leaving our home


Subtlety, thy name is Marinette.



While the girls in the class might think they’re sneaking off for a secret makeout session, the boys know better ¬‿¬ 


so i pretend like it doesn’t hurt
i pretend like i’m okay without you
what i haven’t told you is that i can’t delete our pictures, i can’t get your smile out of my head, i can’t think of you without losing my breath and i can’t listen to frank ocean without wondering if you’re listening to him too
do you think about me?
was it easy to let all of it go?
everyone has a choice and my choice was you
i don’t know how to let everything go the way that you did
i wanted to melt with you
i wanted to run away without ever leaving our homes with you
i wanted to come home after a long day and feel like i had everything because i had you
i waited three years to be the girl you kissed goodnight
three years to be the girl you never stopped thinking about
while you took 3 weeks to let me go
—  excuse me while i wait another three years to forget you
I hate to do this, but I’m in a tight spot.

As of yesterday I heard my mom on the phone telling a friend that she was just notified of a 15 day eviction notice. She didn’t want me to hear, which was obvious, but I feel like I can do something to help her. 

My mom is disabled, so she isn’t able to work. She has had multiple strokes and heart attacks, and her liver and heart are both failing. I’m doing my best at the moment to scrape up money to help us, but if we can’t pay off the amount, we will be forced to leave our home. 

That’s why I’m promoting emergency commissions so that i can try to get the money to help pay off the rent and bills. I’ll do full color bust shots like this for 10 USD, and full body shots for 15:

I also know how to do furry art, so that option is open as well:

Again, im really sorry to do this, I feel awful asking, but If we end up being evicted, we will have nowhere to go. If you don’t believe what i’m saying is true, feel free to DM @no1sun as well as @noodlepots if you have any questions. they are good friends of mine and are aware of my mom’s current health.

My paypal is kcrottner@gmail.com, if you are interested at all, please DM me. I finish commissions within the day that they are requested, usually in 2-3 hours. you can DM @whackamadoooodle as well as @fabulouslittlefox to verify this as well, since they have both commissioned me in the past.

If you even read this, thank you. It would mean so much to me if you at least reblogged it so that other people can see.


ADHD parkour

Leaping from one hyperfixation to another 

balancing between too little stimulation so we get distracted and too much stimulation so we get distracted 

climbing over the piles of crap we leave lying around our homes 

Bonus: Ft Rejection sensitive dysphoria: Jumping to conclusions about what insignificant actions of our friends mean. 

Imagine being the last person left in the library because it’s near closing time but instead of shooing you out, librarian!Woozi just patiently waits for you to be done with your work.

Adored by Him (Part 2)

A/N: So I got distracted playing Mass Effect, so I’m sorry if this seems rushed. #itried 

Warnings: Idk last time this made people cry so grab tissues.

Word Count: 1, 450

Your POV 

“Well I am, so please move…I’m sorry” 

“Y/N, wait-” 

This was the tenth time I replayed the past events in my head. I feel like I didn’t even take time to think about how Dan felt with all of this? Overwhelmed? Guilty? All I remember was leaving our home, my already red, puffy eyes flickering up to his glossy ones. I didn’t know where to go. I was too impulsive…maybe I should have just lied about what was wrong with me? No. Phil was right the best thing to do is get it off my shoulders. I felt my phone vibrate in my pocket, I let out a big sigh and checked what it was. 

Dan: Y/N where are you?

Dan: Y/N I’m sorry. Are you okay?

Y/N: I’m fine Dan. Pls don’t tell me you’re out looking for me.


Y/N: Daniel

Dan: look you left, and we need to talk about this.

Y/N: Hard pass

Dan: you can’t just “hard pass” your way out of this.

Y/N: Just did.  

I closed my eyes, looking up at the beautiful London night sky. It was mostly just black, but with some stars scattered in different places lighting up the sky. I guess there’s something to calm me down. That thought quickly escaped my mind when I felt my phone vibrate again. 

Phil: Found you

Y/N: sounds like ur bout to murder me m8

Phil: Shut up, turn around. 

I sat up on the bench, and twisted around in my seat to see Phil standing a few feet away. The moment I made eye contact with him all I could see was sympathy in his eyes. I almost broke down crying again but I was already drained from the previous crying. I got up from the bench and ran towards Phil, he caught me in a warm embrace. After a few moments, we pulled away and I tried my best to give him a small smile. 

“You need to talk to Dan.” Phil said in a very stern voice. 

“Not you too.” I groaned, rolling my eyes. 

“Avoiding your problems isn’t going to do anything to help." 

"Please don’t tell me you told Dan where I was.” The second after I said that, I heard a relieved gasp from behind me. I turned around, but I was greeted with someone throwing their arms around my waist. I almost instantly knew who it was. Black coat, scruffy brown hair, and that distinct scent that emitted off of his body. Dan. I felt my throat go dry, and my heart rate increased. I started shaking my head, and pushed Dan off of me.

“My job is done. See you guys back home.” Phil laughed. I stared at him with a questioning look. Why was he LAUGHING at this?  

“Dan I told you not to-” I turned my attention back to Dan, but I was still avoiding eye contact.

“My turn to interrupt you. Let me talk.” Dan put his finger up so I would stay silent.

“Dan please. I know what you’re going to say and-” Before I could even say the rest of my sentence, Dan grabbed my cheeks and pulled me in for a warm, soft kiss. I wanted to reject it, because I knew he was taken. He was dating a beautiful, adventurous girl that I could never be compared to. But I couldn’t help myself. I melted under his touch and as cheesy, and cliché as it sounds, the kiss felt magical. He pulled away and smiled at me.

“Can I talk now?” He smirked, still holding my cheeks. I felt my face heat up, and I knew that my face was super red. I was still caught up in his kiss. I still felt his lips lingering on mine even though they weren’t even there.

“Why did you do that, Dan? You’re dating Allison.” Reality hit me, and I took his hands off my face. I stared at the ground after a realization that I’ll never be able to kiss him again.

“But I’m not.” Dan’s voice got softer, and my eyes flickered up to his. His eyes looked at me with care, and love. I felt a spark go off in my stomach, has he always looked at me like that?

“W-What do you mean?”

“I was lying when I said we got in a fight. She actually broke up with me because she knew I still loved you.”

“Wait you…what? Still?” My eyes lit up and I was staring into his wonderful eyes.

“I don’t know where to start really. The moment we met I knew you were going to be this amazing person, and I adored you almost instantly. I spent my time convincing myself I wasn’t good enough for you and that you would never have feelings for me back. So I moved on.” He shrugged his shoulders and now he was the one avoiding eye contact. 

I felt my heart sink, and I tried searching in his eyes to see if I was able to tell if he was lying or not.  

“Then I met Allison. She’s an amazing girl don’t get me wrong; I wasn’t lying when I said I thought I felt something strong with her. That’s only because I was still in denial that I still had feelings for you. Then earlier today when she broke up with me, it did hurt. I thought she was my only chance at having a long lasting relationship because I thought there were unrequited feelings between me and the person I really loved.” He grabbed my hand and stared at it for a while. He started stroking the back of my hand with his thumb and continued talking. “But I lied to you because…I don’t know actually. I felt vulnerable and pathetic." 

"Dan…” I lifted my free hand to his cheek. He leaned into my touch instantly, closing his eyes. I dropped my hand from his cheek and he looked into my eyes again. Looking…guilty? 

“But then you told me you loved me, and that me dating Allison hurt you a lot. I thought ‘damn, only I can fuck up this much.” He chuckled, trying to lighten the mood. “I saw how hurt you were and I felt…well saying guilty is an understatement. So I tried to explain myself, like I’m doing right now. But you being the stubborn bugger you are, you didn’t give me a chance to speak.”  

I didn’t know what to say. I got lost in his eyes for a while. Trying to process everything he said. He loved me? Wait not loved, he LOVES me. I felt so relieved and happy, I burst into happy tears. A change from all the sad tears I spilt that night.

“Oh my god did I fuck up again? What did I say? Y/N are you okay?” Dan let go of my hand and backed away from me, scared that he hurt me again. I shook my head, laughing at his reaction. 

“Yes, I’m okay Dan. I’m beyond okay.” I opened my arms, and wrapped them around his neck. I held onto him tightly, scared that I would choke him, I loosened my grip around his neck. I felt him wrap his arms around my waist, holding me close.  

“I’m sorry for everything I put you through, Y/N. I never intended to hurt you.” He nuzzled his face into my neck. The feeling of his hot breath caused shivers to go down my spine. 

“I know you didn’t Dan. I love you.” I pulled away from him, though I left my arms still wrapped around his neck. 

“I love you too, Y/N.” Dan smiled at me, his eyes flicking down to my lips then back to my eyes.

“Are you thinking of that kiss from earlier too?” I chuckled, leaning my forehead against his. 

“Maybe.” He looked into my eyes one more time before pulling me into another kiss. My hands went up to his hair, and I felt his grip tighten on my waist.

“Maybe we should get out of the cold.” I pulled away to catch my breath.

“That might be a good idea.” He laughed, pulling away from me. 

On the walk back to our flat, we laughed, telling stories of random things that happened to us over the past week. Our hands were intertwined the whole way. I knew this is where I wanted to be, I didn’t have to decide where to go because I already knew. With Dan, I was already home. I finally knew how it felt to be adored by him, and I was never going to let what we have go.

LGB no T.

I am so sick of this. The black community has worshipped dick and centered black men in everything since day 1. Now silly handmaidens and black men who ‘identify’ as black women want to speak over actual black women to prop themselves up. How dare you disrespect our existence and use patriarchy in a dress to make yourselves the focal point of female oppression. It’s called SEXISM not genderism for a reason. Being female has been the sole basis of our abuse and you have the nerve to pretend all of that can be redirected to being about your “mentality”. Get the hell outta here. You don’t get to redefine things to suit your agenda. Now you’re out here peddling the lie that “black trans women” face the highest level of violence. Bull fucking shit. Black women have experienced more violence than ANYONE ever, especially if we are dark skinned. Black people have been enslaved by other black people, whites, arabs and Natives, all of whom raped black women . Some even forced us to breed in astronomical numbers and take care of all the children regardless of color because all we were good for was production. Black women have suffered FGM, have been forced into marriages as children, our bodies have been placed in human zoos for people to gawk at our 'unusual’ figures, our bodies have been used against our will to advance science. Present day black women carry those scars with us because trauma against our humanity for daring to exist while black and female is generational. Not only are we missing and trafficked at ridiculous rates but we are also raped, assaulted and killed under the radar. We have become the punchline for black 'entertainers’ and black men everywhere from our skin tone to our character to our mannerisms to our genitalia to our diction. We get cervical cancer more than anyone but we better not say it because “not all women have a cervix.” 😑 We are the poster children for everything wrong in society. When society talks about welfare queens and single motherhood, they’re not thinking of 'trans’ black women. When we get blamed for “destroying the black community with our feminism”, they’re not thinking of 'trans’ black women. When society talks about black women being ugly and ghetto they’re not thinking of 'trans’ black women. When people approriate our culture and style to give themselves an edge, they’re not taking it from 'trans’ black women. Black women have attitude. Black women are fat. Black women are raising thugs. They’re not talking about 'trans’ black women. Day in and out, black women are society’s scapegoat while all you care about is being able to use the bathroom you prefer and being able to date straight men without opposition. That is what we call a First World Problem. Your identity crisis and the elective surgeries you get to appease it do not take precedent over the global and never ending disrespect of black women. We didn’t have to alter ourselves and go out of our way to be oppressed like you. Just by existing as is, the world has told us that is enough reason to take endless craps on us. Stop acting like black men haven’t always found it ok to fight black women like men because our blackness allegedly discounts our womanhood. Stop acting like black men haven’t embedded it in their mind that black women are not human but their mules to take care of them when life is hard, only to be discarded when they become successful. Stop acting like black girls aren’t constantly robbed of our innocence with assault and dubbed 'fast’ so our pain is overlooked and our fault. Stop acting like people haven’t always called black women, men because we are the antithesis of white beauty standards. Stop acting like every woman doesn’t get an ego boost on our backs. We are woman enough to be raped, trafficked, called bitches and hoes but too 'manly’ to reap the finances, protection and reverence patriarchal society’s claim to give women. Stop acting like black women are not abused physically, psychologically, emotionally and financially and haven’t always been by white society, black society and everyone in between. Acting like you have it so hard when we have always been treated like an other just for being born. “The most disrespected and least protected person on the planet is the black woman.” - Malcolm X He said black woman. Not black 'trans’ woman. Cis privilege my ass. You think because you’ve been feeling for the last year what black women have been feeling since FOREVER, that you have it worse? You are only experiencing a sliver of what we get anyway. It’s just that typical fragile masculinity you were born into that has you thinking you are the peak of oppression. You went your whole lives ignoring and/or capitalizing on the degradation of black women because your maleness allowed you to put it on the back burner. Your internal issues with gender did not negate the external privilege you received. But now that you 'identify’ as one of us, we need to make you a priority or you slander us with poor reverse psychology. How narcissistic can you get? Womens rights are only worthy of attention when you are involved? “TERF” is not a thing btw. Stop using racism, sexism and homophobia to make yourself valid. You cannot compare white privilege, male privilege and straight privilege to this nonsense. Women have never had privilege. Or do you just wanna ignore the last thousands of years? You were born on the side of privilege and into the dominant oppressing class. Now you want access to a marginalized group with no questions and throw tantrums when we say no. It’s almost like your male privilege conditioned you to force yourself onto women at any cost and taught you how to play victim when women don’t fall for your shit. You want equal footing in womanhood but won’t hesitate to remind us you “have it worse”. You want to call lesbians bigots if they exclusively like women and vagina… because hey, how dare some women not want penis in any way, shape or form. Blasphemy! You have no concern for women in shelters fleeing abusive men. You invade their spaces and tell them to suck it up if they don’t like your dick and masculine energy. You say nothing when born males use their advantages to dominate female sports. But you’re the victim, right? I will say it again. It’s called SEXISM, not genderism for a reason. You don’t get to keep playing the “being born in the wrong body is not a privilege” card to ignore your advantages and complicity at our expense. Gender identity issues are low priority in comparison to everything else. Every day black women leave our homes, we are subjected to antiblackness and misogyny just for being ourselves. Doesn’t matter how we dress or speak, it is hurled our way just for being in a female body via a black package. It will be a cold day in hell before those born male and their delusions get to define womanhood but those of us born female and our realities that came with it don’t. Yes, we are the arbiters and gatekeepers of womanhood and it pisses you off there’s nothing you can do about it except rally your naive liberal handmaidens and scream TERF. Interestingly enough, there are countless instances of 'trans women’ raping, assaulting and killing women but not ONE woman has done that to you. Yet here you all come… into our spaces IRL and on the internet to force yourselves onto us. Why don’t you go after the men who fuck you in private but don’t want to publicly be seen with you and take your lives with the same gusto? Is it because you have no privilege over them and instead, it’s easier to gang up on the 'weaker sex’? It’s almost like you devalue women so much, you wanna speak over, redefine and attack us all while blaming our words for violence against you… well what do you know, patriarchy strikes again. We will not give into your demands. We don’t negotiate with terrorists. (If misgendering you is 'violence’, well propagating existent violence against us is indeed terrorism.) 😊

#blackfeminism #feminism #womanism #womenfirst #saynotopatriarchyinadress

ho boy im so grateful that jack is always here to talk to us and will actually listen to our feedback so he knows when we arent happy about something

i mean its already so rare that this community is unhappy but if anything happens he never makes bullshit excuses and is always upfront and honest and will address the problem before it even becomes a problem

so many youtubers are completely unreachable or just ignore constructive feedback completely and shove it in the same category as hate?? listen to your fans!!! they have valid shit to say!!!!!! there is nothing more frustrating than not being heard as a community!!!!


shinee as i see them

i got an ask recently asking me to get fake deep talk about how i personally see the shines, so…here we go ;; disclaimer: this has far too many metaphors but am i supposed to stop myself? the answer is no. enjoy :’)


you gotta start with the leader, right? now, i’ve always found jinki the hardest to place. i’m always running my mouth off with metaphor after metaphor about all of the members, but..i’ve never quite understood what to associate with jinki. in the end, i think that’s what makes him cosmic. jinki is something i can’t quite understand. he’s the member who most prefers to keep his shinee life on a different plane than his home life. he shows us a part of himself, but the rest of him is such a mystery. he’s such a galaxy in his existence to us. a universe full of so many endless sparks of life and love in all that we can see. his voice, his smile, his laugh, his stage presence, he just wraps us up inside his cosmic whirls in the first moment we see him. in a flash we’re surrounded by awe inspiring swirls of something so much more beautiful. his tones envelop us in warmth and his movements pull us toward the stars. it’s only when we’re fully immersed within the galaxy that is jinki do we realize how little we really know about where we are. we can see what’s around us, but we don’t know what lies in those furthest recesses of who he is. that, i think, only makes this that much more beautiful. he is remarkable in what we can see, and even more in what we cannot. jinki is a mystery, but we all can’t help but fall in love.


for the past few weeks i’ve been in the dead of winter, and that’s where i’ve seen jonghyun. jonghyun, to me, finds his place in the winter night. whether cold and biting in the still air, or brisk and sharp with whipping frosty winds, he’s there. he exists not as a counter to the cold that’s outdoors, no, but he exists hand in hand with the cold. his big eyes sparkle like the moon off the snow drifts, while his smile makes his little teethies twinkle like near-fallen icicles. his hair, often dyed the frostiest white, exists in tandem with the crystals of ice that frolic in the air all around. all pretty parts of him shimmer like the cold still world around him. jjongie just…reflects everything about a cool night. there’s a sort of..solace…that comes with jjongie. and when i say solace, i don’t mean loneliness. i mean solitude. a gentle, quiet, comfortable sense of aloneness. when i think of this aloneness in the midnight air, my mind turns to blue night radio. jonghyun, alone, in his little corner of the world, truly at peace. in the smooth winter air that flows through that radio station, he shows us how we can be alone..together. we can feel what he feels without ever seeing his face. we can understand his thoughts without ever speaking to him. we can love without ever leaving our homes. the blue stillness of a winter midnight, with the calm comfort of blue night radio….that is where jjongie belongs.


now kibum…kibummie exists to me in shades of red. from the softest shade of pink, in how he bares his soul to us through unexpected moments of raw truth and clarity about himself. soft in his care for the people around him. gentle in the rare and real moments where he uses his struggles to inspire others to never give up. quiet in how he holds in so much pain sometimes…preciously, gorgeously, beautifully pink in all of his subtleties and secrets. here to the sharpest most poignant shade of scarlet. sharp in his movements, so sure of who he is and what he needs to be. cutting in his every look, in both senses of the word. cutting in his onstage actions, ones of unhindered confidence and unbridled talent. in this sharp shade, we find something special. nothing more and nothing less than he needs to be. his every move is calculated and right on target, yet his enthusiasm is unparalleled. you can feel his passion, blood red, in the way he smiles after a performance. you can see his desire with fire in his eyes while he stands up on that stage. his fears are in crimson that haunts the edges of his vision, but his joy is a ruby red that sparkles in the sunlight. and his passion is in deep scarlet, coursing through his blood in that camoflaged hue. his dedication is in wine, aged in this course of a lifetime. kibummie expresses his soul in shades of red, and in this moment, we can’t look away.


minho is a sunday morning. i’ve rambled about this before (oodles of times tbh) but i’m always willing to go on and on about this. choi is just..one of the most comforting souls the world is blessed to witness. he is warm, caring, hes passionate about the people he cares about, and he contains an ever present adoration for the world he’s in contact with. i call him a sunday morning because..have you ever woken up early on a weekend? have you ever just woken up for no reason other than to be awake? sunday mornings are so beautiful. hardly anyone is awake on a very early sunday morning. the only sounds that you can hear outside your open windows are the quiet chirps of birds outdoors just starting to wake up for their day. you can hear a car drive past every few minutes. you can hear the wind gently rustling through the trees out in your front yard. but that’s about it…you hear the quiet sounds that surround your own home. sunday mornings have a way of comforting you even when you didn’t think you needed them to. the air outside is near still, only flowing gently enough through your windows to slightly brush against your skin as you sit with a cup of coffee by the windowsill. sunday mornings are where love blooms within yourself. minho is like a sunday morning because he inspires love within all of the people around him. he is the comfort of the still air, the soft care of the sun upon your skin, the warm tingle of the coffee mug upon your fingertips. he is comfort and love…like sunday morning bliss.


now taemin…i feel like i’ve run all over the place with how i talk about taemin. i’ve called him a light, i’ve called him darkness, i’ve called him endlessly unexplored forests, i’ve called him calm morning snow, this list goes on (far too endlessly pfjfdjgft) but the one thing that stays the same is nature. taemin is a natural beauty. he has so much beauty, so much talent, so much (albeit adorably awkward) love built into him. and some can say he’s simply blessed, but i don’t think that’s true. genuine natural beauty doesn’t just come through untouched existence..you have to work for it. you have to tend to your cares and cultivate your worries and care for each and every little seed that’s been planted in your life. and that is just what taemin does. he is expression of natural talent through endless effort and unwavering strength. he is blood sweat and tears. he is the seed and the sprout and he is the water and sunlight that tends to it. taemin knows what he can be and will never stop working until he reaches that goal. i think that’s why he’s so eye catching in everything that he does. so often we can find ourselves blankly staring out into a natural scenescape, in awe of the beauty that the world works to withold…that same natural beauty is flowing from taemin in his every moment that he performs. like a horizonline at dusk, or forested treetops during a storm, or rolling clouds on a windy day, he is eye catching..hypnotizing….infinitely beautiful. he is, naturally, taemin.

Concept: The Great Hall

We’re all vikings and there’s a winter storm raging outside. The severity of the storm has prompted everyone in the village to leave our homes and gather in the Great Hall.

Though the storm rages outside, its sounds are muffled by the strong, sturdy walls of the Hall. Inside we are all safe and warm. Many sit together by the central hearth, while others are spread out among the nooks, crannies, and rafters of the large space.

Some sleep beneath thick blankets, while others simply sit to listen, think, eat, or observe. There is room enough for all to have the space they need in the Great Hall.

Those who sit by the fire share jokes and stories, sometimes loudly, sometimes in dramatic whisper. Plans are made for the far-off Spring that will surely come. Everyone, from the children to the elders, are given their turn to be heard, and all are given full attention when they speak.

No one knows how long the storm outside will last. It could be hours, days, or weeks. But nobody is concerned about it. Inside the Great Hall, there is plenty of wood for the fire, plenty of food and drink to go around, and everyone in the village is safe and accounted for.

We’re all here, safely gathered in, and enjoying our time together as we weather the storm.

Benevolence 6

6/20 Get some background on how Taeyeon got back into Baekhyun’s life. Baekhyun’s health has been messing up and he’s been acting strange around Taeyeon, not only that you get to jump into Y/N’s past life (her past may trigger some people and it’s based off of my personal experiences with my own mother)


Word Count: 2,594

                             Y/N  at 14 years old

“Stop hitting me!”, I heard her scream and shove him off of her, it made me sick. I could feel all of the bumping against walls and shoving against tables. It frustrates me to no end. My own damn mother being abused just a few rooms away from me. The worst part of this all is the fact she isn’t sick, or mentally ill and doesn’t know any better. She’s 47 years old and her boyfriend is 24, she’s fully aware of the fact that him beating on her is completely wrong her only excuse is that she knows she’ll hurt him if she fights back.

He wasn’t even supposed to be here, if brother knew my mom was dealing with the same shit she was dealing with back home her little boyfriend would be gone in an instant. What really pisses me off is when my mother says if my brother ever decides to stay that her boyfriend has to go? What about me and my respect as a person living in this house? Do I need to hear him brag about the fact that he might’ve given you an STD from how many girls he’s cheated on you with? I hate whenever my mom tells me about how not to let a boy disrespect me and how I’m not allowed to have a boyfriend yet I have to put up with hers everyday. 

I didn’t even want one at this point, all of her bad experiences with men fucked me up honestly. I guess the one good thing you’ll always be able to say about my mother was that she was always honest with her kids. My older brother is 9 years older than me he was the only planned pregnancy at only 17 years old, meaning she was in a relationship with my brother’s father for a little over 20 years.To put it simply, she’s been allowing men to abuse her, her entire life. However, the man she’s dealing with now is worse than ever, he extremely rude and abusive not only to my mom but continuously makes comments towards my little sister. I just don’t understand why he doesn’t have the guts to say anything to me. My mom says it’s because of the vibe I pull off, that I’m a good judge of character. She gets so pissed whenever I threaten to tell my brother, she then threatening to take away some of privileges including my sewing machine. 

Breaking me away from my thoughts I heard my door swing open and shut, looking up to see my mother standing there panting with frustration, tears ready to roll down her cheeks. She was embarrassed she knew I heard all of the disgusting things he said out there. Every time they fought like this she’d run to my room to tell me that she was being stupid and that I shouldn’t ever accept this treatment. It hurt me a little knowing that she was also only coming in my room because her little boyfriend didn’t have the guts to. Her words meant nothing to me as she knew that I was uncomfortable with him living in my house.

“Don’t, I’m so tired of having this talk with you over and over again mom.”, I snapped turning away from her, she disgusted me in so many ways. I didn’t hate my life she got me the things I wanted, I never asked for much. Most of the time I’ve never gotten them exactly when I wanted them but still, I got what I wanted and I always took care of my things. One thing I can’t stand is misplacing anything, we were homeless due to her fuck ups 3 years ago. My older brother’s father had just gotten out of prison feeding my mother lies and bullshit about marriage and happily ever afters. She had completely ignored the fact that he cheated on her their entire relationship before prison I don’t know why she thought anything would change. Once she found out that he wasn’t really going to ‘mandatory work’ but to the same woman’s house he was cheating on her with she broke down. She quit her job, started smoking cigarettes again and got us evicted. 

No, this isn’t like other stories where we were forced to leave our homes, she chose not pay rent because she wanted to move away to Florida. We didn’t end up going of course, we lived in hotels for almost year. Forced to throw away some of my favorite belongings, scared of whether or not we’d have enough money to spend another night in a hotel. The last few months we were forced to stay at shelters, I hated it more than anything, now we’re here while she’s repeating the same mistakes.

“You know it’s not okay to be treated like that Y/N, the only reason why I’m not fighting back is because I know I’ll hurt him.”, She spoke as if she was a responsible parent. “I’m really sorry you had to hear what he said.” I turned back around to see a tear rolling down her face. That’s once thing that always made me so confused her sadness, if she was tired of disappointing me or having her little boyfriend work her nerves why not just end this all?

“Clearly you’re not that sorry.”, I deadpanned she wasn’t sorry and neither was he, when you’re sorry for something you did you stop doing it. You can only make a mistake once and certain ones twice anything after that is no longer a mistake it’s a choice. My mother wasn’t a weak and stupid woman she just didn’t know how to fucking say no to that bastard.

“Y/N, watch how you speak to me, yes I’ll have my man disrespect me but I will not allow my own children to.”, She spoke firmly towards me.

“Why should I respect you when you let someone who clearly respects no one around your children? He knows I’m in here mom, yet he said all of those things knowing I could hear it.”, I snapped at her, this is what pissed me off. When she tried to justify what she was letting him do but then not allowing us to do the same thing.

“Remember what you promised you’d do for me?”, She asked ignoring my question. We both knew exactly what she was talking about and honestly I was just doing it prove it her that I’m stronger than she is. I promised to not have sex with more than one person, I was only to have sex with the person I was to marry. She wasn’t worried about be being abused she was actually worried about me doing the abusing, I was never one to obey a male. Since my father passed away when I was 2, I didn’t remember anything about him but, I was always told he was a responsible parent. I couldn’t look up to my brother because he’s still doing everything except what he’s supposed to be doing as responsible parent, yes his dumb ass had a baby at 16 years old. I grew up around boys so I’ve never been scared to hang out with a male. Whenever I was at school boys were disrespectful as well so I’ve never really given a fuck about the male species. Yes, I found them attractive and yes I’ve watched porn and got turned on. I just never had a need to ask a male or anyone for that matter for affection or assistance. I’ve always done everything on my own. 

“I know and unlike any promises you made I intend to keep mine at whatever the cost.”, I responded.

“You’re not like your brother and sister, it’s too late for me to try and save your brother and I can already tell your sister might follow down my path but, you, you’ve never taken shit from anyone.”, She stopped to let out a laugh “Y/N, you have grown men scared of you.”

I knew I did and I like it that way, leave me the fuck alone, I like being alone it’s way less dramatic this way. I barely leave the house anymore as is, can’t I at least enjoy being in my own home? The saddest part of this all no matter what happens in the future a part of me will always be disgusted with my own mother, because she has a choice in all of this she just continues to let it happen for her own selfish reasons.

“Mom, I hate you I’m just letting you know. It’s not the teenage kind of hate I really hate you for what you’re doing and what I have to deal with because of it.” She looked shocked and almost hurt by what I had said but, it was the truth…..

Three months later.

After the day I told my mother I hated her was the day she got rid of her boyfriend. We never saw him again and she never spoke of him again. 

“I’ll back I’m making a quick run.”, My mom yelled before she was out the door. Those were the last words I had ever heard from my mother. I was at home alone with my little sister for 14 hours. 

Yes, I worried she was supposed to be back way before then but my calls were unanswered. My little sister had been crying for hours wondering why it was taking so long for her to come back. It wasn’t till 19 hours when my brother showed up at the door that I knew something was really wrong. My mother had died in a car accident. My mother had died knowing I hated her and that I was still disappointed in her. The worst part of this all and why to this day a part of me still hates her is because she died going to pick her boyfriend up. They never broke up and he had the audacity to tell me this three weeks after the funereal. I couldn’t help my reaction, I scratched one of his eyeballs so hard that he couldn’t even get a prosthetic eye. The damage for him hadn’t ended there, I was finally able to tell my brother all that was going on and he beat my mom’s ex until he was unrecognizable. My brother served 6 months in jail before he took me and my little sister in forced to moved back to our hometown. At least my little sister was, I study aboard in multiple countries before I moved to Korea.I was never home I was always in another country. I stopped talking to my family completely because everyone knew my feelings towards my mother. Eventually they’ll forget me and that’s what I want, I’ll always keep my promise to my mother and one day whether I’m going to heaven or hell I’ll be able to apologize to her.

  Almost a year ago with Taeyeon and Baekhyun..

Taeyeon and Baekhyun sat face to face on her sofa awfully close. Baekhyun eyes were already streaming tears since Taeyeon had not spoken to him since the night of the break up. He missed her dearly, even though she wasn’t his exact ideal type she made him happy and he knew she would never cheat on him.

“Why’d you have to break up with me?”, He asked voice already searching for pity. The break up was so hard on him, all he did was cry causing his singing voice to get fucked up. Taeyeon was fine as in she was the one to cause this, she didn’t intend to make him like this she just felt unloved.

“I’m almost thirty Baekhyun.”, She chuckled letting her finger trail down his finger and fall down his chin. “I need a man to settle down with me and take life seriously, I don’t want to be an idol forever. You like to go out and party all night while I enjoy staying home…besides don’t you have a girlfriend?”, She asked scooting away from him.

 Baekhyun was so caught up with Taeyeon that he had forgotten about Y/N. His feelings for Y/N were real they just didn’t make him forget about Taeyeon, However he didn’t want to mess up any future with Y/N because of Taeyeon. Shuffling further away from Taeyeon Baekhyun realized what had been happening. Taeyeon was asking to meet with Baekhyun again because she wanted to know more about Y/N. Taeyeon was never too open with just throwing herself at people and it would’ve been even more awkward for her knowing she was dating Baekhyun. 

“You didn’t even want to see me you just wanted to befriend Y/N. I’m not comfortable with that so stay away from her.”, He snapped getting off of Taeyeon’s sofa.

“So you coming over here to see me was any better.”, Taeyeon blurted out before covering her mouth. She wasn’t the type to blurt things out like that and it kind of turned Baekhyun on.

“Stop Taeyeon, I love Y/N.”, He spoke trying to convince himself.

“I’m not doing anything wrong, you are if you love her go to her and stay away from me.”, Taeyeon snapped getting off of the sofa as well. “I wanted to befriend Y/N because of my own reasons you clearly aren’t that in love with her if you’re here with me.”

“I just wanted closure!”, Baekhyun snapped tears rolling down his face, Taeyeon always had a way of doing this to him making him feel like a child like he was completely beneath her. He’s sure she doesn’t mean to make him feel bad about himself but, he was still a grown man and wanted to be treated like one.

“I told you what you needed to hear Baekhyun whatever we had is over, I refuse to step into someone’s relationship.”, She raised her voice which was very unlike Taeyeon to do. “Stop loving me, it’s that simpl-” before she could finish her words Baekhyun’s lips were on hers before they fell onto the sofa.

This continued for 3 weeks before Taeyeon finally admitted she was still in love with Baekhyun. She then became a little selfish wanting to see Baekhyun all the time making him forget plans he had with Y/N. She eventually realized that something needed to be done so she didn’t have to sneak around with Baekhyun anymore.

“I want to move in to your apartment.”, She blurted out of nowhere one night after having sex.

“No, this has to end anyway and I have to tell Y/N and beg for her forgiveness.”, He said bluntly before removing himself from Taeyeon’s mattress. She didn’t want it to end yet she had to do something.

“Why not have us both? If she truly loves you then she will accept it. You have needs Baekhyun.”, She grabbed his back “Why are you letting her decided everything? The three of us all together makes you feel better than sneaking around doesn’t it?” Baekhyun didn’t know how to react he loved them both Taeyeon maybe a little more, so he went with her plan. It’s just that he ended up taking things into his own hands more than she wanted him to. Now all three of them are stuck in a mess at least Baekhyun and Taeyeon are.

Bitch, you ruined my relationship let’s not play victim.” Kai spoke towards Taeyeon as he waited for Baekhyun in the kitchen…

 yes the mc may seem like a hypocrite but remember the fact that a lot of children who see their parents being abused follow in their footsteps, NO my mother is not dead and no our relationship is not fuck up nor am I, it’s always been in my mind that if I ever allowed my anger towards her actions to turn into hate something like this could’ve happened it’s because of the fact that she talked me through everything that I’m okay though it does make me not have a lot of pity or forgiveness for a lot of people when it comes to things But anyways hope you enjoyed 


Originally posted by imaginemycroftholmes

Originally posted by sherlockjw


Sherlock x reader

A/N: I’m a recently converted Sherlockian and couldn’t get this idea out of my head. 

Summary: an American forensic psychologist hired by Mycroft Holmes. You thought it would be more interesting and fulfilling than your previous job with a law firm in London but you had no idea how much it would change your life. Or really, how much one person would change everything.

Word Count: 3260

Chapter One

It was your third MI-6 interrogation and no one else had the clearance to be in that area let alone the observation room where you were positioned. Mycroft Holmes sat in the box, a tiny interrogation room, questioning the man believed to be a high-level hit man in a terrorist organization but the information he gave had been tricky at best. To make the necessary moves, Mycroft had to be completely positive or they’d give away their advantage.

You sat at a desk in the observation room behind the two-way mirror that was only slightly bigger than the box. The desk was clear except for your pad of paper, two pens, and a thin microphone that connected wirelessly to the tiny earbud in Mycroft’s ear. With a pen poised over the paper, you focused on the man simply known as the IceMan. Behavioral analysis was your specialty, and in this case, you were tasked with finding if the man had lied or embellished any of his information. Your career so far had been made on finding the truth and your extensive training with body language and micro expressions made you highly qualified, but it required all of your attention to be on your subject thus the quiet, empty room you sat in.

Mycroft had finished a long series of questions to give you a proper baseline and he resituated himself before going in for the kill. Even though you could only see the back of Mycroft’s head you could picture that smile he always wore when he knew something he believed no one else did. You’d only been working for him for three months but he always had such a flare for drama. You had warned him that anyone trained or knowledgeable about certain tactics would see right through him. He smiled and thanked you for your input but never changed. He was always the smartest man in the room, after all.

You made sure the microphone wasn’t on before cursing his peacocking. “Idiot. I’ve warned you about flaunting.”

The IceMan made an odd movement and you leaned forward and listened closer to Mycroft’s question. A quick upturn at the corner of his mouth and his eyes hardened for just a split second. You pressed the microphone button. “He doesn’t agree with the way you’re laying out the facts.”

Mycroft switched a few words and there was no change but you noticed another anger tick with his nose. “Well hello, IceMan. Now we’re getting somewhere.” You pressed the button, “go back to the children’s hospital bomb.” You quickly wrote down,

-no harm to children

-have a child?

-hospital bomb broke allegiance?

Mycroft read out the details of the hospital bomb and a range of emotions crossed the man’s face. Disgust, anger, and sadness. “Grief. You don’t like hurting kids, do you?” You pressed the button, “that’s what splintered the alliance.”

Mycroft continued with the rest of the information IceMan had given and you didn’t see any sign of disagreement until the last point. You pressed the button, “wait. Something’s off with the Parliament tip.”

Mycroft called him out on it and his nostrils flared again. “Got ya.” You pressed the button, “he doesn’t believe a word he just said.”

The IceMan actually looked a little defeated as Mycroft threatened to rescind the agreement. IceMan revealed he had only heard whispers but used that one to ensure his safety. You would’ve felt bad for him if not for the fact that he seemed delighted by the idea of blowing up Parliament. “He’s telling the truth about someone wanting to do it but he’s got nothing solid. He’s just rambling now to make up for it.”

With a glance down at the phone, you realized you’d been sitting there for two hours. You stood up and stretched your back out while watching Mycroft slide the pen and paper across the metal table to IceMan before standing up himself. He turned toward the mirror, straightened his tie, and buttoned his jacket then smiled.

“Preening doesn’t look good on you, Mycroft.” You rolled your eyes then heard a muffled noise behind you.

You spun around in surprise and a tall man was standing against the back wall of the room. “He was always like that.”

“Who the hell are you?”

He smiled but it wasn’t genuine. “Just an interested party. I overheard a few things about you and wanted to see for myself. I’m curious how you could deduce where exactly his lie was.”

“Deduce?” That word along with the familial similarities tipped you off. “Sherlock Holmes. I’ve heard about you too. I thought you’d be shorter.”

Disgust flared the corner of his upper lip. “My brother, no doubt.”

You chuckled, “I see the rivalry clearly goes both ways.”

He moved away from the wall with very calculated steps around you. “So, how did you do it? What tipped you off?” He glanced down at your notes. “A child? What makes you think he could possibly have a child?”

“My expertise, in this case, is behavior and micro expressions. I thought you said you heard about me?”

He eyed you as if reading lines on the page of a book. “Yes, but a face doesn’t give enough information.”

“As a whole, no. But in a certain setting, you can learn what you need in someone’s face.” You could see the doubt. “I’m sure you’ve gained some insight by the way people react to what you say. We react every day to emotions we see on people’s faces even if we may not realize it right away. I pay very close attention to what they’re trying not to show in this case. He had a momentary flare of disgust, anger, and sadness when Mycroft spoke of the children’s hospital bomb. If he just genuinely didn’t like to hurt children then disgust and anger would have been it but sadness added in a bit of something personal. It’s possible he had a child but that would be difficult to say definitively without more time spent with him delving into that area seeing how a child can mean different things to different people; burden or gift, legacy or dream crusher, stressor or future caregiver, and sometimes all of the above in their time.”

The corner of his mouth quirked up and a split second flash of surprise before he slipped back into a blank slate. “People hide things all the time, they can train to beat things like lie detectors.”

He was testing you. You had nothing but your gut and what little you knew of Sherlock to know it but it still annoyed you all the same. He snuck in here to watch and then push your buttons. You’d had enough of that since starting your position under Mycroft. You didn’t know why he would be here and you hated not knowing.

“Everyone wears a mask, Mr. Holmes. I’m sure that’s what you’re getting at. Every day we leave our homes and play the part society has decided is decent and civil but certain emotions can’t be completely hidden especially when we’re trying to hide them. Micro expressions are deeply ingrained and you can tell yourself you control what you show the outside world but you can’t erase biological wiring. It’s a split second action that betrays you, sure some have learned to beat lie detectors and some are very good but I could use equipment, a high-speed camera, for instance, and I would be able to spot your wiring betraying you. When you’re pretending, even if you’re the greatest actor, it’s extremely difficult to conceal a micro expression. Whether you’re not truly feeling something you’re showing or trying to hide something. I’ve never seen or heard of it happening when someone trained is watching. Of course, you need context and a baseline for each person but those are specifics I’m sure would bore you unless you were interested in the training.”

The corner of his mouth quirked up. And you continued, “for instance, I know the idea of wearing a mask appealed to you. You wanted me to think you found it humorous but in fact, you didn’t really think it was funny at all. I actually get the feeling you do that a lot, show people what you think they should see or want to see to get what you need.”

His smile fell, “you’ve been talking to my brother.”

“We work together, of course, we talk.” He quirked his brow and you walked up to him canceling out the remaining space between you. It was closer than decency called for and he had to look sharply down to keep eye contact. You registered his surprise. “He said his little brother was a detective and a fairly good one at that. But I can see the flair for dramatics runs in the family.”

“I don’t flaunt…”

You interrupted him as you pushed up on your tiptoes leaning on him with the slightest bit of pressure. “So, you were in here for that part. Just wanted to know how long I was being stalked.” You reached around him and picked up your file, pad of paper, and pens before stepping back and placing them all together in the crook of your arm.

You walked toward the door, “by the way, your eyes are dilated.” You smirked as you looked over your shoulder, “it’s not that dark in here, you should probably get that checked out.” You left the room and had to bite your lip to keep the large grin off your face.

Too bad he was such an ass, he was attractive up close.


You were sitting at your desk filling out more paperwork for Mycroft and cursing the government’s need for such detailed reports from every person involved in a case. The alarm on your phone went off alerting you to your one o'clock appointment with Mr. Galen, an operative that also worked under Mycroft. You sighed, dreading the next hour where he would try to conceal how much he stared at your breasts.

You slipped a sweater over your blouse then tried to finish your notes on the document. The door opened and he walked in but the cadence was wrong. “I’m sorry but I have an appointment in a few minutes.” You glanced up and found the last person you’d expect, “Mr. Holmes?”

He was standing in the middle of your office looking around then smiled. “Mr. Galen regrettably had to reschedule. I was here so,” he turned and walked over to the couch.

“I’m sorry, are you saying you want this hour?”

He sat down. “Would you object?”

You looked down at the mind-numbing document you were almost finished with but had four more just like it underneath. You leaned back in your chair and watched him wondering what he was really here for. You were confident that you got your point across when you met him last week but you still didn’t know why he had snuck in to watch you in the first place. The question still nagged at you now. “How did you find out about this opening?”

“I just happened to be in Mycroft’s office when Mr. Galen was given an assignment and he had mentioned the appointment. Quite upset he had to miss it.”

“And you just happened to be looking for a psychologist?”

“So, that is your professional title?” His gaze moved to your display of credentials on the wall behind you.

“Since I have an hour.” You closed the file and indicated the chair near the couch. “Would you prefer me in that chair or this one?”

He met your gaze and raised his brow, “normal protocol, Doctor.”

You smiled despite yourself. “That is normal. Would you feel more comfortable if I stayed over here or joined you?”

The corner of his mouth quirked up, “wouldn’t you be able to read me better if you were closer?”

“That’s not what these appointments are for. I’m here to help people, not interrogate them.” You furrowed your brow, “I am a psychologist first, Mr. Holmes.”


You picked up a pen and pad of paper then walked over to the chair and sat down. “Where would you like to begin?”

“Isn’t that your job?”

“I’m here to assist you. What would you like me to help you with?” He stared, narrowing his eyes slightly. “Something been troubling you recently?”

“So, people just come in here and whinge?”

You placed your elbow on your knee and rested your chin in your hand, “is that what you would like to do?”

“How dull does this get for you?”

You sat up and smiled, “actually it can be quite interesting hearing a different perspective, seeing a glimpse into another’s life, and quite rewarding when I can help them gain the tools they need to maneuver an obstacle or whatever the case may be.”

His brow scrunched together and he tapped his fingers on the couch. “So you’ve never had someone come in and ask you what was wrong with them?”

“I’m not a magician, Sherlock. There’s no crystal ball. And for the record, I don’t think anything is wrong with you.”

“What? Where would you get an idea like that?”

“You just asked.”

“I was asking about people who come to a psychologist.”

“Therapy is different for everyone. Some just like someone to talk to that they know wouldn’t judge them or they think it wouldn’t matter if they did because they probably wouldn’t see them outside the office. Talking something out with someone can help by getting a second opinion, a different perspective. One person only has what they already know but a second pair of ears or eyes can open a door or catch a missing piece. Seeing a therapist is not like seeing a medical doctor. You are not broken and I can not cure you but I can help you find strengths and give you tools to help you deal with your problems. Sometimes the easiest person to open up to is a stranger with a degree that says she knows some shit about the way the mind works.”

Sherlock tilted his head, “is that an American thing?”

You chuckled. “No, the kids and teenagers love it, though. I’ve found it breaks the ice quite nicely here with adults too.”

“Well then, what if I did ask you to read me like you did the other day.”

“Therapists don’t do that. That’s not something that happens in this room. I’m here to help you, not make a bunch of guesses from what little I know of you.”

His brow rose, “that didn’t seem to bother you last time.”

“You were not a client, you were a stalker that snuck up on me.”

He leaned forward with his elbows on his knees and steepled his fingers before pressing them to his chin. “Play a game with me. That will help me.” He grinned.

“You really want me to just tell you what I’ve guessed about you?” He nodded. You leaned back and placed your hand down on your pad as you trailed your eyes over him. “Should we start with childhood? No, too easy because of Mycroft. School wouldn’t have been easy, being the smartest and standing out in height would not have gone well especially with the secluded childhood and a brother like Mycroft, to be honest. So, you kept your head down and studied, it’s where your strengths were and what your mind craved being highly logical… but finding things easy where others struggled, so even in the overachiever crowd you’d be ostracized. Being the smartest in the room is never easy when it comes to social norms and even harder when those norms seem pointless and a waste of time. I’d say you have little to no circle of confidantes and find detective work suits you rather well when you can work alone but even after a lifetime of doing well on your own, lonely gets boring. So, you came here to talk to someone. How am I doing so far?”

He leaned back and lowered his hands to his lap keeping his face blank, “Mycroft.”

You shrugged. “I collect data in what people say, how they react in situations, and some I guess because of cases I’ve studied, the research I’ve done, the experiences I’ve had and seen myself, and I try to help guide them to solutions. Obviously, I took a little from what I’ve learned from Mycroft, can’t be helped, and I collected some data off your website. I don’t have a degree in deduction, Sherlock. I have a degree in Psych…”

He perked up at the mention of his website. “Fascinating. You actually read the website, what did you think?”

You chuckled. “It’s a lot and I don’t think I’d be very good at it. I’m usually more attuned to people’s behavior.”

He ran his hand down the front of his suit jacket before looking back up, his face less tense. “I recently got a roommate.”

“Interesting. Do you want to tell me about him?”

“His name is John, army doctor recently back home from Afghanistan with a psychosomatic limp.” The corner of his mouth slowly curled up, “loves the thrill of the chase.”

“Not too offended by your bluntness or your habit of showing off?”

Sherlock raised his brow and you smiled. “It’s my job to observe.”

A small hint of a smile before he replied, “not yet.”

You laughed, “sounds like a good man.”

He narrowed his eyes, “just from what I said or has my brother already had you look into him?”

You watched him as you placed your hands on your pad. “We both know your brother and the power that he has at his fingertips. If he wanted to know about your new flatmate, one who has a therapist, why wouldn’t he just get copies of her files instead of wasting his time and mine by having me look into him?” You raised your brow, “is that what you wanted to get out of this? To find out if your brother was looking into you or was there something else you were hoping to sniff out around here?” You smirked as he dropped your gaze and his eyes flitted back and forth for a moment.

He met your gaze and held it steadily as he said, “it wasn’t my intention…”

You cut him off. “Sherlock.” His head pulled back and his eyes widen just a bit. “Let’s agree not to lie to each other because really what would be the point?”

A small genuine smile came to his face. “Agreed. I wondered if my brother would try to interfere further and you seemed like his best bet.”

You grinned, “by the way, congratulations on your case and the upgrade.” His brow pinched for a second and you continued. “Doctor, patient confidentiality does extend to psychologists and since I know your brother, if you wish to continue our sessions here, I will keep a tighter lock on your file in particular.”

He leaned forward, his head tilted slightly to the side as he eyed you, “interesting.”

You looked at the clock, “good. Now that’s out of the way, you have about thirty minutes left. Would you like to talk more about John or is there something else you’d like to talk through? I find a sounding board is very effective in weeding through congested thoughts.”  

His brow popped for a split second before he smirked, “now, that you mention it.”

Next Chapter

Changes | Michael Gray

Request: Can u do a michael gray imagine where he has a son and wife when tommy finds him. He initially meets polly alone and decides he wants to move his whole family to birmingham to work with his cousins but his wife is hesitant. Thanks

Originally posted by mermaidandsirenstales

You were too young, they said. Get rid of the baby, they threatened. You’re a whore, they accused.

You’ve heard it all, you and your husband. You and Michael never cared much for what people had to say or what they thought of his family. He was there to support you through your pregnancy and as soon as you both turned eighteen, he married you the first chance he got.

Ever since your son was born, Henry made sure to put both of you first and for once in your lives, you were both happy. Granted, your families no longer spoke to any of you and you were basically two eighteen-year olds alone, trying your best to care for your one-year old son.

“Henry, close that door. Marly will catch a cold.” You told your husband as you walked through the living area with a basket full of clean laundry you needed to fold. Marly was sleeping on the couch, his nap catching him at an earlier time.

“Y/N come here here for a second, will you?”

You set down the basket of clothes, looking over at your sleeping son and walked towards Henry. Your attention was diverted to a man standing at the door, looking at your cautiously.

“Y/N, this is Thomas. He says my mom wants to meet me.”

You looked at Henry in confusion, as you extended your hand to shake Thomas’s. Henry wore a happy smile, and you smiled at him, your confusion leaving you.

“Nice to meet you,” Thomas greeted. You turned back to him, letting his hand go and nodding your head.

“It’s nice to meet you as well.”

“Y/N,” Henry grabbed your hands in his and took you a couple of steps away from the door. You looked at your husband, his smile never leaving him. “I’m going with Thomas to Birmingham tonight, she’s there.”

Your brows pulled together. He was leaving so soon?

“I’ll be back by tomorrow, love.” Henry gave you a kiss on the lips. He grabbed his coat before you could respond and left with Thomas. You watched them get into an expensive car, and they drove away without Henry looking back at you.

You’ve known that Henry was adopted after his foster family accidentally revealed the big secret to him. They told him his mother was dead, but Henry always told you that he knew she was alive. He was saving up money to hire someone to look for her, and Thomas just showed up, out of thin air it seemed.

Your son began to cry, pulling you from your thoughts. You picked him up, Henry’s eyes staring at you tiredly. You placed your son’s head on your shoulders, slowly bouncing him back to sleep. Your thoughts went back to Henry, he finally found his mother. Although you were happy for him, it just felt so sudden. In a weird way, you didn’t want Henry to have another family. You thought you and Marly were enough for him, but seeing Henry’s eagerness told you different.

Henry came back by dinner the next day. He walked through the door, his face stretched in the biggest smile you had ever seen on him. He took off his coat and hat, placing it on the rack by the door. He passed by you, kissing your cheek and then picking up his son from the floor where he had been playing by your feet as you made dinner. You said nothing as Henry sat at the table with Marly on his lap and you served the food.

You sat yourself down, beginning to eat. You watched as Henry fed your son the soup. You can tell he was itching to say something.

“What is it Henry?”

He looked up at you, a grin still plastered on his face. “She’s beautiful, Y/N. My mom, she’s great.”

You nodded, drinking your water silently.

“She wants to meet you,” Henry turned to Marly. “You and Marly.”

You nodded again, continuing your eating.

“Y/N,” Henry called. Your gaze moved to his, his brown eyes staring at you seriously. “Thomas is my cousin, and I have more in Birmingham. They’ve offered me a job at their company.”

“In Birmingham?” You dropped your spoon. Henry nodded. “You want to move to Birmingham?”

“Yes,” Henry confirmed. You sighed, placing your elbows on the table.


“It’s Michael now. Michael Gray.”

You looked at Henry, his face holding seriousness. You scoffed and stood from your chair. Henry watched as you walked around the table. You picked up your son and turned away from your husband who followed after you. He called your name several times and you shut your bedroom door on him. He opened it swiftly as you placed your son in his crib. He began playing with his toys, paying no mind to you or Henry.

You began taking Henry’s clothes out of his drawers and folding them neatly on the bed.

“What are you doing?” Henry asked from the hallway. You didn’t answer, bringing out more of his clothes. “Y/N.” Henry came up to you, grabbing a hold of your wrists but you pushed away from him.

“You want to move to Birmingham, yeah?” You pulled out a suitcase, throwing Henry’s clothes into it. “Then here,” you shut the suitcase and threw it at Henry. It hit his chest hard, but he caught it anyway. Henry threw it onto the bed as you went to your son and picked him up. “Leave us then,” you said, turning back to face Henry. “Leave us, go live your life as Michael Gray or whoever the fuck.” Your tears were uncontrollable as they spilled from your eyes. Marly began to whine in your arms and you tried to hold him close.

Henry stepped closer to you, but you kept backing away until he had trapped you against the wall. “Y/N, that’s not what I meant. I want you and Marly in Birmingham with me.”

“And we’re just supposed to leave our home?”

“I know this is hard-”

You pushed passed Henry as you interrupted him. “Obviously not, you’ve already planned the move without asking me.”

Henry sighed, following after you as Marly began to cry. “Y/N, stop. I love you, and I love Marley. I would never think to leave you behind.”

You sighed, turning to face Henry at the hallway. You realized that Henry has put you and your son before him long enough, it was time for you to put Henry before yourself. You didn’t have much of a life here anyway, and your son wasn’t old enough to remember this place.

“I’ve never been to Birmingham before,” you commented. Henry smiled, grabbing your son from your arms.

As he bounced the baby on his side, he spoke to you. “It’s nothing like the country.”

You smiled, wrapping your arms around Henry and Marly. You kissed both the boys on the cheek, Marly’s cries beginning to stop. “I’ll think about it,” you mumbled against Henry’s neck.

He kissed your forhead, letting his arm wrap around your body and bring you closer to him.

“I’ll never leave you and Michael behind, even if you say no.”

Weeks passed of Michael getting everything in order. Most days he was travelling back and forth from Birmingham, looking for a place that you and him could live. He had sold your house in no time, including all of your furniture. You had also accustomed to calling Henry: Michael. You thought it fit better anyway and Michael had said mutliple times that he wanted all your last names to be changed to Gray. You didn’t mind, you would gladly take Gray over his foster family’s name.

Before you knew it, you were standing at the train station of Birmingham, holding onto Michael’s hand while carrying your son. You were waiting for Michael’s mother, whom had sent you a letter through Michael after you decided to move to Birmingham after all. She thanked you for allowing her and her son to be together again, and told you how fond of you she was already.

“That’s her.”

A woman walked towards you, smiling from ear to ear. “Is this him?” She asked as she turned to her grandson.

“This is my mother, Y/N.” Michael informed you. “And this is your grandson, Marly.”

Polly stared at the one year old with tears in her eyes, she’d never thought she would see her children again, let alone their children. The hugs that were given next were heartwarming and you found yourself happy in your decision.

Michael, you, and Marly fit into the Shelby’s like a glove. You three were the missing piece and had become as close as ever to the Shelby’s. You learned to love all of Michael’s family like your own, and they soon became a grand replacement to your own family who have cut off any communication with you.

Polly became like a mother to you, and Michael couldn’t be happier with his job, his wife, and his son. And he reminded you of this every day.

You and Michael would be married until your deaths, only having very few fights within your marriage, most of the including Peak Blinders business.

You had more children as you got older, and at every birth, Polly was by your side. You raised your children in Birmingham until Michael decided it was time to move to the country, buying a bigger house than before. Life was peaceful for you and your children, minus times Michael was caught in bad business.

Whatever the case, you and Michael would pull through it and love each other like no other.



Cats and Dogs

Here is my first entry for Juju’s Fluffy Birthday Challenge @jared-padaloveme, for prompt #11.  The cat (Jake) is based off my cat (see cute picture below), and the dog (Barney) is based off my parents’ dog.  The interaction between them in this story is exactly how things go in real life! :)

Summary: You and your cat meet Sam and his dog at the pet store.

warnings: fluffy Sam, dog and cat fighting

word count: ~1200

Originally posted by hunterchesters

You cooed at your kitty in his carrier as you walked into the pet store.  Your cat wasn’t a very outgoing animal – you knew that he hated being out of the house or around strangers in general – but since you were on your way home from the vet you thought he could come in with you while you bought his food and some new toys.

Yes, your cat was spoiled, but he was your baby and you would be damned if you didn’t buy him a new toy or two (or three) every time you stopped at the pet store.

Keep reading

anonymous asked:

I love you and you're wonderful. Your blog always brings a smile to my face, no matter how bad my day has been:) Thank you for that. And you're writing is A+++ I use it as a reward for studying:)

Anon, you are the most actual sweetest, and this comment brought a smile to my face after a rubbish day.

Study hard~

“But I don’t want to,” said Ereinion Gil-Galad, pouting his most appealing pout. 

“You cannot be king of a realm you do not know,” said his father. “Now name the seven rivers that feed the Gelion in Ossiriand.”

“But!” said Ereinion. “But how can I come to know our lands through books and scrolls? To know a country one must walk its roads, drink from its rivers and lay down in its green fields. One must talk with a land’s people on matters great and small.”

“That is an excellent point,” said High King Fingon. “For all that you stole it from your Uncle Maglor’s verse. Well remembered all the same.” He glanced at the bright diamonds of green forest and blue sky shown through the mullioned windows of his study and tried to quiet the longing in his own heart. “A king must also know when to compromise,” he declared at last. “Go pack your saddlebags; it’s time to introduce you to your realms.”

Three weeks later, Fingon and Ereinion stood in that same study, endeavouring to take their scolding with an appropriately kingly mien. Fingon’s husband, who was sat behind Fingon’s desk with his flesh and metal fingers steepled and his eyes shining disconcertingly, cleared his throat. “Well?”

“When you were Ereinion’s age, your father would vanish into the wilds with you at the drop of a hat,” Fingon said defensively. “He wouldn’t even trouble to leave a note.” He gestured to the scrap parchment he had left pinned to his desk with a hunting knife, almost a month before. 

“In Valinor,” said Maedhros. “Do you know what’s interesting about Valinor? There are no dragons there.”

“The dragon was unanticipated,” Fingon said, rather wishing that he were back in Ard-Galen, facing the beast again full grown. His husband’s fangs were as sharp as the dragon’s and his tongue was sharper still.

Unanticipated? So unanticipated you had no choice but to engage in personal combat? He could have died. You could have died!”

“I drew you a picture, Da,” Ereinion said sheepishly, which halted Maedhros’ tirade as abruptly as a volley of arrows halted a dragon’s charge. 

“Thank you, Ereinion,” he managed, the fell light in his eyes dimming as Ereinion held up his gift in nervous, taloned hands. 

“I highlighted the interesting anatomical features and potential weak points,” he said proudly. “Also I drew me with a flamey sword and Papa in a magic dragon helmet and the long one is you.”

“It’s very good. Is that your Papa’s bow? And is the structure of the patagium accurate? That’s excellent. Go call for a bath, Ereinion. You both stink of sulphur.”

“I am sorry,” Fingon said, when Ereinion had left the room. “But no harm was done.”

Maedhros smiled ruefully. “I suppose I of all people can’t criticise you for strolling in and out of danger. Just leave our son at home next time.”

“I will.” Fingon tracked sooty footprints across the carpet as he strolled around the desk to kiss Maedhros’ cheek. He left an ashy smudge there too. “We must place a better watch upon Ard-Galen.”

“Agreed. And distribute copies of this-” Maedhros held up Ereinion’s picture “-to every unit.” Running his fingers over the scrawled, clumsy lines, he added; “We’re pining the original up in the pantry.”

So…none of us know what’s going to happen next. I know we’re all anxious and talking about a civil war breaking out, or a coup, or us going to war alongside Russia. Or else about the government killing or taking people en masse. Or deportations to a place that isn’t safe. Or our medical infrastructure being destabilized. Or white terrorism. Nazis.

And maybe we will have to take up arms and fight back. Pick the side against a totalitarian government and fight against it. Maybe. Possibly. Probably? And things are going to get extremely dangerous for everyone very soon, whether a civil war or a violent coup or whatever breaks out or not.

But just remember that not everyone can fight a war, or fight at all. Some of us–many of us–cannot fight back. We can’t use a firearm or punch out a nazi or struggle against someone even if our lives are literally and 100% in danger. And we can’t flee if a place gets too dangerous, or go to Canada, or leave our homes at all in an emergency. And we can’t even thrash or scream our way out of being taken, if it comes to that.

So just remember us, okay? Remember the sick and disabled and mentally ill, and fight for us. Because we can’t fight for our own lives, and are depending on you in whatever comes next. Even if war doesn’t happen or trump and pence and ryan and their people are all removed, we–the disabled, the mentally ill, the chronically sick, and chronically shafted–are still going to lose everything. We’ve already started losing everything. And we want to be out there with you, defending our lives and others, but we can’t be, and we know it and are frightened by it.

Just please fight for us too, okay?


I’m wearing my cousin’s clothes yay

we’re all just hurt people trying to make sense of dragons that flew to close to the stars
we sit around the table at night, hoping for the burns to calm our stomachs down
our bellies tremble, like our hands, so it’s hard to think straight or write or even laugh
but we carry on anyway, partly because we’re stubborn like that and partly because a part of us believes in the validity of hope
we cry, yes, but we also smile– we leave our homes behind but we always return
there’s a gentle sort of sweetness and tenderness that rests on our palms and we try our hardest to share it with the world
either through poetry or stories or songs or even jokes, little anecdotes that accrue meaning with the passage of time…
—  sometimes it seems like we’re just ominous, obscure movie posters hanging on dirty walls but then when someone looks closely enough they can see the hidden joys in our ink and in our eyes..