the game is on

I have been taking a break for a while and have actually been enjoying my time away. This blog is special to me and I decided to delete many of my other blogs, but this is not one of them. I will come back! I’d love to stay in touch with my friends and mutuals so please feel free to add me on Dis//cord ( (screen)writing#4143 ) and feel free to message me. I have a personal blog and twitter I am happy to share if I trust you.

Ash didn’t need to remember the dream to know what it was about. It was about the  same damn thing it’d been about for the past eighteen years. Feeling the bed shift under  him as she moved to wrap her arms around him, Ash gently rested the side of his head  against the top of hers. Pressing a light kiss to her hairline, the man wrapped an arm  around her slender figure. His hands were continuing to tremble, but not in a way that  inhibited his ability to draw her close. “ I know, love. ”

     “Mine was simply a question as well. I truly cannot tell if you wish for me to stay or not.” Mycroft was good at reading people, but there were some moments in which he couldn’t fully grasp his sister.

     There’s so much unsaid, so much to be read between the lines of Eurus’ words and you’re left to wonder, a spark of something igniting within your heart, getting stronger and fiercer with its every beat. Should you try to look deeper into the meaning that she let on, though? This is what’s the matter with YOU. You always look too much into things, you let your mind wander to the places you shouldn’t touch, past the lines you shouldn’t cross. This habit of yours never ends in good and you know it. But look at you, ready to put your heart on the line once more, it’s potential breaking be damned when hope is spreading in your breast.

    “Or a loved one does that for their beloved.” Your voice is naturally sweet, but at that moment it is even tenderer, just barely above the whisper. There is no need for loud exclamations, sometimes soft words work better than those of strong stature. “And, IF YOU WANT—” a delicate shrug — “I can be the one to stand by you.” 

“I can’t help but feel like that’s a heavy burden to carry.” She, Eurus, being the burden. She isn’t an easy person to be with in most circumstances, smaller doses of Eurus Holmes has been best for her in terms of maintaining relationships. Even if they aren’t, strictly, typical relationships. 

     With the smallest of chuckles, Victor lets his fingers run from her shoulders down her back. His touch is gentle at first, allowing her to get used to the feeling of fingers across the span of her back. “Am I?” The smile on his lips is filled with warmth, a clear love written in his features for the woman beneath his fingertips. “I’m glad you can be yourself around me, that you allow yourself to.” His touch is a bigger harder now, fingers gently digging into her muscles.

     “I’d do it even if I wasn’t the one who shot you.” Which is true enough. This simple act of help isn’t purely out of guilt. Whatever Eurus may need, Mary’s there to help her, and to never judge her for it. Are there some things Mary will scold and lecture the woman for? Of course, but that won’t mean she’ll help any less. “I’ll always help you. You should know that.”

   “Well, there are a couple factors,” she starts, falling into heel with her sister and leading her into the next room down the hall. “Some have just worked in fashion so long that their body image is in tatters. It happens to almost everyone.” Cee gives a look, that’s almost guilty. It suggests that she’s been-there-done-that, or maybe still doing that. “Or they’ve eaten before they come and are just here to get on with the work, some don’t know they’re allowed to help themselves and some are too hipster to eat anything containing sugar, gluten or– basically anything that food has in it.” Her tone is slightly teasing, but it’s probably true. It’s very unfashionable to eat anything that isn’t green and blended these days. “Most are the latter, it’s sort of exhausting actually.” The next door room is much the same as one before, only it’s empty and in the place of camera equipment, there is a table of food and drink.

“That seems... wasteful. This looks well catered.”  She approaches the food with a look of appreciation on her face. There are plates and cutlery adjacent and she picks some up, serving herself some fruit and two rolled up crepes. Eurus knows body image is a difficult subject within the fashion industry. Neither of them is perfect with eating, Eurus forgets to or can’t due to texture sensitivities... mostly forgetting though.

  “ Yeah, well – either you can beat him up or we’ll have to do it ourselves. I honestly couldn’t give less fucks about what happens to me, I can just pass it off. ” 

Arms reaching up to settle behind his head, Elliott sighed and closed his eyes. Nodding as she mentioned the scissors she had thrown, he glanced around the room conspicuously. He noticed them almost immediately due to the way the overhead light shone on the handle, glinting in his range of view. “ Wall, sweetheart, ” he noted – kicking the shoes that he was wearing off on the other end of the couch. 

“ No thanks, not interested at the moment. Unless you want another visit from grumpy pants, it’d be best if I stayed functioning. ” 

“Ash hates that I have to fight Him sometimes. I wish it was easier to tell him he’s my home, and what James does doesn’t and never will change that. That all I care about it wanting Ash to be healthy and feel safe...” Eurus finds the scissors and her brows knit together. She gives a small displeased grunt and pries them from the wall. 

“It’s meant to calm your central nervous system.” She reminds, walks back across the living room to put the scissors away. They have child safety locks on most their furniture. Eurus installed it when Rosie got old enough to open and explore things, but they serve the dual purpose of slowing down James in some capacity.

      The hug is not something you have anticipated and frankly it is too short for your mind to register it and then allow your body to reciprocate. You give the other woman a soft nod and lick your lips. “Do you want tea perhaps? Coffee?” The ever present politeness kicks in. Staring into a cup would be much easier than having to sit in front of each other, you feel, so the suggestion is a bit of a SELFISH one too. You’re not sure IF you would be able to hold eye contact for too long. You are giving her a chance, yes, but it doesn’t erase the fact that your heart is bleeding from the fresh breaks it received today. And you’ve done your crying for today, cheeks RAW from the salty tears that were shed ever so recently. 

“I have my water.” She says, walking stiffly over to the table and sitting down. Eurus plays with the zip on her bag some more, placing it on her lap. Slower and with more detail. That’s what Molly needs. And Eurus has no time to rehearse something more eloquent. It’s all rather raw and messy. She doesn’t wait for Molly to sit too, rather just begins repeating herself.

“I was taken, with John and Mycroft, our captor was playing tricks with me. She knew Moriarty, knew the kind of tricks he played -- like the Bart’s rooftop trick, he threatened the people I care about... but he forgot you. She didn’t forget you.” Eurus uncaps her water bottle, knuckles bone white, but doesn’t drink yet.

“She said there were explosives in your apartment. Said if I couldn’t get you to tell me you loved me, she’d blow you up. She put a coffin in the room with us, to help me guess who was part of the puzzle. When I guess she showed me video footage of your kitchen-- the camera is over there by the way...” she points with her whole arm and finger, and takes a drink of water. 

“I was so scared Molly, I saw a man die in front of me not fifteen minutes earlier... She gave me rules not to let you know it was urgent. I am--- I am so sorry. I couldn’t let her hurt you, she wanted to break me down, and it worked. She used me-- my... my friends... to rattle me up.”

Eurus flexes her hands, the cuts and scrapes ache and sting from when she smashed the coffin. They’re mottled with scabs and bruises, and it had taken so much energy and both John and Mycroft talking her down to keep her from banging her fists against the concrete, or her head for that matter. 

     You give a small shrug, lips pursed in thought. “Well, I have written about addiction, but the article is a few years old. I’m not sure how much more relevancy it holds today.” Now that you think of it, you SHOULD write an update on that topic. 

     “Right now? I don’t think it’ll be too bad.” He’s extending the invitation during their more lowkey hours, before people get off work and venture out for the evening. 

      Your eyes flash, oh and would you look at that, there, right there ——— is that a pout? Doesn’t feel good having your little ticks thrown back at you, no matter how seemingly insignificant they are, does it? So why don’t you just pull yourself together and admit this small defeat? “I STILL don’t need any items.” There may be a lot of clutter and noise in your head, but that’s what your Mind Palace is for; that’s why you spend hours in there, sorting, cleaning, deleting, separating. As soon as all of that is in disarray no toy, no human, nothing could help. ONLY a needle.