he'd never like me

  • random person: *compares Donald Trump to Voldemort*
  • me: YESSSSS.
  • my thoughts: Except he's not a Slytherin -- he's impulsive, rash, hot-tempered, and puts a lot of value on his public image and how people see him...plus he shows no resourcefulness, self-preservation, or loyalty to his inner-circle, since he had multiple divorces and only seems focused on himself. So basically he's an evil Gryffindor! ...Wait. What about Hillary? SHE shows resourcefulness, cleverness, and loyalty to her inner circle...plus she is methodical in her decision-making, can be incredibly flexible, and will kiss up to people to get her way. And of course she was vilified by people who mistook her cleverness for deviousness--OH MY GOD, HILLARY IS A GOOD SLYTHERIN HOLY COW.
2

Rei + being worried about Nagisa (◕‿◕✿)

It was too late. 

He was too late.

His words, though sincere, fell flat.

Molly couldn’t suppress the angry tears, or the accompanying frown. “How dare you?”

Sherlock gaped for a moment, wordless, before managing to speak. “I– I beg your pardon?”

“How dare you say such a thing?” She clenched her fists, her jaw; she squeezed her eyes shut. “I’ve told you countless times, you insensitive prick. Yet you still feel the need to tease and embarrass me, as though I’m some sort of plaything. I’m not an experiment, Sherlock.”

Bewilderment played across his features. “Th-that’s not–”

“Get out,” she said, staring him down.

“But–”

“Get out of my morgue!” She hadn’t stamped her foot, but she may as well have.

Sherlock turned quietly and left.

~

“Rubbish timing,” John said later that evening as he sat at his kitchen table with his friend.

“Rubbish emotions,” Sherlock quipped. “How is it that, with everything else in my mind, I still have room for the damned things?”

John shushed him; Rosie was asleep in the next room. “You’re still human,” he replied quietly.

The consultant leaned forward, face in his hands. “How can I even know for sure what I’m feeling toward Molly?" 

"You do care about her,” John said matter-of-factly. “However, you might have come to me before bungling it up. I still can’t believe you told her you were ‘ready to have a go at a relationship.’”

“Just… help me fix it,” Sherlock said quietly, looking up at his friend. “Please.”

John just stared at him. Sherlock almost never asked for help, let alone politely.

“Fine,” he replied. “I’ll do what I can.”

~

After a sleepless night, Molly decided to call John for advice.

He answered at the first ring. “Molly? I was just about to call.”

“Oh,” she replied. “Did you need me to come over?”

“If that’s alright.” John glanced over at Rosie, who was making a mess of breakfast, and Sherlock, who’d fallen asleep at the table. 

“As long as Sherlock isn’t there,” she said. 

“Oh, he won’t be,” John lied.

When Molly arrived, John answered the door with a grumpy Rosie in his arms. She took the toddler and followed John to his living room, sitting down on the sofa across from him.

“Can I talk to you about something?” Molly asked, gently stroking Rosie’s hair.

“Er, yeah,” John replied. “Of course.”

“Sherlock…” she started. “Sherlock came to my morgue last night.”

John said nothing.

“He… doesn’t know where to draw the line, does he?” She set Rosie on the floor with her toys. 

John pressed his lips together. He was looking at Rosie, but his true focus was on her godmother. He sighed before replying. “How long has it been since the last time he carelessly trampled on your feelings? Months? A year?”

Her eyebrows drew together. It had been a while. “What are you getting at?” she asked.

“Clarify for me,” John said, already knowing the answer. “What did he say to you?”

Molly scoffed. “He told me he was 'ready to have a go’ at a relationship.” She swallowed hard. “With me.”

“Hm.” John thought for a moment before speaking again. “I can see why you think he was taking the mick.”

“Well, he can’t very well be serious,” she replied, leaning forward and resting her elbows on her knees.

Rosie threw her doll at Molly, who handed the doll back saying, “Rosie, remember, we must be gentle with babies.”

Rosie took it back and hugged it before going back to playing alone.

“Why not?” John asked. “Why can’t he be serious?”

Molly smiled bitterly. “You know how he is. All logic, no emotion. He prefers drugs to actual human company.”

John shook his head, a smile playing across his lips. “That’s what he wants people to think. He only pretends not to care. He can’t get hurt if he won’t let anyone get close enough.”

She bit her lip. Her heart ached to accept that as truth, but… “Maybe that’s what he wants you to think.” …she didn’t want to take the chance.

“Molly…” John sighed. “I know it’s hard for you to believe or accept, but Sherlock does care.”

She shook her head.

“Molly.” Her gaze darted up to the door, where Sherlock stood with sleepless eyes and disheveled hair.

She turned to John, her voice barely above a whisper. “You said he wouldn’t be here.”

“Molly,” Sherlock said softly, stepping into the room. “Please.”

John stood, picked Rosie up, and left the room. He’d done what he could.

Molly got to her feet, arms crossed, and eyes welling up with tears. “Why, Sherlock?”

He knit his eyebrows. “Why?" 

"Why me? Why now?”

“Why you?” he replied, tentatively stepping closer. “You are kind… caring. You see the best in people. The best in me. You have always,” his voice cracked, “been a good friend. Why now?” He sighed, shaking his head. “It’s not just now. It’s been… too long. I…” He paused. “I wanted you to be happy, and… I didn’t think you could be happy with me.”

The silence that followed was deafening. 

Sherlock mentally counted down. If she doesn’t say anything by the time I reach zero, I’ll just leave, he thought. The heart that had been purposely hardened felt heavier with each passing second. At zero, he turned, but stopped when she spoke.

“How long?” she asked quietly, letting her arms fall to her sides.

“I’m not sure,” he replied, still facing the door. “But… the day you said you didn’t count–it was the day I realized that you do count, Molly. More than anyone. More than… more than me.”

Another pause.

“One chance,” she said.

Sherlock turned back to face her again. “Sorry?”

“I can offer you one chance, Sherlock. If…” She took a breath. “If this is a joke, an experiment, or anything like that, you’ll tell me right now. If I find out on my own, that’s it. I won’t ever want to see you or hear from you again. Do you understand?”

Sherlock nodded silently.

“Now, tell me: are you serious about this? Do you absolutely mean what you’ve said?” Molly closed her fists, bracing herself for the answer.

He slowly closed the distance between them, leaned down, and kissed her gently before answering.

“Absolutely.”

Renegade Life: No time for haircuts

PSA: Just because you’ve suffered more hardships than a person does not give you to right to dismiss their problems and say “I’ve had worse.” and “You know, that was nothing compared to…..” Their experience does not make it any less painful to them than yours. Not only that, you will also prevent them from reaching out to people when they are dealing with severe problems and force them to deal with their difficulties without the support of others. No one’s emotions are ‘superior’ to others; all of our emotions have equal priority. And remember that crying never makes you weak.

Thanks! Not that I’d really want to kick him either, I mean… let it be known without a shadow of a doubt, Mark Webber could THOROUGHLY kick my out-of-shape *ss. XD

@alosainz replied to your post:
for that sleepover saturday thing!! fuck marry…                

   yeaaah okay you can kick him if you want. we can’t kill him. we’d both feel really guilty and i wouldn’t be able to deal with that lol    

follow for more for glory rage aesthetic

I need to talk about Major Stoner Bilbo and his two Stoner friends Bofur and Ori who all get high as fuck, eat cupcakes, and do dramatic readings of bad romance novels. 

Enter Thorin, Nori, and Dwalin, who are serious hunks and Bilbo, Bofur, and Ori’s Friday nights now consist of them waxing slurred poetry about the hot business men who came into their regular cafe meeting spot.

4

Happy 2-month fishiversary Selkie!!

Including a transformation of his topfin 5.5 gal and a transformation of Selkie himself– his fins used to be nicer, but he’s gained lots of color! He decided his present to me was to start tail biting again and now there’s a little chunk of his tail gone. Selkie, you shouldn’t have.