The Haunting at Midnight

by Thomas G. Schmidt - follow mxcleod for more!

The old man walked gingerly down the dim lighted back alley official known as Keegan Street.  Once a bustling commercial area of Porterville, the old street was now in a state of decay and long forgotten by most people living in the area.  He walked silently, head down, much like any other man in his late 80’s.  But Argus McKane was not like other men.  That’s for sure.

McKane stopped at an old grey door with peeling paint and fumbled for his keys.  Argus had lived at 105 Keegan Street for longer than he could remember and could walk the area almost blindfolded.  Which was good given his failing eye sight and feeble condition.

The old man opened the door and went inside…

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О Гарри Поттере

Некоторые истории созданы, чтобы их перечитывать. Перелистываешь знакомые пожелтевшие страницы уже немного волнистые по краям и снова возвращаешься в детство. Кто знает, будет ли следующее поколение перечитывать Гарри Поттера, так же его любить как мы; будут ли наши дети бегать с самодельными волшебными палочками, выкрикивая заклинания, которые знали бы наизусть, будут ли изучать всех волшебных созданий, что возродились для каждого из нас на страницах этой истории. Мы выросли вместе с героями, поступили в школу и закончили ее вместе. Мы ждали новых книг, стояли в очередях, смотрели фильмы и играли в игры, мы были частью этой вселенной, придуманной Дж.К.Роулинг, и навсегда останемся. Давайте продолжать верить в магию, в крепкую дружбу и силу любви. И верить, что, может быть, наше письмо из Хогвартса все-таки просто потерялось в пути.

"Sakura-chan!"

"Naruto?" she questioned, turning to face in the direction of the call. She grinned at his running form. "Oh, hey! What’s up?"

His strong hands grabbed her shoulders, looking at her in wonderment. “How’d you teach Sarada to do that?!” he exclaimed, smiling so wide and proud. “She’s barely more than a year old, and she can do that? That’s amazing!”

She blinked, brows furrowing. “Huh?”

"You know, the thing!" Naruto pressed, moving his hands around to make some sort of a gesture she didn’t understand. At her puzzlement, Naruto rubbed his temples, brows furrowed. "Damnit, I can’t remember what it’s called, but it’s that thing like… you know when people rub their noises together? What’s that called again?"

Sakura’s mouth parted lightly, eyebrows shooting up. “An eskimo kiss?”

Naruto’s blue eyes widened, and he thrust a hand to point a her. “That! How in the world did you teach Sarada how to do an eskimo kiss at her age!”

Her jaw dropped open. “Sarada knows how to give an eskimo kiss?”

Naruto’s arm lowered, confusion sweeping over him. “Wait… if you didn’t teach her how to do one then who…” He froze, then, eyes snapping wide. “No way…” he whispered.

In one sharp, single movement, they both turned to each other and blurted, “Sasuke?!”

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Would it scare you more if i told you this story was inspired by true events?

5

Contraceptive Contradiction: Culture and Health Collide in the Dominican Republic

"While contraceptives are fairly available to teenagers in the Dominican Republic, pregnancy prevention is seldom practiced, at least before an adolescent’s first child," writes Luke Nozicka.

He continues, “In this Caribbean country—where one in 10 teenage girls became pregnant in 2013, according to the United Nations Population Fund—prevention is taught after a teenager’s first pregnancy, not before.”

“If there was a first pregnancy, [we] avoid a second one,” said Lilian Guerrero, 39, who has been a gynecologist for seven years at Maternidad Nuestra Señora la Altagracia in Santo Domingo, the country’s capital. “That’s what we do here.”

Read the full story by Pulitzer Center student fellow Luke Nozicka here. 

Images and captions by Jennifer Gonzalez. Dominican Republic, 2014. 

4

Witches Of Moonlight Falls (Season 4): Part 8}

🔮 - A Third Eye -

Eyes are everything, but when a magical eye lets you see into the past or the future it becomes magical. 

———

The moon wasn’t full though it’s power grows stronger as the clock strikes midnight, the witching hour! No black cats or crows are around so it’s completely safe to cast a spell. However Beatrice, Belinda and Bianca know that darkness can arrive unannounced.

The sisters chanted and the spell was cast *.*.*.*.*.* The memory spell could have terrible side effects but the witches are willing to take the risk to fill in their blank memories. The ancestor of the Crumplebottom sisters sits with them at the table, witch trails victim, Bathilda was burnt at the stake. Once the spell has given the charmed ones what they need Bathilda will disappear and be returned to the year 1693.

Belinda: “It’s working!”

Bianca: “Yeah, but my head r-really hurts…”

Beatrice: "The pain is commendable we must do it! The spell is giving us a third eye that’ll give us our answers!"

As the witches gain a new eye they all start bracing it’s arrival, but their vision is completely blurred a mysterious blue mist surrounds them and is sure to show them some ominous signs. 

The third eye lets the caster see whats missing in their life, what they must do next or the spell could show them past events that may or may not come back to haunt them. The Crumplebottom sisters will be shown the path they must take next, they know something is missing and this spell is the only way to reveal it. The sisters must hurry, they are unaware that the Black Widow is targeting them… But What will the three witches foresee or remember?

Only Temporary || Westner

Blake had been dreading this day ever since Morgan told him that she was leaving for Florence. They had spent all of their free time together for the past few days and now that the day was finally here, he really didn’t want to let her go. He had hired a chauffeured car to get them to the airport, so he could hold on to her during the ride over. The ride was going to take 20 minutes and he was going to utilize that time properly. “I’m going to miss you so much, Morgan.” He told her once the car was on the road. “This is torture to me, but I promise that I’ll visit you as often as I can. I have some free days in two weeks, so I’ll be flying over to see you then.” 

5 Marzo 2015 // Tumblr Day // 13:15
Oggi pioveva…
Era un giorno come tutti gli altri, ed io avevo dimenticato a casa l’ombrello.
Dal nulla arrivi tu…
Stringevi tra le mani il tuo cappellino bordeaux..
Avevi gli occhi grandi, castani, puri.
E le labbra meravigliose.
Ti sei avvicinata a me, con la delicatezza di una principessa.
Senza dire assolutamente nulla.. mi hai riparato dalla pioggia sotto il tuo ombrellino turchese.
Eri semplicemente fantastica.
Guardavo il tuo giubbino di pelle nero, i tuoi capelli mossi e le tue labbra che continuamente ti mordevi guardando le mie.
Non sapevo cosa dire…
Eri così fottutamente bella.
Ed io così dannatamente timido.
Non ho avuto nemmeno il coraggio di chiedere il tuo nome…
E sei andata via… abbozzando un sorriso e con l’espressione alla quale mancava qualcosa…
Chissà se saprò mai il tuo nome…
Buon Tumblr Day, Dolcezza ❤
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#thegirlwiththeumbrella
—  Gabriele
Do writers ever feel like this?

Do you ever just think up of two fictional characters who would be perfect for each other and then just cry because your mind is a terrible place and you can’t think up of how they’d end up together. Like you’ve got their backstory and their beliefs and mannerisms down but you just can’t make it happen. And you ship them so hard, but you know it’s still not the right time for them to be together. And you get frustrated because you know you’re right.