It’s not mother’s day where I come from, but since it is in a shitload of countries…Well, I wrote something with the batfamily about it (I wrote it in litteraly 10 minutes, writing as words came to my mind, and didn’t proof read, sorry if there’s mistakes, and if it’s meh). Hope you’ll like it, don’t hesitate to tell me what you think, feedbacks are always appreciated :
It was 6 am when they came back from patrol. As usual, they found you asleep in Bruce’s giant chair, in front of the batcomputer, waiting for them to come back.
You would usually wake up at the sound of their arrival, however today, you were in a deep slumber…You had quite a difficult and busy week. Bruce, knowing that, stopped Damian from waking you up.
He couldn’t blame the boy though. He was too excited…it was his first “Mother’s Day” after all. Damian annoyed his brothers all night, asking for advice about what he was suppose to do on that day, and once he understood the purpose of it, got really excited about showing you how much you meant to him…But right now, you needed your sleep.
To be honest, they all needed sleep. It could wait a few hours.
Raising you delicately in his arms, Bruce took you back to the master’s bedroom. You didn’t stir when he laid you in bed, and you didn’t even react to the sound of him taking a shower. When he slipped in bed, you went to snuggle against him, but he realized that it was more a reflex than you being awake, and with a small smile on his face, he wrapped his arms around you and soon, he was asleep too.
The smell of eggs and bacon is what woke you up. And Bruce’s groans.
You opened one eye, and then the other, slowly, sleep still fogging your vision a bit. You weren’t sure what were those four forms at the end of your bed…
-I sure hope you guys aren’t naked under the cover, cause that’s a sight I don’t wanna see right after waking up.
A/N: it’s been forever since I updated this and I’ve been meaning to for so long. I just recently reblogged part 1 and it’s also linked down below so read it there! Hope y’all like this. Request for part 3~
Perhaps this was how your life was meant to be, and maybe it wasn’t as bad as you thought. You parents no longer monitored everything you did and nagged you like before. You practically had the entire house to yourself because you rarely saw your husband in the first place. You got quite far in your career because work became your one and only priority. Therefore, you were quite respected in the corporate world. People knew you were not one to be messed with. Who would have thought you were nothing but helpless in your marriage though?
However, you longed for more.You wanted someone to come home to. You wanted a little you running around the big house to fill the empty space. And more importantly, you wanted the love of a husband. You wanted a family. Was that so wrong?
You found it hard to believe that your parents believed that you were in a happy marriage. They were always meddling in your business, but they didn’t realize that you and Jimin weren’t leading the life you said you were. But as long as they were happy, you could stay in the marriage.
Jimin felt the same too. He owed a lot to his parents. Especially since they weren’t related to him by blood anyways. Jimin’s biological parents passed away when he was just four years old. He was fortunate enough to get adopted into a wonderful family a few months later, not to mention a rather rich family. As he grew up, he was groomed to become the heir to the Park family, but he was also showered with love from his parents. So when the marriage came up, he could do nothing but say yes.
It’s not like he was in love with anyone else to really oppose the marriage in the first place. In fact, he was known to be quite the player. So when he found out he was getting married, he was angry, to say the least. But he would do anything to keep his parents happy, even if it meant he was in a miserable marriage.
long mu, mother of dragons
a chinese woman who was deified as a goddess after raising five infant dragons long mu and her dragons developed a strong bond for each other, and have thus become an example of filial devotion and parental love.
Once a customer has barked their order into the microphone at the Popeyes drive-thru on Prospect Avenue, Kansas City, the clock starts. Staff have a company-mandated 180 seconds to take the order, cook the order, bag the order and deliver it to the drive-thru window.
The restaurant is on “short shift” at the moment, which means it has about half the usual staff, so Fran Marion often has to do all those jobs herself. On the day we met, she estimates she processed 187 orders – roughly one every two minutes. Those orders grossed about $950 for the company. Marion went home with $76.
Despite working six days a week, Marion, 37, a single mother of two, can’t make ends meet on the $9.50 an hour she gets at Popeyes (no apostrophe – founder Al Copeland joked he was too poor to afford one.) A fast food worker for 22 years, Marion has almost always had a second job. Until recently, she had been working 9am-4pm at Popeyes, without a break, then crossing town to a janitorial job at Bartle Hall, the convention center, where she would work from 5pm- to 1.30am for $11 an hour. She didn’t take breaks there either, although they were allowed.
“I was so tired,” she says. “If I took a break I would go to sleep, so I would work straight through,” she says.
Even with those two jobs, Marion was unable to save – and when disaster struck she found it impossible to cope financially. Last month, the city condemned the house she rented – the landlord had refused to fix faulty wiring and the leaking roof – and she was made homeless.
Her children, Ravyn, 15, and Rashad, 14, are now living with a friend, two bus rides away. Because of the time and distance, Marion hasn’t seen them in a week. She and her dog Hershey, a goofy milk-chocolate colored pitbull, are sleeping at the apartment of fellow fast food worker, Bridget Hughes: Marion on the sofa, Hershey on the balcony.
It’s a downtrodden two-bedroom apartment in a sketchy neighborhood. Sex workers stake out the busier street corners; many of the houses are boarded up or burnt out. The detritus of drug addiction litters the streets.
What a beautiful day it is to celebrate the wonders of nature. But may I remind you to cherish this earth everyday!Simple things such as turning the lights off when a room is not being occupied, recycling, & simply spending some of your time outdoors can create an overall positive experience for both you and the earth your feet are grounded on.
Here, a Laysan duck waddles with her brood in Papahānaumokuākea Marine National Monument. Laysan ducks are one of four endangered endemic bird species at Papahānaumokuākea, and practice female-only parental care!
“C'mon Aunt, Molly. What are you doing back there?” called out the teenager jogging few steps ahead her and giving Molly a chance to take a quick snap of enthusiastic granddaughter of hers. She smiles at her “little” tags and hits “share” button. “Coming, darling. Short legs and middle age, try not to forget that?”.
After the restoration of Musgrave Hall every year Holmes parents would spend their short holidays there and Molly & the Watsons were always invited. Sherlock loved this little family gathering and so Molly would make sure he’d not miss anything even if he’s busy with a case and couldn’t be there with them that year.
It was a funny saying that Lance used to tease his mother with when she forgot to do something.
“Mama,” Lance would say, a hand swaying in the air, “You forgot to pick up Laine!”
His mother would laugh back, only to throw down what she was working on and shout, “Oh Dios mío!”
Lance’s laughter filled the room, “And they claim that a mother never forgets.”
A hand slapped him up the head, “Well at least I know your birthday!” His mother exclaimed, her hand resting on her hip, “Unlike you.”
“That was one time, Mama!” Lance shouted back, waving his hands in the air, “How do you even remember that? It was like-”
“Four years ago?” His mother smirked back, “Hijo, a mother always remembers and never forgets.”
“Except for her five-year-old granddaughter who just got out of school three minutes ago,” Lance retorted back.
Lance’s mother would shake her head and start out the door while the teen would stay back and take care of his younger nieces and nephews while she was gone.
Now Lance’s mother stands in an empty room where the laughter was no more and quiet ruled. She ran her hand across the top of a chair where her youngest would sit. She watched the clock turn from 09:12 to 09:13. She drew in a breath, ready to start her morning when a knock sounded from her door.
She dusted herself off and hurried to the door, yelling a small, “Coming!” to alert her company.
“Mrs. McClain?” a familiar voice called to her.
She paused, taking in the sight before her.
“Hunk?” she whispered, “Oh my! ¡Gracias a Dios! ¡Oh, gracias a Dios! ¡Estás bien! ¡Estás bien!” She placed her hands on the other’s cheeks, “Are you alright?”
Hunk had tears in his eyes, “W-we have… a lot to, uh, explain.”
Six people sat in her kitchen, “He jumped in front of the cannon to save us.”
She was silent.
“Mrs. Mcclain?” A black haired boy whispered out, his gloved hand hesitantly reaching over and landing on her shoulder, a trait he must have learned from Lance.
“When I first got the news, I was devastated,” She started, “My husband had died only weeks before and my family was grieving.”We held the funeral two weeks later than due,” She choked out, “because we had to dig another grave. That one was so much heavier than my husbands. We knew of his time, but Lance… He wasn’t meant to go so soon.”
A much larger man stood up, a scar running across his nose, “We’re sorry for your loss.”
“My son is he…?”
A younger person shook their head, “We couldn’t retrieve his body. He just- we- I-” They studdered out.
Lance’s mother lets out a small sob, “How will I tell the kids? Their Tío, who they thought was dead, was alive… only to be told he’s now..gone.”
Hunk wrapped his arms around the old lady’s fragile body, “I’ll tell them. They should hear his other stories as well.”
She nodded, “You two,” she looked over at the white and orange haired duo, “You’re aliens?”
“Alteans,” corrected the one in white with a polite tone, “From the planet Altea.”
Lance’s mother nods in understanding. She gets up, pulling the attention towards her. She watched the clock change once more, from 23:59 to 00:00.
She placed her hand on the calendar on the wall next to the fridge, the paladins, and Alteans watching her closely.
She tore the top to reveal a large 28 on the sheet.
I’m late, but oh well. Life happened and it was shitty, so I wrote this to cheer myself up and I hope it works for some of you as well. It’s not betad, so the copious mistakes are all mine. A birthday vignette in honor of our beloved muse, Katniss Everdeen. May she never be without her toastbabies, her dandelion in the spring, and plenty of delicious food. RATED M for smut.
She plays in the meadow, twirling and leaping, pretending to have wings like a bird so she can fly. Her father needs only a word, though, to draw her from play and into their chores. The flying girl doesn’t view the chores with distaste at all. She rather enjoys them, especially the moments of free time they get to savor the woods. Like today.
“Come down from that tree, Hummingbird,” the girl’s father calls up to her, his hands cupped around his mouth to amplify the sound. She grins and flips so she’s hanging from the branch by her knees, completely missing her father’s gasp of fear and the handful of running steps he makes towards the base of the tree before her giggle stops him.
“Your Mama’s waiting with your birthday surprise,” he admonishes, the fear of a moment ago making his voice harsher than intended. The girl sobers, hearing the subtle difference, and swings her feet over her head to the branch below before scurrying down the trunk and landing with a soft crunch of leaves, next to her father.
“I’m sorry, Papa,” she whispers, her expression contrite.
“It’s okay, Katniss,” the father says, picking up the girl’s game bag and handing it to her. “But we should get going.”
Its hard for me to get excited. Me and my brothers are throwing a suprise mothers day/birthday (her birthdays tomorrow) party. And i feel like a bitch. Its hard for me to get excited on a day for someone whos done nothing more than buy me stuff to make up for her emotional neglect and make me hate life due to her pessimistic and mean outbursts. She may be having a period of niceness now but its kind of hard to forget that when she told me my brother should kill himself last week