about 400 people

On The Door Step - part 2

 Parings: Dean x Sister!Reader x Sam

Summary: In 2000, John Winchester opened the door to his current motel room and found a little girl at his feet, sleeping peacefully with a fuzzy white blanket tucking her in a wicker basket. Now, nearly 16 years later, (Y/N) has still yet to find herself in the world of the Winchesters.

prologue     part 1

Warnings: Season 11 spoilers, cursing, violence (I think that’s it)

Words: 1,850

A/N: Just wanted to thank you all so much! I have been in a dark place for the longest time, and knowing that there are you guys who like this story has made me unbelievably happy. I’m not going to bore y’all with details, so here’s the second part. Also, I tried finding the types of motorcycles that are in the Men of Letters bunker, but I could not. If you know, could you tell me? Thank you and enjoy! (tags are at the bottom).

(Y/B/M) = your birth month


A week.

It’s been a full seven days since my last outburst at school. A hundred-sixty-eight hours and counting, and all I can feel is jitters. I. Can’t. Sit. Still.

My leg bounces uncontrollably under the table while my fingers drum on the tabletop. I try to focus on the paper due for my Forensic Science class, but my mind keeps moving on to other things. More important things than summarizing a forensic fiction novel.

My fingers thread through my hair before I push away from my desk and scurry into the hallway. I need some air.

“Cas!” Dean shouts, his voice carrying and bouncing off the tiled walls. I run towards the room in which the voice originates from, finding Sam and Dean hovering over Cas’s twitching body in the library.

“What’s going on?” I question, adrenaline pouring into my veins making my shaky hands worse. “What’s wrong with Cas?”

“(Y/N), stay back,” Sam softly commands, slightly pushing me back towards the table. “Go get water.”

“This is part of what Rowena did, isn’t it?” I try to take a step forward, but Dean stops me.

“Go get some water,” Dean demands before turning his attention back to his friend. I glare at the back of their heads before hurrying to the kitchen to fetch a glass of water. When I return Castiel is back in his chair, sweating even more than before, and Dean takes the glass from me and sets in on the table before instructing me to go back and finish my homework.

My hands ball into fists and my teeth grip the inside of my cheeks. Don’t do it. “Is Castiel okay?” I force out, trying to even my breaths. “He’s my friend too.”

“I’m okay, (Y/N),” Castiel interrupts Dean from giving me another order. I push past Dean, picking up the glass of water and handing it to Cas. He most certainly not okay.

Dean takes a seat across from Sam while his fingers tap on the keyboard like there’s no tomorrow. Most likely looking for a case or something that revolves around their current struggle. They try to keep me away from the stuff they hunt and the struggles they have, but I still hear them talking. This time around, they’re battling The Darkness.

From what I’ve heard, this is going to be even worse than either apocalypse.

I sit in the chair next to Castiel, examining him closely as I try to figure out what the hell Rowena did. Even though I never met her, I know she’s a witch and what she vaguely looks like, all thanks to Charlie.

“Listen to this, maybe something here,” Sam says, drawing my attention away from Castiel. Sam’s eyes are on the screen of his laptop as he continues, “Uh, in Denver, three women were at this Cafe Elta, when their waiter- for no apparent reason- stabbed and killed one; one survived and the third vanished after furniture seemed to slide around by itself.” Sam scoffs at the article before glancing to Dean asking, “What do ya think?”

Dean doesn’t answer him, but simply pulls out his phone, calling the local police station. 

I jump from my seat as Sam stands from his. “I wanna come.” I blurt, standing tall in my spot and narrowing my eyes at them. “I want to help.”

“No, (Y/N).” Sam doesn’t even take a moment to think about it and I glare at him for it.

“Why not? I’m going to be 18 in (Y/B/M). And don’t give me that “it’s for your own good” bullshit.”

“You have school tomorrow.”

“Let me skip school, you two did it all the time growing up.” I point out, stepping closer to Sam while he gathers his computer and books. “I want to help save Cas.”

“We don’t want you growing up like us,” Sam says softly, trying to stay quiet so the officer on the phone with Dean can’t hear us. “We’re trapped in this life, you’re not.” He walks away, heading towards his room so he can pack for the trip. I cross my arms, looking to Dean and readying myself to continue the argument with him, but he collects his things and leaves the library with the phone tucked between his shoulder and cheek.

Huffing, I crumble into the chair Sam was sitting in, burying my face in my arms.

I don’t wanna have to worry about their safety. I can’t keep doing it.

“I’m not going with them,” Cas coughs and I lift my head to look at him. “You won’t be alone again.”

I smile weakly at him.


“Let me go with you, please?” I plead, adjusting my bag straps on my shoulder. I pout, hoping I can work my puppy eyes on Dean and Sam, but Dean just smirks at my attempt. He wraps an arm around my shoulders, pulling me into a tight hug, giving me a kiss on the top of my head. 

“Be good, okay?” Sam says, wrapping his arms around my shoulders once Dean had let go. “Don’t get expelled while we’re gone.”

“Okay,” I bury my face in his chest, wrapping my arms around his middle. “Promise you’ll make it back?”

“This is a milk run,” Dean smiles. “We’ll be back before you know it.”

That’s what Sam said last time.

I nod, weakly smiling as I step away from the Impala, watching as the two giants tuck themselves in the front seat. They wave good-bye before Dean hits the gas peddle and speeds off down the road. Once I can no longer see the car, I pick up my helmet and head back into the garage. I push out my 1932 Harley Davidson Flathead before shutting the doors behind me. It’s technically not mine, but it was left here by the previous Men of Letters and since no one was using it, I had Dean help me fix her up.

Securing my bag on my shoulders and making sure my helmet is on properly, I start the engine and it roars to life. The journey from the bunker to Lebanon High School on a map seems very long, but in reality, it’s too short for my liking.

I like school, but I don’t like the people there.

I park in the first spot that I can find and tuck my helmet under my arm as I make my way to the front entrance, watching from afar all the kids that pile in. We’re a small town, not many children my age… not many people actually. About 400 people actually.

Scurrying to my first class, I tuck myself behind my desk and place my book bag on the floor near my feet. I start to day dream, wondering what kind of things my brothers are doing at the moment.

Why can’t I help them? I’m not wanted at this school.

I watch as the room fills with blabbering teenagers, squirming a little in my seat as they glare at me. They know I’m an outsider. They know that my brothers and I have only been here a couple of years. And I feel like they know everything about me.

The school day drags on, and all I want to do is go home and spend my weekend watching movies with Castiel and try so desperately to not focus on the fact my brothers could be hurt as I’m sitting here in a cafeteria munching on Lays chips and observing the behaviors of my fellow classmates.

“Do you have to stare?” A girl sitting at the table across from mine questions, flipping her long brunet hair over her shoulder and glaring at me. “Do you think you’re better than us or something?”

I raise a brow at her, ready to bite back. However, I think better of it and choose to stuff another chip in my mouth.

“What? Not even going to answer her?” The blond guy sitting next to the brunet snaps back. “You’re right, Karen, she thinks she’s better than us.”

“Well you’re not,” the brunet, Karen, hisses, swiveling in her chair to face me. “Your family is poor and useless. Your brothers are nothing but alcoholics in line to die from liver cancer.” She spits and I clench my fists under the table. My body screams for me to lock my fist with her jaw and connect my foot with the blond’s crotch, but I can’t.

My brothers will be pissed.

“You and your brothers are filthy and don’t belong here.” Karen continues and I hold on tight, fighting back the words I want to say, the actions I wish to take. I have to force myself to imaging I’m breaking the mirror in my bathroom, the mirrors in the bunker while chanting, I can’t. I can’t. I can’t-

“Aah!” I glance up from my lap, watching as the window panes break apart and fall on top of the teens closest to them. The kids wearing glasses toss them off their face, the glass in the lenses breaking and cutting their cheeks. The students scream, running for cover under the balcony, protecting them from the raining mirror shards that fall from the roof.

I gasp, ducking out of the way and hiding under the table. My eyes connect with Karen’s before they fall to her arm that’s sliced open from the glass. I wince, pulling away from the break in the table where a few fragments slipped through and stuck to my shoulder.

The glass stops falling, leaving the cafeteria floor sparkling like a child recklessly tossed glitter while they were pretending to be a fairy. A teacher makes his way to aid Karen’s wound and another teacher begins to sweep a path to my table. She offers her hand to pull me out, but I’m too stunned to take it.

I did this. The ceiling was never mirrored. I did this.

“(Y/N), C’mon,” the teacher says, and I pull my eyes away from the mirror fragments. I can’t bring myself to take her hand as the burning from the open wounds in my shoulder scream at me.

I did this.

What’s wrong with me?

“We need to clean your shoulder, come out.” The teacher demands, and I feel tears slip out of my eyes. She takes it as a sign of my pain and assures me everything will be okay. But these tears are not due to the pain in my shoulder, they’re because I’m scared.

It’s not going to be okay. If Sam and Dean find out what I did, they’ll hate me. They’ll push me away. They’ll kick me out.

They’ll leave me.

The teacher grabs my hand, having enough, and pulls me out from under the table. She helps me to my feet and walks me to the nurses office while I sort through my thoughts, trying to plan what to tell them if they find out what happened. They’ll defiantly find out, but what if they think it’s not me. That’s possible right?

I don’t want them to leave me.


Tags: @straightasdeanwinchester

Next

*takes a scroll down my blog* well I’m going to make an archive blog to reblog some of the ooc and munday posts there, so they don’t clutter up this place. I might put the fanarts over there or on my personal as well.

David Bowie Bournemouth Winter Gardens May 25, 1973

‘There were about 400 people at the Birmingham gig in March 1972 at the time. I had barely registered who he was until someone gave me a copy of Hunky Dory, which was not, in its time a hit record. (…) But by June there were 1000 people, his biggest audience to date, at Oxford Town Hall. From me being the only photographer running around in those early gigs, in 20 months he had become someone everyone in the world wanted to shoot.’

Mick Rock

anonymous asked:

Today I had a white boy in my school (southern town of about 400 people) (I am also white) but he said a bunch of racial slurs and when I called him out on it I got yelled at by my *surprise surprise* white teacher.... I was raised in a very accepting household surrounded by friends of many ethnicities and sexualities and it really makes me mad when people assume that just because someone of that ethnicity or sexuality isn't around that it's okay to make fun of it or say slurs...

uGhHHH god damn

fight all 400 of them TBH

2

Fireworks explode over the Saint Peter and Paul Fortress and the Neva River during celebration of the 72nd anniversary of the defeat of the Nazis in World War II in St. Petersburg, Russia, on May 9, 2017. (Photo: Dmitri Lovetsky/AP 


Local residents carry portraits of their ancestors, participants in World War II as they celebrate the 72nd anniversary of the defeat of the Nazis in World War II in St. Petersburg, Russia, on May 9, 2017. About 400,000 people walked in central streets of St. Petersburg in a march named ‘Immortal Regiment’ while carrying portraits of their relatives who fought in World War II. (Photo: Dmitri Lovetsky/AP)

4

alanis: Clouds and shadows on Mars, photographed by Mars Express, 24th May 2012.

Between 28 and 36°S, 284°E, on the arc of highlands that surround the southeast Solis Planum. The crater split between the 2nd and 3rd images is Voeykov, about 75 km across, named for climatologist and geographer Alexander Ivanovich Voeykov (1842-1916). The small, deep crater toward bottom left of the 4th image is Los, named for a village of about 400 people in Gävleborg County, Sweden.

Composite of 3 visible light images for colour, and 5 monochrome images for animation. Colour is not balanced naturalistically, and the slightly psychedelic colours of the clouds are a result of mismatches between the images where the clouds have moved between exposures.

Image credit: ESA. Composite: AgeOfDestruction.

anyway i need more blogs to follow so please like/reblog this if you’re 

  1. not straight 
  2. anti ota///yuri (friendship is cool, just no romantic) 
  3. AND a 100% yoi blog or a multifandom blog that posts yoi and tags

thanks!!

Hey guys! So with the community growing a lot since last year (almost 6 million more from this time last year), i decided to bring back the Septiceye Sam Project! (although it’s a bit different this time so please read!)

The Main Idea: I’m gonna go to Pax East to hopefully meet Jack, and the channel is kinda close to hitting 14 million subscribers. While i do plan on trying to get messages for him, mark and everyone, i feel that i can incorporate a lot more people from the community through this project. Plus, it’s cool to see a physical representation of how many people are actually here.

Rules:

Since I wanna incorporate everyone, and i will be taking both projects with me to pax, only people who haven’t been in the first project can participate (it wouldn’t really make sense to have people appear twice). That way, the maximum amount i can do can be included. So:

  • like and reblog this post (if you liked from a different blog than you reblogged, just shoot me a message ^-^)
  • i’ll probably cut it to about 400-500 people (over 1000 people from both projects in total!) so please check my blog to see updates on this, as well as work-in-progress pics as i work on it (everything will be tagged as “ssproject part 2″!
  • also feel free to just reblog if you wanna spread it around ^-^
  • i will be drawing everyone as a sam, include it in a big fanart for jack, and will post it to tumblr. and if i get to meet jack at pax east, i’ll be giving both projects to him!

I’ll probably do this all traditional again instead of digital (it’d be easier to color digitally but it’s harder to sketch/write names that way :/) but yea, If anyone has any questions, feel free to message/ask me either @booperdoopcr​ or @elevcn​ (my main blog). although this is quite a bit of work to do, it was really fun and interesting to do last year, and it’s kinda my way of giving back to the community, so i think it’ll all be worth it in the end <3.

I’ve Been Putting a Hand-Drawn Picture of a Cat in My Company’s Suggestion Box Every Day for Two Months

I think I can go ahead and call this another entry in the “Long Cons That Didn’t Pay Off” file.


A few months ago, I put this post it note on my office computer.

Whenever anyone asked about it I’d say “Don’t worry about it” or “It’s personal” or “Oh, that’s right, cats, I almost forgot, thank you.”

Then I’d draw a picture of a cat, write a date on it…

…and place it in our office’s Suggestion Box. I did this every single day I was in the office. Here are some of the cats I made.

It’s important to have fun with your hobbies, so I made sure I varied my style and even embraced some weird impulses.


Hey, look at this cool fella!

Uh huh. I think I was sad that day.

I did this because I (and you) deserve to have as much fun as I (and you!) want, and because long cons lead to some of my favorite jokes. The ultimate end goal of this long con was an email. I was going to put a picture of a cat in our suggestion box every single day until some frustrated administrative employee of the company sent out a company-wide email that said “Whoever keeps putting pictures of cats in the suggestion box, PLEASE STOP.” I wanted that for two major reasons, but first hey do you want to see this cat I made?

That. Cat. Fucks.

Anyway, reason number one was Magic. There are about 400 people in this office (Cracked is owned by a larger media company). Those people come to work and go about their day, and one day they’d see an email about a very dedicated, insane, mystery person who has evidently been filling the suggestion box with dozens of hand-drawn cat pictures, one every single day. That email (the “Please stop putting pictures of cats in the suggestion box; this is a business” email), would serve as a reminder; life is weird and funny and stupid and sometimes stuff like this happens, and isn’t that wacky and fun? You live in a world where some goofball could get bored and draw forty cats with seemingly no end game or motive. Isn’t the world a wacky and fun place to live? Look at this fat piece of shit.

Reason number two was just make Soren and my other immediate coworkers laugh. The joke would be simple. We all get an email that says “Whoever keeps putting pictures of cats in the suggestion box, PLEASE STOP.” And then I would nervously crumble up the post-it note that says “CATS” and reassure the rest of the team that it probably isn’t worth looking into, and I wouldn’t draw any connections between that email and my behavior over the last two months. Then all of my coworkers would see what I’ve been up to and marvel at my dedication to the joke, because we’re all good joke-makers here, and Game respects Game.


But that email never came. I’ve been drawing pictures of cats since June, since fucking June, you guys, here’s another cat.

No one’s said anything. No one’s said a god damned word. And I know what you’re thinking: “The suggestion box is obviously just for show, they have it to placate the employees, no one ever checks it, and now it’s full of cats.” But you’re wrong. Dead wrong. I can see into the box, I KNOW someone has been emptying it. We even had an all-hands meeting where our CEO addressed the suggestion box specifically to call out the most popular suggestion (it was something about not pictures of cats so who even gives a shit).


Someone has been going through that box, at least at the end of every week. This person has been stoically ignoring what at this point is an obvious cat problem that someone at this company has. This person wants to go on pretending they’re NOT looking at pictures of cats every day, this person wants to pretend that the world isn’t like it is. You fucking rat. You fucking rat in a maze.

But you know what? This person (who again is choosing to REJECT THE TRUTH THAT IS ALL AROUND THEM), this person is stronger and more dedicated than me. I can’t keep making cats. I can’t keep making cats for this joke that’s never going to pay off. I had a lot of fun, I feel like I have a better understanding of what a cat nose looks like and I had an excuse every day to get up and move my legs a little bit, but I don’t want to do this anymore, so I’m stopping, so I lost, so I’m a loser.

But the REAL loser, I think you’ll agree, is everyone else who ISN’T me. They lost because they’ll never be party to the EXPERIENCE that I wanted to provide them with (completely free of charge, I forgot to mention). They won’t have the memory of that weird day at the office when suddenly everyone was talking about the mystery cat guy, and like wondering “Is he single he sounds cool,” or like “What if the mystery cat person is a girl, Janet, did you even fucking think of that it’s 2015.” Janet and Grimace won’t have the memory of that conversation, because that conversation won’t happen, because someone in this office refuses to do his or her part in what this voter is calling “The Con of the Century” by sending a simple god damn email. He or she robbed this entire building of a Moment and that, friends and ex-lovers, is the real #tragedy.

Update on life (I’m not dead)

November 2015 I resigned from the Mormon church legally speaking, although I never considered the Mormon church to have any actual autonomy of me in any way. I was a teenager then. As a legal adult (19) I’ve had yet another fundamental perspective change concerning my political beliefs and general perspective on life. Right now where I stand on the belief spectrum is Agnostic with mostly atheistic leanings, and I have become more closeted about my beliefs since I recently moved to a tiny town (400 people about) in the middle of nowhere in an entirely different state and can’t be nearly as outspoken because what I say can affect my reputation and therefore employability in a good amount of the places available to work. My situation has become drastically better since legally becoming an adult as well as moving to my new home. Luckily people in this town are generally polite and wont get offended if you don’t go to a church. Although I’m not in the most progressive of places things are better for me here.

Belarus march against nuclear power on Chernobyl anniversary

MINSK, Belarus (AP) – About 400 people have marched in Belarus’ capital to mark the anniversary of the 1986 Chernobyl nuclear power plant disaster and protest the construction of a nuclear plant in the country.

Wednesday was the 31st anniversary of the explosion and fire at the nuclear plant in neighboring Ukraine. The disaster spewed fallout-contaminated smoke over a wide swath of northern Europe. About a quarter of Belarus’ territory was contaminated and a 2,200-square-kilometer (85-square-mile) sector of Belarus was declared unfit for human habitation.

The demonstrators said authorities are increasingly allowing crops to be grown on contaminated land. They also urged authorities to stop the construction of the nuclear plant, which will open in 2019.

Unlike recent opposition rallies that saw hundreds arrested, Wednesday’s march in Minsk was sanctioned by authorities.

ok but listening to japanese radio news is so soothing. the way they’re delivering information about evacuating 400 people due to enormous fire you’d think it’s a documentary about kitten population in the country.
I mean, idk about other places, but in poland radio news usually have this tone of ominous urgency about them.

Wedding Kisses (Taehyung Fluff)

Rated D for don’t you just love happy endings, folks?

Requested by @neazzz

It wasn’t like Taehyung was a bad person. Of course not. Wanting to burn down a hall of about 400 people in it to the very ground at your brother’s wedding wasn’t an irrational thought when you kept in my mind Taehyung’s situation.

Which of course meant long, meaningless conversations with adults, polite nodding to his nonexistent academic achievements, and the restrained ‘No’ to everyone who asked about Taehyung having a girlfriend.

“So who’s the lucky girl?”

“No one,” Taehyung said politely for the millionth time.

“There’s gotta be someone.”

“Unfortunately-”

“Handsome 19 year old like you. Where are you hiding her?”

Taehyung sighed, his forced smile wearing thin. It wasn’t enough that he was the only single person at this wedding, now he needed to be reminded at a 4 second interval.

He stared hopelessly at the altar, no means of escape, awkward in his sweaty bow and tie, his 'best man’ glory long receding after watching the guests posing for pictures for the twenty fourth time. All he had wanted was to spend summer vacation sleeping his life away, and here he was, eating cake on his own, watching a hundred cousins flitting about, relatives talking animatedly to his beyond ecstatic brother, people he didn’t know planning the reception.

It was in the chorus of 'All By Myself’ that he was interrupted.

“You seem despondent.”

Taehyung whipped around, expecting another nameless Aunt to ask him awkward questions about his life. He was horribly wrong.

“Bride’s side. Stuck here for the next week. What about you?” she said, plopping down in the seat next to him, helping herself to some of his cake.

Taehyung blinked, his mouth going dry. She’s cute, oh god, she’s so cute. Say something smart, Tae.

“Groom’s side. Best man,” Taehyung said, mustering the deepest voice he had, mentally kicking himself. Of all the ways to impress a girl, the position his mother had forced on him on handing over a ring to his brother like a penguin was not one of them.

She didn’t question it though, nodding sympathetically. Taehyung felt his face go red before he could help it.

“Awful, isn’t it? I’ve been in this god awful dress for about 4 hours, and all I get is forced compliments, nothing but my fourth slice of cake to occupy my time, and everyone and their mother asking if I have a bloody boyfriend.”

“Don’t I know it,” Taehyung snorted.

She looked at him, her eyes wide. Taehyung blushed, looking away. He was the kind of shy that was regrettable to him by this point of his teenage life.

“Seriously? You don’t look like the kind to not have a girlfriend to me,” she said and Taehyung raised an eyebrow.

“And why’s that?”

“Well for starters, you’ve got that arrogant player boy aura literally thrown off of you. And second of all, you’re the handsomest guy I’ve seen all month, including that hunk of a groom at the altar, which is saying something,” she said without pause.

If Taehyung had been blushing before, he was completely red now.

“That was a little-”

“Straightforward? Sorry, I’ve always been that way. I didn’t mean to offend you,” she said, hurt reflecting in her eyes and Taehyung shook his head.

“I was going for unorthodox, really,” he said, grinning. She smiled.

“That’s not too bad. People say worse.”

“I’d like to hear it.” She laughed, hand on his knee. Taehyung liked the feeling.

“I bet you would.”

_____________

It wasn’t like Taehyung was a bad person. Of course not. Sneaking out of the hotel rooms to see the cute girl he had met just yesterday and talked to all evening wasn’t the worst a person could do. Not when you considered the fact that she had been running through his mind all day with the intensity of a marathon sprinter.

Which of course meant getting lost in daydreams, zoning out at the ceremony, staring at her from every corner of the room, wanting to die when he thought about how he’d be leaving tomorrow, and having palms too sweaty to ask her to dance with him even once.

He found her waiting, sporting pajamas, hair in a messy bun, but somehow she looked even more gorgeous than when Taehyung had seen her a few hours ago. She stood looking out to the hotel pool, her neck craned gracefully to the stars, lost in thought.

Taehyung lost his breath before he even had the chance to talk to her.

“Hey,” he said at last, and she turned around, surprised before she smiled. Beautiful.

“Last day here, huh?” she said, and Taehyung said nothing. After the hours of endless talking they had done last evening, he was at a loss for anything to say. She went back to looking at the sky, and Taehyung went back to looking at her.

“I couldn’t wait to leave, but now I think it’s your fault I don’t want to at all,” she said calmly, and Taehyung reddened, smiling at her flashes of frankness that had him crumbling. And in that moment, he stepped forward, taking her by the waist. It didn’t need any thinking or second guesses. He was leaving; they had nothing to lose. It was the most liberating feeling he had ever felt.

He grabbed her face in both his hands and kissed her till he was sure the stars in his eyes burnt brighter than those burnt into the night sky. Her and her jasmine scent, and her lips, those lips, was all that existed, all that needed to exist for that eternity. He finally pulled back to see her smirking as they stood forehead to forehead.

“That was a little-”

“Straightforward?” Taehyung completed for her.

“I was going for unorthodox, really,” she said, grinning. He smiled.

“That’s not too bad. People say worse.”

“I’d like to hear it.”

They laughed silently to the night sky or promises and goodbyes. Taehyung wouldn’t have had it any other way.

“I bet you would.”