Latest Posts by mavericksmarmelade - Page 3

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Masking a change of heart. Femlock Fluff

My blush was spreading from my chest up to my neck under her attentive gaze.

"Do you mean it?" I released in a breath I hadn't realised was being held. What would she respond with? Of course Jean, you fit society's expectations of aesthetics? No, she'd be more inclined to wave her hand and in one flourish dismiss me to my date.

"Do you want for me to mean it?" Her right eyebrow was raised and she flitted her eyes up to mine for only a brief moment. Goddammit! That was more than banter. That had to be a flirty rhetorical question. What was I supposed to think? Do? Say? I didn't seem to have time to wonder before she swept the laptop aside and stood to approach me.

She reached for my left arm and touched the sleeve with her fingers and her eyes. My breath hitched as I watched the fabric smoothen beneath her stroke and contour to the curve of my arm. The heat rose to my cheeks and forehead. Damn my disposition for blushing. She could no doubt see my pulse was rising, could feel the blood rushing through my veins. There had been months of flirtations here and there but I'd never taken it seriously. Sherlock was by her own admission disinterested in the subject of romance and sex. I felt an undeniable instinct that this was the moment the final wall would come down.

I had forgotten how loud American tourists were. The man laughed and grinned and spoke in awe of the little garden themed cafe through his whole brunch. His mate just spurred him on enthusiastically like it was his friend's first time in a cafe. After a video was filmed by the American in which he scuttled passed the closed garden door to investigate the downstairs cafe courtyard, he seemed to settle down. I spoke too soon, the food arrived and his enthusiasm peeked an all time high.

"My man look, this place is beautiful!"

He clapped and grinned like a child being given a balloon at a cars sale. Stepping out his chair, he bent to shoot his delectable blueberry waffles for his perhaps few Instagram followers that cared. It was delicious to be fair but it would just add to a sequence of clips of this quote ordinary Brisbane cafe. I felt instinctively that he must have not been to many yet during his stay in Australia but I decided to let him have his fun. It was interesting to watch such a grown man marvel at something that I had been taking for granted. Of course, this was my favourite cafe for it's general hospitality and atmosphere but I had dined there many times in the seven months of living in West End and the novelty was long passed. I guess it reminded me of the beauty of trying new things and exploring new places. That was something I had been striving to do while living in the understated and small city in Australia. Finding little nooks and crannies to spend my free time and think about less important things, less processing and more revelling in simplicity.

I like watching people. That's one thing I've learned about myself. I like observing their reactions and noting the tones and inflections of their voices depending on their mood and their thoughts. I like seeing their clothing and deciding who was comfortable in their apparel and who was simple trying to fit the urban, chic vibe of West End. I'm guilty of the latter myself lately but today I felt like myself. A floral button up, dark green maxi skirt and black suede boots. Not the most practical or moody outfit considering the wet weather but it made me feel the happiest.

I had used almost half of my battery percentage and even more of my data than anticipated due to the blackout at home that morning. But my temperament was maintained due to being out amongst the public, belly full of coffee and blueberry bagels and the warm chatter of people thriving despite the downpour.

Being an English Lit student and into dark academia means every time I wear a white shirt I become a Jacobean Shakesperean actor, Hamlet, Fitzwilliam Darcy, John Keats (all the Romantics, actually), a 17th century pirate and somehow an ABBA member - all at once. And I love it

For my own sake...

I am not a writer in occupation or skill. I simply spend so much time up in my imagination that I feel much of it is worth putting down on a page.

you know what else absolutely broke me about S4? when sherlock is strung out and thin and scruffy and sad and lonely, all he wants to do is die (go back to the script, it’s all there in between), and when culverton is killing him, he says finally, “I don’t want to die.”

wanting to be dead but not wanting to die.

all for the love of a man who beat you bloody and only came to save you because the ghost of his lying wife made him feel guilty.

oh, sherlock.