or ever, nor can I promise to finish the list. All I can do is thank you for being here, for being patient, and for believing in me.
Hey guys! Thanks so much for 200 followers I honestly don’t know why you all have stuck around. These are some masterlists that I usually want to read from but always have trouble finding. Also, I thought you guys might want to have some author recs?
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@forever-rogue’s Masterlist
@darling-i-read-it’s Masterlist
@imagines-so-what-if’s Sherlock masterlist
@ljb-novels’s Seven Minutes in Marvel Heaven Masterlist
@klinenovakwinchester’s Safe Masterlist
- Mycroft Holmes x Reader | “Reader is John Watson’s younger sibling (it’s my favorite trope can you tell) and has had a rough past. After finding herself out of an abusive relationship with nowhere to go, Mrs. Hudson gladly rents 221C out to her. A few months have passed since the reader has moved in and taken a job at a local cafe, and all seems remotely okay. Besides her abuser making a habit of showing up at her work – oh, and her growing feelings toward a certain Mycroft Holmes.”
- Steve Rogers x Reader | “For five summers, Steve Rogers, Bucky Barnes and you had been a trio; spending the summer at a lake with your families. While Bucky tagged along, there had always been a special bond between Steve and you. Every summer the lake had been something to look forward to until you stopped going and life moved on. Now as adults, Steve and you return at the same time, for different reasons. Can you rekindle that friendship or was it just youthful summer magic?”
@the--sad--hatter’s A Taste for Life Masterlist
- Bucky Barnes x Reader | Coffee Shop AU | “There’s a café in Brooklyn where the atmosphere is almost as warm and rich as the coffee they serve. It might be a little out of your way but it’s worth braving the Subway for, especially since it’s the only place you ever seem to get any writing done. That is, until the café owner decides to ban you from the premises ‘for your own good’. What Bucky Barnes doesn’t realise is that you will go to incredible lengths to get your next fix. With the help of a few of your friends (and a few of his) you embark on your quest the regain access to The B&W Café, wreaking havoc in his life along the way.”
@tomhollandd’s Masterlist of Masterlist
@sherrybaby14’s Masterlist
@nellblazer’s The Great Game Masterlist
- Moriarty x Female OC, Sherlock x Female OC | Jim Moriarty selected all his hostages perfectly but for his last one he wanted someone…random. Random meant your office, unfortunately.
- Jaskier x Reader | A collaborative Modern Witcher AU, in which Jaskier, Geralt, & Yennefer are members of the punk band Vicious Mockery and the reader is a fan who ends up coming along with them on tour and begins dating Jaskier. Also features a couple of original characters and rival Valdo Marx.
@magicalthoughtsendinterriblefics’s Sherlock Masterlist
@melanoms’s Masterlist
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Thank you all again for 200! I can’t believe I got here!!
stormborns
dailybridgerton
izzy806
areudirty
janainaart
theartofmadeline
