better the next day

queenhalcyone  asked:

Last year my school had an unofficial Easter egg hunt run by the library, but the student in charge of hiding the eggs took the prizes out and replaced them with notes saying "sorry, motherfucker. Better luck next time" on a tiny paper. To this day not all of the eggs have been found.

I could only imagine finding one those a couple of years later

procraesthetics  asked:

I wonder what would happen if Dudley grew up in the wizarding world but still as a muggle? like kind of reverse AU where his parents are dead and he has to go to Lily for whatever reason? do you think he would become bitter like Petunia about magic?

Lily remembered her sister, how there had been a time she was curious and delighted about magic, before it slowly sank in that she could look and not touch.

The last thing Petunia had said to Lily before she died was a chilly goodbye, ending a holiday dinner where they’d had a shrieking row in the entryway. Petunia had said freak and Lily had hissed better than this, better than this being my whole fucking world, Tune, do you even see yourself, are you happy–

And now here was Dudley Vernon Dursley fussing himself to sleep as Lily walked the halls of the Godric’s Hollow house. His tiny soft hands with their tiny soft fingernails curled under her chin, the same way Harry always had.

She passed James, who was gently bouncing his way up the hall the opposite way. “I think he’s asleep,” James mouthed over Harry’s tousled head. His hair was the same mess, bent down to peer at his sleeping son.

Lily stopped where she stood, her nephew heavy on her chest, her husband smiling, her sister buried. “James,” she said. “How are we going to do this?”

“Oh,” he said. “Hey. Don’t you cry, you’ll start them off– unless you need to cry, I mean, you go ahead, hey, sweetheart, hey, it’s alright, you just let it out.” He stepped forward, shifting Harry gently to his other shoulder, and pressed his forehead to hers. “We tuck them in, okay, that’s what we do next. Then we go to our own bed, okay, and go to sleep, and when we wake up it’ll be a new day.”

“A new day,” she said. “Another day– James, that’s the– I’m so tired.”

“So let’s sleep. It’ll look better in the morning,” he said. “And if it doesn’t look better this morning, it’ll look better in the next one.”

“You promise?”

“Better than that. I’ll show you. Every day,” he said and kissed her cold forehead.

Dudley had not shown up on the Potters’ doorstep with the milk bottles. Lily had gotten a phone call from the landline she still had installed in Godric’s Hollow, about an accident, and she had gone down to the Muggle police station to identify the bodies.

The cupboard under the stairs was filled with spiders, broomsticks, and the sewing machine Lily’s mother had given her when she married James– that’s all. Dudley slept downstairs. Uncle Remus taught Dudley and Harry to knock out coded messages through the wall their rooms shared.

In the backyard, beside a rickety porch and an ambitious hedge, James taught them to fly– first on little tot brooms where their toes brushed the grass the whole time, then out of the barrels of practice brooms James used for lessons and coaching Little League Quidditch.

When the boys turned ten, five weeks apart, they both got shiny new Nimbuses on Dudley’s birthday (which came first), and a set of enchanted Quidditch balls on Harry’s, to share. The Bludgers were enchanted to be very kind but Dudley spent long afternoons whacking them far afield while Harry chased the Snitch at his back.

Harry had a scar on his forehead, like a jagged bit of lightning. Dudley had no scars– the car crash that had killed his parents hadn’t touched him where he sat strapped into a car seat in the back, chewing on a stuffed dinosaur toy.

Lily did not believe in lying to the children. She was bare years off being a child herself, and spare moments on the far side of a war. When Dudley asked about his parents, she told him there had been an accident. She pulled pictures off the shelf and wrote Petunia’s old university friends for more.

Photographs came by mailman, the images still and unnatural to Dudley’s eye. Every day he’d gone out to play, for years, he’d been waving at the picture near the back door of his aunt and uncle on their wedding day, and they waved back every time.

“She was very clever,” Lily said. “Your mom liked to know everything.”

“And my dad?”

“Vernon liked… cars?” James offered. “That’s the word, right, Lily?”

“I didn’t know him very well,” Lily said. “He liked drills, I think; he worked for a firm that made them, and he talked about that a lot.”

Dudley brushed his thumbs over the dull edges of the photos. When Lily went off to Auror headquarters the next morning for work, James bundled the boys up and took them on an impromptu invisible tour of Grunnings Drill Manufacturing Inc.

They tiptoed down halls and past water coolers and ringing fellytones. They held hands under the Cloak as they dodged around the machines on the manufacturing floor, thumping and pounding and whirring away loudly enough that Harry and Dudley could whisper to each other under the noise. An elevator took them all the way up to the top floor. Harry whistled cheerily and eerily along with the elevator music while the Muggles slowly edged toward the doors and pressed floor buttons lower than they’d originally wanted.

There were boxes and cabinets and folders and desks and staticky monitor screens full of numbers strewn in endless grids. “Merlin’s knuckles,” said Harry, who was seven and a half and rather proud of this expletive. “People can look at this all day, their whole lives, and not die?”

“Work is hard work,” said James.

“At least mum gets to curse things.”

“But my dad liked it?” Dudley said, peering at a white board that was bleeding enthusiastic marker. “There’s a lot of things, here. Maybe he liked knowing things, too.”

When the boys asked about the scar on Harry’s forehead, Lily and James looked at each other. “You know how sometimes we sit with Uncle Remus and talk about a war?” James said. “Or with Ms. Amelia or Mr. Mundungus.”

“Mr. Mundungus is kinda smelly,” Harry said helpfully.

“It’s not nice to say so though,” said James, and Lily made a face.

“Are we raising them to be nice?” Lily said.

“I’m trying,” said James.

“You talk about a war,” said Harry and shrugged. Dudley nodded.

“There was a very bad man, in those days,” said James.

“Voldemort,” said Lily, and James made a face.

“He was so scary a lot of people don’t like to say his name, even now,” said James. “And he was coming after us because we had been fighting against him, in the war. He came to the house and he tried to hurt you, Harry. But it didn’t work. It hurt him instead, and gave you that scar.”

“Is he going to come back?” said Dudley, who was paler than his normal pink.

“No one’s heard of him since then,” said Lily.

“Where were you?” said Harry, because all his life they had been right there.

“Oh,” said Lily, but her throat closed up.

“We were at Dudley’s mum and dad’s funeral,” said James. “Our friend– our friend Sirius was watching you two. The bad man, he came to the house. He. Well. I.”

“Sirius died,” said Lily, one hand squeezing James’s knee and the other reaching down to brush hair off Dudley’s forehead. “You lived, Harry, and Voldemort vanished. And that’s why sometimes people stare in the streets, baby.” James tweaked Harry’s collar absently.

Two days after they had buried Lily’s sister, the Potters had stood together in the first chills of November and buried James’s brother.

Sirius had been burned off the Black family tree years before. Lily and James had talked to his cousin Andromeda, to Remus, and then they had laid him to rest in the Potter family plot. At the wake, they’d told old jokes about squirrel breath, shedding, and man’s best friend. Remus had fallen asleep on their couch and stayed for a month.

It took a two hour row with HR for Lily to get two passes to the Ministry’s Bring Your Kid To Work Day.

“He’s a Muggle.”

“He’s not,” Lily snapped. “He’s family.”

She had to get permission, sign a million forms, and she also had to take the boys in early so that Dudley could get smothered in the spells that would keep the Anti-Muggle wards around the Ministry from activating on him. “If a Muggle stumbles in somehow, they just see a funny-smelling supply cabinet and turn back around,” Lily told Dudley. He nodded and dragged Harry off by the wrist to go look at the fountain.

The windows were pouring sunlight into the underground room– the maintenance workers had just gotten a win on their contract negotiations and had banished the grimy rain-spattered windows of the previous weeks. The light hit the falling water, the golden statues, and the small excitable crowd of Ministry dependents who were gathering in the atrium. Dudley was fishing about in the fountain for Knuts to toss back out again, elbow-deep, and Harry was laughing and coming up with weird wishes to make on them.

Lily hadn’t said son. She’d said family, and that was true enough, wasn’t it? She didn’t say son– she had a son, and she had a nephew, a ward, another child who came to her after nightmares and scraped knees. It was not less, it was just words.

Lily worried about stealing more things from Petunia. Tuney had shrieked at her, in ladies’ restrooms and suburban foyers, had hissed at her in grocery store aisles and family dinners, because Lily got everything. And now Lily had her son.

Lily could just imagine it– could just see Petunia’s face twisting and chin stabbing at the air. You could have anything, and you took my son– my son!

“You left him to me,” Lily whispered, but that wasn’t quite right. “You left,” she whispered, and that wasn’t quite right either, so she strode off toward the fountain to ask the boys if they wanted to go see the Auror spellwork ranges. Dudley’s sodden shirt sleeves dripped all over the Ministry floors. Harry’s hair fell down into his eyes and they both grinned bright enough to rival the spelled sunlight.

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3

HakamiiShop Update: All orders have been sent! I hope they’ll arrive safely ;;
Thank you so much for supporting the shop! Until next time > v < )///
About some people asking if I’ll restock these charms.. I’m sorry I won’t restock them anymore ;;v;;) If there are leftovers after April 10(because local cons and stuff), I’ll open the shop again for it! (and probably 707 charms only ;;) 

6
Wrapped Around; pt. 3

Jimin x Reader x Tae // College!AU // 12264 words

Originally posted by minjiminieee

Summary: Freshman year was a mess and sophomore year doesn’t seem to be looking too good either. You know boys like them are no good for you but maybe they’re just your kind of type

Genre: Fluff, Smut

A/N: Man feels good to finally post this. Thanks for being patient ya dumplings (: ICYMI, there was a part 2.5 so check out part 2.5 before reading this!!!

Part 1 | Part 2Part 2.5 | Part 3.5

Previously…

You were meant to be someone he’d use to get good grades and if all went according to plan, you were going to be a simple hump and dump but hell, he hadn’t even slept with you yet and he was already so hung up on you.


Your mind is all over the place, your hands shaking and your heart pounding but you try to push through. You pick up the next practice exam, exhaling deeply to get yourself to calm down but it doesn’t work. Glancing at the amount of work you had left to get done, you simply groan internally. You’re not sure what kind of luck it was to have 3 midterms in one week, each one a day after the other. Sighing, you set aside the papers for a while to unwrap the sandwich that was sat on your table.

You’ve put off sleep for a while now, not like you could really sleep to begin with but you get a maximum of 2-3 hours of sleep a day and it really was taking a toll on your body. Your anxiety interfered with everything from your ability to sleep to your ability to study. You distanced yourself from everyone you knew and that included Jimin, Solji and Hoseok. The library was basically your home now and you only returned to your dorm to shower and grab the books you needed. You chose to go back at odd times, making sure you would never bump into Jimin. The only person you saw from time to time was Taehyung when he’d drop by your desk to hand you a sandwich or a snack. You know every time he comes around, he had that look in his eyes. It was those puppy eyes, full with concern but he never asked you anything and you were glad.

He knew all of this well enough, having seen you done the same thing the previous semester as finals week approached. This time around though, he was slightly more concerned only because you still had 2 and a half weeks till finals but right now you already looked… for the lack of a better word, horrible. You often forget to eat meals when you’re stressed so he takes it upon himself to drop something off when he could. His heart hurt watching you abuse yourself but no matter what he did, he could never get you to stop and tell yourself that maybe you needed to take a breather or seek out help.

He remembers perfectly well the way you had snapped at him last semester when he pulled you out of the library to get you to wake up and see that your body wouldn’t be able to hold up if you continued.

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i wish i could do things right and i wish i had motivation to get up

4

Everyone
Every hope
The silver lining that you’ve ignored

It won’t be the same anymore
Anyway
Anyhow
Bring me back to life
Everything I’ve done before
Comes crashing down, I’m feeling low
But is this the reality or just another dream
Maybe I’m falling
Believing
And dreaming
Or am I dead?
Ahh
Everything is gone now
I’m six feet under
Regrets and memories, for me to wonder
Rest in peace
They say to me
But I just wanted to be free
Free
Maybe falling
Believing
I’m Dreaming
Or am I dead?
Ahh
And this silence
Bred into my selfless violence
What have I done to myself?
Just to kill my pride
And now I am dead
Why cant you hear me right now

Nightcall ft. Dreamhour - Dead V

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Gsd8EjJfKV0

——-

GIF GIF GIF GIF…. this shouldn´t become one at the beginning… and then… it got out of control @_@ And I made 10 or 15 versions of that piece, because I am NOT HAPPY, how Jian Yi came out T___T I am so sorry for the fans, I will try to make something better the next days!! And I know now, that I can´t draw anything that I want… that head + face was the hell for me :( I have so much to practice, and on the other side sooo many ideas, that I wanna bring on my screen!! But I don´t like the last things I draw, especially THIS!! I wanna cry…. I am not good at all now, and one week ago I was so happy to get so many, wonderful new followers, but now I am like “why do they like that pieces of sh**??” I can´t make ME pleased, so how is it, that I make other people happy with it? ARRR my head hurts and my mood is not good, so I will go shopping now with my mom and hope that it become better ;)~

please know that every moment is an opportunity for change and growth and renewal and even if you spend every night in bed promising urself you’ll do better the next day, and you don’t, it’s okay!! you get unlimited chances! you’re a star for always trying, and i am so proud of you, and i hope you have the sweetest of dreams

10

In Memoriam Part 1; 
Collaboration with @ofkingsandlionhearts | Part 2: x

2017; in a time of revolution and a land of turmoil, otherwise known as Wales, Merlin, still waiting for Arthur; is living a quiet life spending his days as a librarian and his nights in a small, yet cosy flat close to the lake. Though in recent years he knows the quiet isn’t going to last, there’s a crackling in the air: he can feel the change, an awakening. On one of these nights Merlin makes his usual way home, says goodbye to his colleagues, pops in for a cup of tea and a chat with the lady who works at his favourite cafe, and takes a detour to past the lake to his flat. Turning on the radio that night (he owned a television once, but after accidentally stumbling onto an episode of Camelot that was the end of that) he hears another another tale of disappearances. There seems to be one every day now; completely random it would seem, but he knows better. 

The next day on his way to work Merlin senses that same unease in the air. He feels the air is quite literally being knocked out of his lungs but sees nobody there, he falls to the ground. The next thing he remembers is waking up in an operating theatre. “You’ve been in an accident,” a soothing voice tells him, “You’ve lost a lot of blood.” He doesn’t remember losing blood. He doesn’t remember anything. “Your memories will come back to you slowly. We’ll refer you to a psychiatric,” says another voice he thinks he’s heard before, but it’s gone with another dose of morphine. As it happens, his short term memories, however fragmented, do return to him quite quickly. It’s not until three months later when he’s on his way to work that he notices something quite amiss: a man in full body armour following him. 

“Your memories will come back to you slowly.” A year gone past since the accident and Merlin hasn’t had a good night’s sleep in months. The man is everywhere, infecting every memory he has - chasing him, haunting him, teasing him, even in his dreams. He faintly remembers other things, like waking up to strange conversations on a hospital bed, but they’re gone as quickly and sporadically as they come. His outpatient treatment is going well according to the doctor. She says he’s healthy, and the man is just a figment of his imagination he conjured up to help with the pain. They give him more drugs and sent him on his way. It never occurred to Merlin to seek a second opinion. He goes back to his old routine, says goodbye to his colleagues after work, pops in for a cup of tea and a chat with the lady who works at his favourite cafe, walks home, and turns on the telly.

2

Do Not Go Gentle - coming June 2nd for the @1dbigbang!

“Fine,” Harry says, pulling Louis by the wrist into the nearest empty on-call room. They stand between the bunk beds, hands on hips. “You want to know why I get so mad at you? Because you treat me like you’re so much better than me, like you don’t care about my opinions, like you know automatically you’re better than me. You fuck me, and then the next day you act like you want nothing to do with me.”

“I don’t-”

“And then you show up late for work, when you know that we had to be early so we could take care of that patient. And you have the nerve to tell me that I don’t care about my job! What the fuck?”

“I was late,” Louis interrupts, his voice rising in tone, “because I was on the phone with my mom. Because I was telling her about this patient and how it was giving me terrible flashbacks to her twin pregnancy, and how-”

“You were late because you were talking to your mom?” Harry says, throwing his hands in the air. “Oh, great. That’s just great. Way to take the job seriously.”

Louis scoffs, and just the sound of it makes Harry’s blood boil. “Oh, let’s talk about taking the job seriously, shall we? You’re the one wearing stupid masks and pulling out kids toys and trying to steal my surgeries.”

“I do not steal your surgeries!”

“You do! And you treat kids like they’re on a playground! This is all a game to you, isn’t it? Well, it’s not for me. This is a real, life or death situation,” Louis says, spitting the words at him. “And I just don’t think you’re cut out for it.”

There’s a moment where they stare at each other in complete silence. Harry can feel his blood pumping between his ears, can see Louis glaring at him. And then all he feels, suddenly and oppressively and desperately, is lust.

He doesn’t know who moves first, but he knows that suddenly Louis is surging up to him and Harry’s walking the two of them backwards, pressing Louis back against the door. Louis oomphs in surprise and brings his hands under Harry’s scrub top, scratching at his lower back.

“Lock - oh - lock the… fucking door,” Louis mutters.

(gifs)

3

Wednesday and Amelia are officially owners of their very own townhouse! 💛🌱

Person A had spent the day pretending to be happy and brushing all asks of “Are you okay? Talk to me, what’s wrong? I’m here if you need me.” because even if they are honest, A really doesn’t want to hear it.

Person B had gotten home and found A spacing out in their living room, simply sitting there.

B walked over to them, and hugged them from behind. Not saying anything because they know that A doesn’t want to hear words, just wants to be passively loved.

A curled up into B’s arms, completely distressed, only showing their pain through their eyes.

B had to hold back a cry from seeing A so distressed, but they wanted to be strong for A and held back.

A and B spent the rest of the nigh in relative silence, B showing A their love, and A trying to get their mind back to a sane place.

EXTRA: Even though A was not much better the next day, B still stayed with them, knowing that with time, A would gradually feel better.

GUYS THEY WERE SHOWING EXO ON ARABIC TV YESTERDAY. CAN YOU BELIEVE THAT EXO’S IMPACT AND POPULARITY HAS EVEN REACHED THE MIDDLE EAST.