my name is molly and this is my face

Look at my love. ♥

Sherlock’s parents are absolutely lovely. Just absolutely lovely! 

I think Sherlock forgot to tell them we were coming because they came home from Cardiff and looked absolutely shocked to see him there. Then they seemed doubly shocked to see ME there. And then further shocked still when they learned who I was. Not my name, they knew my name, of course (I don’t know why that surprised me, but it did). They were surprised to have Sherlock introducing me as.. 

“This is Molly Hooper. My… you know.” 

After an uncomfortable moment of Sherlock looking vaguely digestively-disturbed, myself smiling far too large with awful red cheeks, and his mum and dad exchanging flummoxed looks, his mum finally verbally nudged him. “You know…?”

He looked fully digestively-uncomfortable by then and quickly spat out, “Oh, you know what. My girlfriend!”

And before he could stick around to see the truly baffled expressions on their faces, he grabbed up Basil’s leash, announced “Walkies” and he and the puppy tore out, with the door slamming behind them. Before it fully closed, however, he told us to “talk amongst yourselves… or whatever, you know.”

For a moment after, I watched Sherlock’s mum and dad stare at each other in bewilderment before they both seemed to come to life at once. “A girlfriend!” His mum exclaimed before I was pinned to her chest in a surprisingly tight hug.

It turns out, we didn’t need Sherlock there to get on just fine! We let him walk off his relationship anxiety while we chatted just like old mates. His mum made tea and his dad opened a box of biscuits and we tucked into that at the old kitchen table. By the time Sherlock came home, I was knee deep in photo albums with them in the living room and before he could fully roll his eyes to Surrey and back, his mom had him trapped in a hug as well. “My booooy!” She said first, before she whispered, “We like her.”

“Well of course you like her. She’s Molly Hooper!” he said in annoyance, like she ought to have known. Thankfully though, he was less tense now and eventually joined us to look at “Oh, good. Embarrassing pictures of Mycroft.”

I’ve got to say.. this was just about the best day I’ve ever had.

- Molly

Last night at a Once Upon a Time viewing party everyone was asking what story they got the name Gideon from and without thinking I blurted out “Gideon Prewett from Harry Potter” and they all stared at me blankly so I was all “Molly Weasley’s brothers? Gideon and Fabian? Harry wears the Prewett family watch?”

And my best friend dead ass looked me in the face as if she realized how obsessed I really am and said “wow that’s a really fucking obscure fact.”

I didn’t know how to tell her the truth that’s it’s my lifestyle to know any and all facts given about the marauders era because my second job is writing fanfiction for jily lovers so I just laughed awkwardly and changed the subject quickly.

meeting new people

It was a rather sunny morning as Bow the little demon wolf looked out the window of the crowded bus to his destination. Little Happy Town was the name he’d heard from his parents so much during their tours around the country. It seemed to be quite a fond place to his parents, this made bow excited to see the town for the first time. Most of the six year old’s life they were traveling on the road on tours for daddy’s dancing show and he’d never been in one place for more than a week but papa said that he’d be spending the summer in little happy town with some old friends of theirs until daddy’s last tour was done.

He smiled happily as he grabbed his bag from the holder from above him as the bus came to a stop. Bow happily got out of his seat and squeezed his little body out of the crowded bus on to dirt path. Catching a deep breath of the sweet country  air as the bus speed off. He looked to the small map his papa had for him as he started walking through town. He seemed wonder around for awhile as some of papa’s markers were moved or no longer there, this worried little bow as he hadnt even found the mouse he was suppose to be staying with.

Bow sighed sitting on a bench as he folded up the hand made map and put in his front pocket and frowned. He hadn’t even noticed all the glares he was receiving from some people walking past until a white poodle sat beside him. 

“hello there little demon what brings you here?” The poodle asked with a soft smile as Bow turned towards her. She smelled every nice like the ladies who’d bring him back to his parents when he got lost after a show. He nervously shifted to pull a letter out of his bag to look at the name on the letter.

“i-i’m looking for a mouse named molly"bow said stuttering a little bit as he looked into the poodles eyes. they seemed to fill a emotion he’d seen on fans of his parents shows when they said they weren’t doing what the fans asked, but the poodle still had a smile on her face,“d-do y-you know where i could find her?”

“oh of course i do sweet heart I’ll show you to her uncle’s shop it’s not to far here” She said softly as she got and waved for him to follow. Bow smiled nervously as he got up to follow her, the two walked down the street slowly as Bow stumbled forward. 

“My names Bow” the kid said softly as they walked across the street, he was a bit uneasy about her angry eyes but calm body language. He’d heard about a woman like that from daddy and things didn’t go well in the end. She made both his parents very upset and daddy said if bow ever met her not to make her mad.

“hi bow my names Abella” the poodle said kindly as they stopped in front of the shop she bent down to his eye level and smiled,“ Mr. Ched in the store is Molly’s uncle just tell him you need to talk to her and maybe buy something you’ll be fine if you need anything I’m staying at the hotel on 4th in avenue in room 27 ok? I’ll see you later bow”

With that the poodle left him in front of the little shop, and bow dug into his bag for a minute looking for some of the money papa had packed for him. He knew Mr.ched liked money from what papa told him about the man’s price for bone cookies are or at least were. Bow took a 50 out of his bag and walked into the store as he saw the tall buff mouse reading a newspaper. He looked around the small store finding it a bit cozy as he looked to the price bone cookies and the soda. Grabbing a soda bottle and a bone cookie Bow walked back to the check out and put them on the counter and put the 50 on the counter.

“you can keep the change if you tell me where Ms.Molly is I got a letter for her from my parents” Bow said as the man lowered his newspaper. Bow met his stare as he looked at the 50.

“is this real money? I dont see people come in here 50 dollar bills to often"The mouse said studying the bill.

"I hope so my Papa has never given me fake money before and he told me your bone cookies were 20 dollars each"bow said in a sassy tone,"you really over price them I’ve seen bone cookies sold for  5 dollars a doze”

“And who would your father be little demon? your lucky im not kicking you out "the mouse hissed.

"My papa’s name is Boris! He’s a honest wolf and I think he’d be ashamed that you think he’d give me fake money!” Bow said hissing right back at the mouse whose face went white,“but if you dont want my business I’ll just go get my cookie and soda somewhere else !”

“wait did you say you were uncle Boris’s son?” A female mouse said peaking in from the back room. Bow nodded as he stood his ground with Ched who rung up the boy’s items,“I’m Molly what brings you here?”

“Oh um I have a letter for you from parents that explains everything"Bow said as he hands the letter over to her. He smiled happily as her eyes lite up opening it and squeaked. She came over and hugged the six year old.

"welcome to town bow!” She said happily spinning him around

Aww!! That’s really neat! X3 @mikethenightguard1

George Weasley x Reader: Family Matters

AN: Thank you for the patience <3 Here is some George for you tonight, and hopefully I will have more fics out this week

Warnings: There’s a playful NSFW part, but nothing explicit 

Requested by: @resurrectedskeleton

Ice rolled through Y/N’s veins, and it felt like someone was air popping corn kernels in her stomach. She fussed with everything, fluffing her hair and making sure her clothes were pressed precisely. A spot of perfume but not too much, and any blemishes were covered up to make a good impression. Y/N charmed her shoes to dispel any water or mud, thinking she’d just die if she got the carpet in the Weasley household dirty.

Not the best way to be introduced to the parents of Y/N’s boyfriend.

She tried to stay positive, she really did. There was no way that such sweet (albeit mischievous) children could come from hateful people, and George assured her that Mrs. Weasley was already in stitches having heard good things about Y/N from himself. It was high time that they met, Y/N and George had been courting for a good number of months. As her parents had decided to visit foreign relatives during the winter break, the Weasleys invited her to Christmas dinner and other festivities. She was thrilled to receive their enthusiasm, but the butterflies certainly landed in her tummy when she woke up on Christmas Eve morning.

George wasn’t exactly unshakeable either. He knew that his parents would love Y/N, that was stupidly obvious. She was a Hufflepuff ball of sunshine, and anyone who was graced with her presence had their day improved. Y/N had a solid gold heart, and the Weasleys would see that immediately – George knew that he did. However, he was nervous for his own good. The second the baby book full of pictures of George and Fred in the nude appeared, he would be taking Y/N out for a walk. There was the tiniest bit of dread in his stomach, fearing that Y/N wouldn’t want to be with him anymore if she saw the more embarrassing parts of his life.

Swallowing his anxieties, he rapped a knuckle on Y/N’s door.

“Are you in there, love?” George called.

“…No.” Y/N replied, her voice shaking.

George gave a chuckle.

“Come on, we’ve got to leave for the train, sweetheart.” He insisted. “Don’t be nervous, I’m one hundred and ten percent sure that my parents won’t stop fussing over you and will be writing me daily about how much they adored you. It’ll be annoying, I promise!”

“George I’m taking this a lot more seriously than you are!” Y/N shouted back.

“Let me in.” George said.


“If you won’t let me in, I’ll just come in.”

“No George, I’m seri-“

He snatched the door knob, and tugged, walking in to see a topless Y/N, angrily clutching a shirt to her chest. George pulled his eyebrows together, smirking evilly. She did not share his joyous sentiments.

“I told you not to come in.” She snapped.

“But I’m so glad I did.” George said, with a cheeky wink.

Y/N sighed, sitting on her bed, which was littered with different articles of clothing. George rubbed her back, and pulled Y/N into his lap. She curled into his button up shirt, and relished the kisses he placed to her forehead.

“I promise you that if you feel uncomfortable, we will leave. I will not make you stay if you do not want to. It’s your Christmas Eve too.” He whispered, combing through her hair with his fingers.

Y/N uncurled and slipped her shirt on. Nodding and clenching her fist in George’s, she let him lead her out of the room.

The train ride was mild. George got some club soda into Y/N to calm her stomach, and she watched the scenery go by out the window, leaning against him. Snowflakes floated all around the train, and tall trees became coated in white. George’s plush scarf provided good cushioning, and Y/N quickly fell asleep watching the pattern of snow falling.

A pair of soft, warm lips on her cheek woke her gently when the train chugged to a halt. As her y/e/c eyes blinked open, she was welcomed back into consciousness with the view of her auburn-haired prince grinning down at her from above, with a halo of winter sunshine glowing around his head, making his freckles pop like embers from a sizzling fire. It was pure bliss, and she smiled up at him.

“-‘ve got to go. Dad’s waiting outside. Everyone else is already there, love. Can you even hear what I’m saying?” George was explaining.

Oh. Daydream foiled.

However, the fact that she was keeping Mr. Weasley waiting certainly lit a fire under Y/N’s keister, and she clambered out of the seat within seconds. George wrangled the luggage, and soon they were out of the comfy train car, and into the realm of frosted breath and goose bumps. Shielding her eyes from the sun, Y/N looked onto the platform for someone who resembled George, or any of his siblings for that matter.

A very excited man with a receding red hairline stood a few paces down the platform, rocking back and forth on his heels. Y/N swallowed all of her nerves, and followed George down onto the pavement. Mr. Weasley caught sight of them and started forwards at once. Y/N prepared for their first encounter with a warm smile and an outstretched hand, but Mr. Weasley went for a bone crushing hug.

“So nice to meet you, Miss. Y/N!” He said, releasing her. She looked a bit startled, but kept her cool. “Hope that my son has been treating you well. Molly cannot wait to see you, she’s been bustling about all morning – cannot keep still. Too excited.”

“And you know, to see her son who she has missed dearly…” George grumbled, rolling his eyes.

Mr. Weasley gave him a hug and ruffled his hair, then the three traveled off of the platform. Once outside of King’s Cross and muggle scrutiny, Mr. Weasley held out both arms for apparition. Y/N looked uncertain at the notion. George caught her glance.

“Try to hold it in.” He said, tapping her stomach.

“No promises.” She said under her breath, and the familiar whirring sensation stirred her entire body like it was in a cocktail shaker.

Suddenly, they were a few hundred feet from a crooked looking house and a large grassy lawn. There was a raging Quidditch game going on in the field to their left, and up ahead a short and squat, but very friendly, looking woman with busy red hair ran forwards with outstretched arms. George smirked at Y/N and ran a hand through his hair, expecting to be enveloped with hugs and kisses from his adoring mother, but instead found that she had flocked to his girlfriend instead.

“Can’t catch a break today.” He chuckled.

If Mr. Weasley’s hug was tight, then Mrs. Weasley’s hug could be considered pulverizing. Y/N could smell cinnamon and fresh linens, and felt comforted by Mrs. Weasley’s presence. When she pulled back, Mrs. Weasley smiled brightly at her, her crows feet crinkling with joy. Behind her, George mouthed “I told you so”, and followed his father into the house.

“Hello Mrs. Weasley, my name is-“

“Oh Y/N dear, please call me Molly. I’m so pleased to meet the young lady who has been making my son into a respectable man, heaven knows I haven’t been able to.” Mrs. Weasley responded.

“Ma’am I don’t think anyone will ever be able to do that, but I’m making progress.” Y/N chuckled. “Thank you for the invitation and for your hospitality.”

“The pleasure is ours! Don’t be a stranger, supper is nearly ready. Let me show you around.” Mrs. Weasley offered.

As Y/N was led inside, she felt the butterflies settle in her stomach. Everyone dawned a smiling face, and the din within the household was comforting. Taking a seat beside her beloved boyfriend, she felt right at home.

“Welcome to the family, Y/N.” George whispered into her ear.

Breaking Magic Bonds (A Medieval Fantasy AU): Chapter 1

(This alternate universe work is dedicated to you, readers, for taking the plunge in clicking on this.

For once, I don’t have much to say on this, at least things that might not hint at a sequence of events. So, I’ll close this note for now, and hope you all enjoy!)


Wade’s dark oak eyes pierced the starless sky, fighting to hold back yet another wave of suffocation in his throat. Even the stars must have fled to mourn in solitude.

No, of course not. No one, not even his family, ever paid him heed. In this so-called ‘prosperous kingdom’, even the weakest of commoners were pushed into a battle of survival. Not one went through a day without great pain and torment crashing onto the people, darkening the world around them.

Wade Barnes had willingly entered that battle at a young age. He would muster up all of his energy, taking the absolute advantage of it in order to understand the world around him. He cherished the games he played with the boys who would glare at him in annoyance, he listened and spoke with the men and women, boys and girls within the town. They may have not had a heart for him, yet, he would be the good soul to show them kindness, in spite they should not have deserved it.

If only he realized it would all be in vain. Suppose he understood that peace and solace was a mere illusion, he could’ve saved his mother and father, his brother from being bankrupt of their last few bits of savings, and all of them stolen from him that night.

When Wade was abruptly pulled out of his sleep by that silent, hooded figure in black, he would shortly have the images of dancing fire, and the sounds of crackles, jeers, and screams, etched into his mind, scarring his spirit and stabbing his once brilliant optimism.

That mysterious man took the people and needs Wade once savored, on that night. Did the people hate him so much, as well? To the point where they would sneer at the agonized, blazing dancers that were his family?

Almost certainly, combining that with how they spat at Wade as the young man ran out of the city by himself, nothing to lose or gain in his hands. Not even the guards towering over the gate looked to him, or bid him farewell.

Here he was now, laying on a lush, green hill near a forest. He did not dare to come in contact with the kingdom of Hongor, etched miles behind him. It was better to leave what he had once called home, rather than revolt against the people. Fighting fire with fire could only hurt himself.

Now, he was with the world outside of that ‘home’, awaiting even the most uncertain of possibilities. The world around him was now a void; every other creature at least had something to fight for.

Wade did not. No one was coming to change that, either.  

Keep reading

That Bitch - Alec Lightwood Imagine

REQUESTED: Yup, by anon <3

Hi! I love your writing alot❤ Can u write an imagine about alec x femreader where there is this girl from another institute(her name is up to you) and she visit ny institute bcs she want to know how shadowhunters at there practice n this girl is also good at archery just like alec n she always training with alec and he doesnt hv enaf time to spend with her girlfriend and the rest and ofc as his gf , the reader is so jealous n give him a silent treatment and the rest is up to you . Thanku! xoxo:*

WARNINGS: None ayy

SUMMARY: Idris has sent over a girl named Mollie to see how Shadowhunters train. When she arrives, she is immediately taken by Alec’s skills. Being his girlfriend, however, you’re not too keen on this girl.

NOTES: I am sorry if you take offence to the name, I’ve only come up with it because there’s a bitchy girl at my school with that name. IT DOESN’T MEAN ANYONE CALLED MOLLIE IS A BITCH OKOK

Also I had my maths Calc exam today and I think it went well ahh

Originally posted by strange-fanboy

Keep reading

  • Pathologist: *enters the morgue*
  • Sherlock: *examining a body*
  • Pathologist: *rolls his eyes* Excuse me, sir, this area is out of bounds to-
  • Sherlock: *still looking at the body* It's okay.
  • Pathologist: *sighs* If you don't leave, I'll have to call security.
  • Sherlock: *rolls his eyes* I said it's fine.
  • Pathologist: *frowns* Why is it fine?
  • Sherlock: *smirks* I'm sleeping with the boss.
  • Pathologist: ...
  • Pathologist: *confused* You're sleeping with Stamford?
  • Sherlock: *looks up; annoyed* The other boss.
  • Molly: *enters the morgue, carrying coffees; irritated* Here's your bloody coffee, you git. Have you finished now so I can do my job?
  • Sherlock: *steps aside; takes the coffee, grinning* Yes, boss.
  • Pathologist: ...
Trap Door (Part 2)

[Part 1 here]


I didn’t see Fred and George again after their first visit. The person who knocked on the door of Honeydukes, causing them to leave so soon, was the Minister of Magic, coming to all of the shops in Hogsmead to tell us that there would be no more Hogwarts trips to our shops, as the school is on lock down while hunting for Sirius Black. My heart sunk a little, thinking about how the twins wouldn’t be able to come and see me like Fred promised. The Minister said that he also came into the shop for another reason, giving me an appointment to see him in the Ministry of Magic.

After a few more weeks at the new job, it was time to head home for the holidays. Even though I didn’t see or hear from Fred or George, I had the best time of my life in Honeydukes. When I’m not at work, I’m with Tonks and her partner, Remus. Even though I should feel like a bit of a third wheel living with them, I could not have asked for a more gracious welcome. Now that it was Christmas, they were taking me with them to have Christmas with “The Order”. I’m not meant to ask questions, but I’ve been assured that there will be plenty of people my age to hang around with.


“We’re here” Tonks nudged at my side and pointed to a tall and cozy looking house. “There’s the ol’ Burrow” Remus smiled, looking up at this phenomenal house with all sorts of magic surrounding it, from gnomes running around to a hexed lawn mower and– was that a firework I heard?  

We walked in and I was introduced to about 15 adults, all smiling at me lovingly. “Everyone, this is my new baby sis, Y/N”. They all came over to welcome me and shake hands, introducing themselves all at once. I had never seen so many happy and loving people in one confined space, and this really does feel like a home to me already.  

“Hello dear, I’m Molly” a short stout woman introduced herself to me. “We’re so happy to finally meet you. The kids are all up stairs if you’d rather be with people your own age!” She chuckled a bright and warm laughter, welcoming a smile upon anyone’s face. I turned around to go up the stairs to meet some more people when I was faced with a very familiar pair of redheads. “Oh Fred, George, this is Tonks’ sister I was telling you about, her name is–” “Y/N!” Fred interrupted. I presume my face looked as stunned as theirs, eyes wide and mouth hanging open in surprise. Molly looked at us with a puzzled expression,  looking now to me expecting an explanation of some sort, but I was in a trance, my eyes locked with Fred’s, and his locked with mine. “We’ll take care of her, don’t worry Mum” George spoke up, tugging Fred by the arm in an attempt to get him up the stairs already.

We chatted for a while, where they explained to me that they could’ve faced expulsion if they were caught off school grounds. We caught up with everything on what was happening, from who this Sirius Black was, the last few weeks at Honeydukes, and the Minister wanting to have a meeting with me after the break. The boys both found this to be out of character for the Minister to personally enquire to meet up with a teenager for a conference. Their younger siblings, Ron and Ginny and their friend Harry and Hermione all agreed that it was odd.


“Well?” Fred and George pestered me from the moment Arthur and I got back from the Ministry of Magic. “I can’t work at Honeydukes anymore” I spilled. “What? Why? You’ve only been working there for a few weeks and you’ve been brilliant!” They said in union. “They said it would interfere with my schooling,” they looked at me with equally puzzling expressions. “Would the two of you come with me to Diagon Ally to buy my new robes and books for Hogwarts?”



A Jealous Man
  • *St Bart's Canteen*
  • Mary: So, what's his name?
  • Molly: Frederick.
  • Mary: *leans forward eagerly* What's he like?
  • Molly: *smiles, dreamy eyed* Sweet and cuddly with big hazel eyes, so cute!
  • Mary: *giggles, a knowing smirk on her face* And ginger, I assume.
  • Molly: *groans* I can't help it! Gingers are my weakness!
  • Sherlock: *undercover in hoodie and jeans, growls and shoves away from the table behind Molly* Ginger, Molly? Really? Do you not recall my admonition that you avoid all attempts at a future relationship? This is the perfect example as to why. *scoffs* Ginger, indeed.
  • Molly: *gapes*
  • Mary: *smiles knowingly*
  • Sherlock: Now, where is this Francisco?
  • Mary: *puts hand over heart dramatically* Why, Mr Holmes, you do appear to be a bit jealous of the fair lady's attentions.
  • Sherlock: *glares at Mary* Of course I am. It isn't enough that the woman I love is oblivious to my feelings, but insists on dating a *shivers* ginger.
  • Molly: *stares, wide-eyed* You love me?
  • Sherlock: *rolls his eyes* Obviously. Do keep up, Moll-
  • Molly: *jumps up and snogs him rather enthusiastically*
  • Mary: *watches on, like a proud mama*
  • Molly: *pulls back* I love you, too.
  • Sherlock: *smugly holding his Molly* Good. Shall we pay dear Franklin a visit to let him know he can find his own girlfriend, instead of poaching mine?
  • Mary: *sniggers*
  • Molly: *flushes darker* Sherlock, Frederick isn't my boyfriend.
  • Sherlock: *frowns* He's not? What about the cuddliness and big hazel eyes and your weakness for gingers?
  • Molly: *bites her lip, smiling* He's a ginger tabby I just adopted.
  • Sherlock: *flushes dark red* Oh.

anonymous asked:

can you share some part of Jeanne's scene? :))

Of course I can. So much happens as Mme Jeanne’s from the first time that Jamie and Claire make love in 20 years, to Claire and Fergus reuniting and so many classic lines that we love. But to go with some humor and because I can just see Cait during this scene, I’ll give you the next morning. Jamie is off to look for Young Ian, Claire is confined to her room with no clothes and is getting hungry.

Rather than go on sitting here in the nude, receiving random deputations from the outside world, I thought it time to take steps. Rising and carefully wrapping a quilt around my body, I took a few, out into the corridor. 

The upper floor seemed deserted. Aside from the room I had left, there were only two other doors up here. Glancing up, I could see unadorned rafters overhead. We were in the attic then; chances were that the other rooms here were occupied by servants, who were presumably now employed downstairs. 

I could hear faint noises drifting up the stairwell. Something else drifted up, as well— the scent of frying sausage. A loud gustatory rumble informed me that my stomach hadn’t missed this, and furthermore, that my innards considered the consumption of one peanut butter sandwich and one bowl of soup in one twenty-four-hour period a wholly inadequate level of nutrition. 

I tucked the ends of the quilt in, sarong-fashion, just above my breasts, and picking up my trailing skirts, followed the scent of food downstairs. 

The smell— and the clinking, clattering, sloshing noises of a number of people eating— were coming from a closed door on the first floor above ground level. I pushed it open, and found myself at the end of a long room equipped as a refectory. 

The table was surrounded by twenty-odd women, a few gowned for day, but most of them in a state of dishabille that made my quilt modest by comparison. A woman near the end of the table caught sight of me hovering in the doorway, and beckoned, companionably sliding over to make room for me on the end of the long bench. 

“You’ll be the new lass, aye?” she said, looking me over with interest. “You’re a wee bit older than Madame usually takes on— she likes ’em no more than five and twenty. You’re no bad at all, though,” she assured me hastily. “I’m sure you’ll do fine.” 

“Good skin and a pretty face,” observed the dark-haired lady across from us, sizing me up with the detached air of one appraising horseflesh. “And nice bubbies, what I can see.” She lifted her chin slightly, peering across the table at what could be seen of my cleavage. 

“Madame doesna like us to take the kivvers off the beds,” my original acquaintance said reprovingly. “Ye should wear your shift, if ye havena something pretty to show yourself in yet.” 

“Aye, be careful with the quilt,” advised the dark-haired girl, still scrutinizing me. “Madame’ll dock your wages, an’ ye get spots on the bedclothes.” 

Keep reading


When i was 11, i met a girl named Molly who had just moved into my town. Molly always had a smile on her face and had way more freedom than the rest of the kids in my school. She was allowed to stay out after dark, walk across the main street, and even go into town alone. She was a little weird though. She refused to eat at school, she didn’t respect authority very well, and she smelt like she never washed her clothes. Sometimes she would wear the same thing all week. Her parents never seemed to leave the house either. She just let herself in and out with her own key. 

After knowing her for about a month I asked her why we never hung out at her house. We were always at mine or the park. She answered me nervously but still with her signature smile, “We will… sometime.” and made a face like she was uneasy about it. I felt that was a rather weird response, but like i said, she was a little weird. 

So a few weeks passed and Molly finally asked me to come over, she said her mom was going to feed us, so not to bother eating before i came over. I walked over to her house and knocked on the door. She answered and let me in. The whole house smelt exactly like her but more potent. It was that same musty, throw up smell she brought to school with her everyday. It made me feel sick.

 "Molly, whats that smell?“ i asked as i covered my nose with my shirt.

“Well that smells my dad, he’s been getting gross lately. But my mom cooking smells good, doesn’t it?” she asked with her usual jolly smile. 

“Yeah,” i lied. I couldn’t smell what ever was cooking over the wretched aroma the house was overcome with. 

“Come meet her, she’s grilling in the back yard,” Molly grabbed my hand and pulled me to the sliding door in the back of the house. We walked out to the back and up to the grill, and sure enough there was Molly’s mom cooking….. her leg specifically. The rest of her limbs and torso were layed out on the lawn next to the grill. Just her head was missing.

“M-Molly, what happened here?”

She flipped the leg on the grill over and with her innocent smile explained, “ I told my parents i was tired of moving. I’ve had to move four times already and if we moved again i was going to live by myself. My dad laughed at me when i told them that. He said i would have no money for food if i lived by myself, and a little girl like me could never handle being alone.” Her face turned dark for a second, “I told them i’d prove it.” Her normal smile slowly resurfaced. “I do still miss them though, so i put their heads in their room so i can go visit them after the rest of them is gone. Don’t tell anyone though, I think this might get me in trouble. Your the only person i trust. Anyway, would you like a thigh or calf, they’re both pretty good?”

“I…..I….,” i had nothing to say. I ran away as fast as i could, hopped her fence, and sprinted all the way home. I told my mother everything and she called 911.
The police walked in to a horrific scene, but molly wasn’t there. However they did find a note addressed to me, it read; 

“Chris, I thought we were best friends, but i know your telling on me and now i have to run forever. I’ll never be able to do what i want and you will pay for this someday.”

I was mortified at first, but we moved and as a couple years went by the inncodent fadded away, sort of. Im turning 22 in a few days and just moved out of my parents house. Molly would still pop up in my head every now and again, or i’d have an occasional nightmare about her. I wasn’t afraid anymore though. But i just went out to check my mailbox and along with the regular bills and junk mail, there was a different kind of envelope in the mix. I opened it when i got back inside and it was a birthday card. On the inside it said;

                                          Happy Birthday
                                 I’ve missed you. Love Molly.

I don’t know what i find more disturbing, the fact that the envelope the card came in was blank, or the fact that the upstairs light wasn’t on before i went to check the mail.

Written by; sage
With eyes shut tight

“I am sorry Lady Holmes but I seem to have misheard what you just said.”

“No Molly. You heard perfectly well. I know this sounds foolhardy and like I have lost my marbles. But I would like for you to marry my son Sherlock.”

Molly shook her head slightly, not believing the words the woman in front of her was saying. She turned to her guardian, Mrs Hudson, with a frown on her face.

“It’s correct, my dear. Lady Holmes wants you to marry the younger Lord Holmes. It seems to be the only way to ensure he wouldn’t get up to any more mischief.”

Molly turned her confused gaze back to the lady of the manor who looked terribly worried.

“He was about to marry Irene Adler, just to spite his brother and to stop us from broaching the subject of his marriage. Now Irene is a lovely and clever girl but I cannot ignore the scandal that seems to follow her everywhere…I will not have my family’s name sullied.” Lady Holmes paused before approaching Molly, her steps hesitant.

“He seems to tolerate you, and you seem to put up with his behaviour…you are the only help I know who has not left his room in tears. Of course it comforts me that Mrs Hudson here has the highest regard for you. Sherlock is to leave for London soon and I fear what further mischief that boy will make just to irk us. Knowing you are taking care of him will ease a huge burden off my shoulders.”

Lady Holmes held Molly’s hands, desperation clearly written on her face. “Please agree to this Molly, I know I ask for a lot but you are my only hope.”

And that’s how it happened. Miss Molly Hooper, an unemployed governess making ends meet by helping her guardian Mrs Hudson in taking care of the Holmes Manor, became Mrs Sherlock Holmes.

The wedding was short and quick, attended by a quiet and stoic bride, a very reluctant groom, his mother, older brother and Mrs Hudson. The newly-weds left immediately for London to minimise gossip and scandal that was sure to follow.

Molly had always had realistic dreams about her future, aiming to have a decent companion and a solid roof over her head. Life hadn’t been too kind to the poor orphan. Not all her employees had been considerate, not all the words falling on her ears had been kind and not all her experiences had been painless. So she had toughened up.

Time spent feeling sad or lonely might interfere with completing her chores on time. A helpless feeling might cause distraction. Getting involved in any way would only make things hard when the time rose to move to the next job.

She had learnt to separate her emotions from the reality around her and though sometimes it led to her colleagues calling her ‘stone-hearted’ or ‘cold’, she knew it was the best approach. It was wise not to get too comfortable.

So Molly approached her marriage the same way she did any new task, with dedication, devotion and utter concentration on the final expected result. She knew her real purpose; to keep the younger Lord Holmes at peace and out of trouble.

And the best way to do this was to leave him alone.

Having moved from the country to her new dwellings in London, Molly immediately fell into her new role of managing her husband’s house. She got the place in top shape, employing new people to help setting up 221B Baker Street as the place her husband wanted. If there was gossip about the relatively young housekeeper Mr Holmes employed, it was quickly brushed away when the new employees dealt with her cool and distant demeanour. And Sherlock never introduced her or even remotely behaved with her as his wife, so Molly didn’t bother correcting them.

She treated her husband as an employer, ensuring all his needs were anticipated and taken care of. After all, her training as a governess had exposed her to science of the world as well as dealing with tantrums.

Sherlock found himself pretty satisfied with his new situation. His mother and brother were off his back about getting married and he was now free to do what he always wanted: solve mysteries. He met and befriended an army doctor, Dr Watson, and things started moving smoothly. He did not interfere with his wife’s routine and she ensured that there was minimum need for interaction with him. The world thought he was lucky to get a housekeeper with a strong stomach for his experiments and calm mind to deal with his mostly socially unacceptable behaviour.

And thus it would have continued but for a small case. Where the criminal they were chasing tracked Sherlock home and attacked him. Taken by surprise, he suffered some injury before getting into a tussle with the well-built thug and eventually overcoming him. Molly played no small role in it, causing acute damage with the frying pan, but not before sustaining a deep cut on her arm from the thug’s knife. It was Sherlock who realised she was bleeding profusely.

“It was brave but foolish of you to get involved…” he berated her as he bandaged the cut.

“It wouldn’t have been the first time Mr Holmes.”

It was later that night, when the thug was in jail and his parlour rearranged that Sherlock gave thought to his wife’s partying words. A few things about the evening disturbed him. He had experienced an instant of panic when the criminal had approached Molly with the raised knife and his heart skipped a beat when he saw the blood on her arm. The rage with which he had attacked and subdued the man seemed to stem from the fact that his wife had been hurt.

His wife!

Since when had he started to refer to Molly like that? It had been more than two years of their arrangement and it was working perfectly in all ways. Yet Sherlock felt rattled by the events of that evening. That and the stoic way Molly seem to take the incident in her stride, working the next day as if the previous night’s excitement was imaginary.

He had always admired her quiet ways, her tolerant approach to his experiments, her improvement as she helped him in his small laboratory, her estimation of his needs…Having always looked upon her as someone who made his life easier, who took care of him, he now started to see her as the person she was.

And she surprised him.

She was intelligent, her mind sharp and grasping of most of the things he threw at her. She was a task master but kind. She ran a strict household but was generous. And she was selfless. He realised that she thought of herself last, putting everyone else ahead. And she did this unconsciously.

Looking at her, observing her, Sherlock realised that he had indeed been lucky and wise to have agreed to the arrangement his mother had suggested. He now found her qualities attractive…he found her attractive. This realisation made him more aware of her, her presence bringing him a warmth that he had not earlier noticed. 221B Baker Street, his house, now felt like his home. And she was responsible.

He had nonchalantly mentioned this fact to Dr Watson, without taking a name.

“You are talking about Miss Hooper I assume?” The good doctor asked hesitantly.

“I mean my wife.”

“Who?” came the confused query.

“Molly, of course.”

“You mean Miss Hooper?”

“I mean Mrs Holmes.”

“Mrs Holmes? Who is Mrs Holmes?”

“You have met her, she lives with me.”

“I have met your housekeeper, Holmes.”

“What? What housekeeper?”

“Have you taken something? Because God help me you are making no sense.”

“Why have you turned so daft? Molly, who you refer to as Miss Hooper, happens to be my legally wedded wife and not my housekeeper. Where the devil did you get that impression?”

Dr Watson stared unbelievably at his friend, wondering what new medication or solution he had tried, when the said woman herself turned up to announce dinner.

“Molly, the good doctor here has the impression that you are my housekeeper. Pray tell him the truth…no wonder you are not the detective here, my dear man.” Sherlock said with a smirk.

Molly blinked, her face losing some colour. Dr Watson immediately got up and approached her, apologising for his friends behaviour which he believed was caused by some narcotics.

She gave him a small smile and corrected him, “We were wed in front of the Holy Lord and Mr Holmes’ family. I believe that makes me his wife, but that doesn’t mean I am not his housekeeper…Dinner is hot and served”, saying which she turned and left.

(Also published on and Ao3)

+sherlolly because...what was said

I’m still working through my feelings from TFP and today’s focus is that of the aftermath of Molly and Sherlock’s phone call. Also, I wanted to play around abit with a line that had troubled me in the episode. I guess I wanted to comfort myself a little haha. If you’ve come to read it, thank you so much. :) xx


Words  (also on

It had been a week since the phone call. Molly had not been surprised at the silence after what had been an odd game of tug-of-war; a fight to see who could hold on to their veneer of protection just a little bit longer. Sherlock was not one to expose the contents of his heart, whatever those contents were, but neither was Molly. Sometimes, things were much better left unsaid, and Molly was a firm believer of that. 

Keep reading

I really need to read for English

okay I’ll check these messages and then read

lolololol cat video

NO it is time to READ

wait I have another message



this is counterproductive


I’m back at the computer I might as well check…


Awesome! I read about a page! I’ll just read after dinner!!!!

ereboraven-deactivated20160415  asked:

I ripped my pants today at artwalk in a Very Public Setting and I am Very, VERY Embarrassed. Is there any way to recover from something like that? Or at least not turn completely red in the face and feel like a total ass about it?

oh, nooooooo. you poor thing. as someone who embarrasses herself ALL THE TIME in public, let me tell you a secret. the secret is: nobody pays as much attention to you as you do. i do not mean that as an insult; i just mean that i guarantee everyone else has already forgotten that you ripped your pants. or like, maybe they didn’t forget, but 100% they are too wrapped up in their Own Shit to care. so the way to recover is remind yourself that a) everybody rips their pants in public sometimes! b) everybody else is too wrapped up in themselves to care much that you ripped your pants in public, and c) the honest-to-god best way i have found to move on is to just like, be able to laugh about it. i know that can be hard!!! but i have found that making jokes about things that embarrassed me has always, always helped me start to find them genuinely funny and not so embarrassing anymore.

i dedicated, like, this whole blog to that life policy.

anyway, if that doesn’t help, here is a list of just SOME of the horrifying things i have done so that you don’t feel alone:

  • i was like, HEAD OVER HEELS for this boy in college, and i was trying to be all ~cool and ~chill despite the fact that ANY credible argument for me being not 100% bananas for his face went out the window when i flew ACROSS INTERNATIONAL BORDERS to see him. anyway, he made me pico de gallo and i was so excited to eat the pico de gallo that i FELL OFF MY CHAIR. that’s right!!! i was SITTING DOWN and i STILL fell over. onto the ground. he was like, “are….are you…..okay,” and i said, with my mouth, “haHA!!!! SURE AM!!! GOT SO PUMPED ABOUT THIS PICO DE GALLO THAT I FELL OVER!!!” and he said, “do you need help up,” and i said, “please don’t look at me for the duration of this meal.”

  • i got drunk at my sister’s engagement party, yelled at one of her friends for wearing too much beige, and overall made a horrible impression on her new family-in-law when i fell out of their car. i landed in their driveway, lay there for a bit, said, “it’s nice down here,” and then reluctantly let her new cousin help me inside where i forced them to listen to me sing “the cup song.”

  • i wet the bed until, like, the fourth grade.

  • i was hanging out with my boss and her fiancé and made some joke, i can’t remember what joke, and like–touched??? her fiancé’s face?? and then immediately pulled my hand away and was like, “OH wow i am SO sorry!!! WOW!!! personal space, molly, read a pamphlet, GOD!!” and they both just kind of stared at me, like normal people might.

  • i once almost introduced someone as “my greatest love, [first name] [last name],” because that’s how i exclusively referred to him behind his back, but OBVIOUSLY not to his FACE. anyway at the very last second i had to amend it to, “my greatest—friend!!!!! my…greatest friend.” and then things were weird, forever.

  • just two weeks ago i fell off a public bus onto the sidewalk. just….fell right off it. a handful of very sweet strangers were all like, “are you okay, but also, we have to catch this bus,” and i said, “OH i’m fine i do this every morning, it’s my ~thing,” and Let Me Tell You that joke did not land.