clean stoves

Kitchen Favours - Part 2

You asked for a part two. I gave you a part two. Though its probably not as good as you wanted!
Prompt: After their moment in Pop’s kitchen, Jughead tries to confront Y/N about what happened. 
Warning: Smut reference.
Part One 

Originally posted by admireforever

The day after yours and Jughead’s heated moment you find yourself back at the scene of the crime. Back at Pop’s for yet another shift, one you were happy to work as it was one of the few where you didn’t have the dark haired devil that was Jughead Jones. A name that hadn’t released your lips since you moaned it in his ear just last night.
Oh, last night…
As soon as Pop’s entered the diner, you both fumbled trying to grab your shirts, sooth your hair before Pop’s saw the two kids he had known since they were children about to loose the last of their innocence on the kitchen counter of his own diner.

Neither of you spoke a word to each other after that. The flirty jokes which had become common between the two of you halted in an almost un-natural manner, one you hoped Pop’s hadn’t picked up on. You left the diner the second your shift ended, not even saying goodbye to the boy who had waited behind just to keep you company. 

Keep reading

ok yall think the Snowbaz Proposal™ is gonna be big and extravagant really i expected more from you baz is a mess simon is a mess this fandom is a mess so i present to you how the proposal is actually gonna go down

• Simon and Baz are in the kitchen preparing breakfast (Baz is cooking, and Simon is obviously just eating the raw ingredients.)

• Simon is sitting on the counter but it doesn’t quite work since he’s pretty tall, but not as tall as my boy Basil

• And so Baz is waiting for the pancakes to cook or the eggs to fry or whatever, and he just turns to Simon who’s sitting innocently on the counter, trying really hard not to bump his head on the cabinets

• So Baz turns to Simon and he smiles at him and they just c o n n e c t like they’ve pressed their temples together and they’re just grinning and laughing like the lovesick idiots they are and Simon is just so Smitten

• Mid-kiss Simon with his supersonic sense of smell gets a whiff of burnt food and Baz just groans and Simon is hysterical

• “Bloody hell Baz! That was my pancake!”

• “Piss off, Snow. You’re lucky I’m making you breakfast.” (But of course Baz is saying this with the Fondest Look Ever because Baz would cook breakfast for Simon everyeveryeveryday)

• And finally the breakfast is prepared and Baz is cleaning up the stove and Simon is still there sitting on the counter and he whispers,

• “Let’s get married.” Because he can definitely see the rest of his life like this

• And then Baz just eyes Simon and smiles a little, then turns back to whatever he was cleaning. “Yeah, let’s do it.”

anonymous asked:

What do you do when you feel disconnected from those around you or when you're feeling burnt out? What advice would you give to combat loneliness?

I write. I play music loudly. I put extra lotion on my face and hands, and I sing softly under my breath. I make myself dinner, usually something I haven’t had in a while. I try not to look at the news. I wear a sheer or lacy bra under a soft soft sweatshirt that has a hole in the right cuff. I take a long hot shower. I clean my stove. I call my mother. I put on make up and dance with my cat in my arms across the room. 

I grab a book and I go out and sit at the end of the bar and I order a double rye whiskey with almost no ice. I read and sip. I casually glance about. 

I play the music even louder and I take off my socks and I flex my feet. I revel in how many different places my feet have taken me. I might feel sad about the people who’s feel may have brushed mine. Whether it was my college best friend and I on the couch in my apartment sipping hot tea and laughing uproariously as our feet rested next to each other. Or maybe the first time my ex and I made love in the morning on the couch in his apartment and our feet kept brushing. Or the times my feet brushed against a friends as we stood close, or under a table in a crowded bar. 

I go through the packed and disorganized drawers in my house and find a matchbook from my favorite bar in Manhattan and I try and remember how I used the only two matches that are missing. I think about sharing drinks with friends at that bar and how nice it was to be familiar with Nolita and it’s streets and gems. 

I burn sage and incense. I don’t say a word for hours. I practice my signature and lament at the fact that Katharine never looks good compared to my rushed and crazed last name in pen. I water my plants and I rearrange all the furniture in my apartment. 

I text everyone who makes my soul sing, and never worry about them getting back to me. Just letting them know that they’re on my mind. 

Be kind to yourself. Excessively. Be sweet and gentle. Take time for yourself and do almost nothing. It helps. Then, take the time to be ruthlessly productive. Tackle your closet. Or a project you’ve set aside. Don’t stay still too long, but don’t rush. Just ride it out while staying aware. 

My horoscope for today said “Get the chores done in the void morning hours” and I know they meant like, the empty hours in the morning, and also that’s good advice.

But I couldn’t help reading it as “Get the chores done in the void” and I immediately thought to myself, damn, do I still have to clean the stove even in the void?

Post Your Spoonie Foods

So if you have a chronic illness, cooking can be difficult to say the least. While we might have different dietary needs, we’ve all got some creative solutions for quicker, easier meal-type foods. I thought it might be helpful if we all shared those things.

So what do you eat for breakfast/lunch/dinner that’s not too tough to cook/heat?

Rice a Roni microwave cups:

I wish these were cheaper. They’re about $1 per 1.9oz cup. I need at least two to feel satisfied. But they’re not tough to make by virtue of you just open, pour in season packet, add water, and microwave. No cleaning a pot, no stove time. Heat, Eat and toss out the container. They do seem to be brand specific? I’ve not found similar rice cups in another brand. If anyone else has let me know.

Birdseye microwave veggies:

Another easy microwave mini meal. They cook in the bag. So you can just pour out into a paper plate or whatever and eat. So quick & easy and these are usually cost affordable at $1.25 ish a bag. Lots of variety too. I’m not certain on brand specific of this, I think they make other brands for similar prices.

Quaker Instant Oatmeal:


I’m sure they make this in other brands. Just using what I’m familiar with. About $1.75 a box, you get about 10 packs. Depends on appetite how many you use for a meal. You’ll need a microwave safe real bowl or (sorry Earth) styrofoam bowls imho for these, if you need a disposable bowl. Plastic will melt, paper bowls deform. Only awful environmentally unfriendly styrofoam seems durable to the hot water. Either boiled in kettle on stove or microwave.

Uncle Ben’s Ready Rice:


Easy to make, but so far brand specific. About $1.75-2 a packet. Just tear open packet and microwave standing up. Then pour and eat. Different varieties.

Raman Noodles:


EVERYONE knows these. Comes in different varieties, manufacturers, etc. I’ve recently found the different manufacturers make slightly varied products. I prefer Nissin over Maruchan. But that’s me! Cheap, easy. Enough said!

Ok, those are my “easy” to “cook” mini meals. Please add your own if you have any!

Ha!! I cleaned today.. started at 11 after I woke up & ate a donut.. I didn’t do 20/10s today because it’s too hot so I just cleaned until I got sweaty.
I didn’t get through all my boxes because the ones that are there need to be shipped to Florida & I don’t have the $$$ for that!
Kitchen is all clean including the stove which can barely be seen in the photo but it was a greasy mess and the microwave was cleaned too!
In the bedroom I found out that the vacuum is broken 😭and I only own 1 set of sheets.. but all the stray trash & laundry is now taken care of!

lovebirds [sam wilson]

the morning after your first night with sam.

tagging: @redgillan, @mattymattymerduck, @avengerofyourheart, @wakandasoldier, @darlingbuchanan, @bemystucky, @idorkish, @iwillbeinmynest, @aubzylynn, @angryschnauzer, @almondbuttercup, @ipaintmelodies

warnings: referenced sexual content, innuendos

additional notes: i love sam so much. i picture him as one of those guys who plays is cool when he’s single but as soon as he’s in a relationship, he and his partner are insanely lovey dovey, at first genuinely, and then to just piss off the rest of the team. anyways here’s a little something for my favorite bird boy (sorry, clint). gender-neutral reader here. i originally wrote this as a black!reader fic but feel free to read it as ambiguous as you’d like! oh, also the reader here is a mutant with angel wings. they’re basically made of light so they can manifest them at will without having to fold them back in tight spaces.

“If you ever, change your mind…” You cracked another egg, catching the yolk in the shell before the it could fall into the bowl. “About leaving, leaving me behind, oh, oh…”

“Enjoying yourself?”

You chuckled, sashaying over to the trash can and dropping the eggshells inside. “Yes, Bucky, this is indeed one of the best mornings I’ve had in a while.” And it was true. You’d tell him you didn’t know what had you in such a euphoric mood, but you’d be lying. The dull ache in your thighs and the fresh glow about your skin was evidence enough. “Why do you ask?” You flashed your friend a coy smile.

Bucky grinned back at you. He was sitting at the island, clad in a hoodie and sweats. “No reason. You just seem happy, s’all. Who’s this?” he asked, referring to the music playing softly from the speakers in the kitchen.

“Sam Cooke, ‘Bring It On Home to Me,’ 1962,” you replied seamlessly, returning to the counter to beating the eggs with a whisk. In lieu of singing, you swung your hips to the beat. “Add him to your list. Actually, Sam might have put him there already. Want an omelet?” You gestured to the one cooling off on a plate next to the stove.

“Sure. Thanks, doll.” He rose from his seat to take the plate and moved next to the fridge, most likely for some sriracha, you guessed. The man added the chili sauce to everything ever since you and Sam introduced him to it. “Looks divine.”

“Less talk, more eat. You’ll need at least one more of these, I’m guessing, what with that super soldier metabolism and all.” You poured the eggs into the pan.

“Morning, everyone. Oh, Y/N, please tell me you’re cooking for all of us. I’m begging you.”

You hummed, adding cheese, bell peppers, and mushrooms to the mixture. “That would be nice of me, wouldn’t it? We’ll see, Clint.”

Clint groaned. You heard the scrape of a chair against the floor as he sat down next to Bucky. “Why does Bucky get one then?”

“Don’t whine, Clint.” Natasha, the voice of reason, your constant lifesaver. “I’ll make you something.” She passed you on her way to the fridge, squeezing your shoulder as she went. “Have a nice night, Y/N? You look remarkably well rested.”

“Well, I wouldn’t say that. I was up most of the night but under the best care.” You winked at her, and Nat pretended to gasp, scandalized. “I’m just in a good mood.” The song ended, and you whipped around, wielding your spatula menacingly at Clint, who had risen from his seat. “Clint, I swear to God, if you mess with the playlist I will punt you to high heaven. Back in your seat.”

The man sat down. Bucky chuckled.

By the time Sam finally made his way to the kitchen that morning, you had made two more omelets and were working on a fifth. More of the Avengers (Steve, Tony, Wanda, and Bruce) were gathered around the kitchen, eating and talking quietly amongst themselves while you hummed and swayed along to Parliament. “Good morning, everyone!” he said jovially, then he dropped his voice a bit, speaking to you only. “Baby, whose playlist is this? I’ve heard one note and I already know it’s good.”

“Sent to me by a friend,” you replied, giggling when you felt Sam’s hands on you. He placed them first on your behind, sliding them up to your hips. Sam brushed your hair to the side and pressed a kiss to your neck, right where he had left a mark earlier. “His library’s full of oldies. Poor thing doesn’t know anything beyond the realm of 1988.”

“Mmm,” he said absently. “Hey.” You turned your head to meet his lips with yours. “Good morning, angel.”

“Morning, handsome. Go sit down, I’ll bring you a plate. This one’s yours.” You kissed him once more before returning to your work. He grudgingly left you, singing along under his breath.

“Well, aren’t you two chipper this morning?” Tony remarked over his morning coffee. “Tell me, Flyboy, how was your night with the resident angel?”

You rolled your eyes, wondering if you should unfurl your wings in Tony’s lab again and knock all his tools to the floor. You always got a kick out of that.

Sam snorted at his words. “What makes you think I gotta tell you anything, Metalman? The things that happen between me and Y/N are top secret.” There was a pause before he continued, “But I will tell you one thing: it was heavenly.”

The rest of the table “oohed.” You slid Sam’s omelet onto a plate, stifling a smug smile. You grabbed a fork and flounced over to the kitchen island. “Here you are, baby. Hope it’s to your liking.”

Sam drew you in by the wrist and kissed you again, his brown eyes bright and sultry. “You’re always so good to me, baby. You know I’d eat anything you serve me.”

“Mmm, anything?” you crooned against his lips.

“Please, you two, we are in the kitchen. I demand a PG-rated breakfast.”

“Tony, you were the one asking about their night,” Nat piped up, reaching over to flick the man in the shoulder. “Let them be. They’re cute.”

“Hear that, sugar? We’re cute.” Sam kissed you again, and you sighed, wishing you could kiss him forever, like there was no one else around. You forced yourself to end the kiss, just so you could finally make yourself some breakfast.

“Don’t start something I can’t finish, Samuel,” you warned him over your shoulder as you walked back to the stove to clean up. “I’m still hella sore, thanks to you.”

Bucky laughed. Bruce choked on his coffee. Tony made an indignant squawk. “Jesus,” said Steve under his breath. Wanda was all smiles, though you found her approval undeserved; the poor girl probably had to suffer with not just your own thoughts, but Sam’s, and that must be torture. You shut off the stove, doing your best to rein in your Sam-centric feelings.

“You two really are nasty,” Bucky mumbled. “Tryna give Steve here a heart attack.” He clapped his blushing friend on the back.

“I think it’s adorable, but maybe save the gooiness for the bedroom, huh, guys?” Tony persisted.

You placed the pan in the sink, rinsing it with cool water and watching it hiss and steam from the temperature shift. You turned off the water, grabbed your own omelet, and strode across the kitchen with your chin held high. “We’re taking this back to your room,” you said, taking Sam by the arm. Luckily he had the sense to take his food (and Bucky’s sriracha bottle) as you dragged him away down the hall.

Bucky shook his head in awe as he went on eating his second omelet. “He’s a lucky guy,” he muttered.

Clint glanced over at Bucky’s plate, peering up at him hopefully. “Can I have some?”

“Absolutely not.”

persephone .one.

bughead fanfiction - unbeta’d - angsty - post breakup - ½

▱◯♕

“If we aren’t capable of hurt,
we aren’t capable of joy.”
—Madeleine L’Engle

Her name is Sabrina.

The new girl at Riverdale High, walking through the halls of their senior year with an air of confidence Betty only dreams of having one day. With short ashy blonde hair and eyes sharper than even that of her gorgeous best friend Veronica Lodge, Sabrina Spellman has, and is, everything Betty isn’t— mysterious, sultry, and unnaturally ethereal.

The worst part is, Betty can’t hate her.

Sure, she’s dating her ex-boyfriend, but she’s also her lab partner. Betty comes to find Sabrina is actually incredibly nice and infuriatingly easy to talk to. She also notices that enigmatic glint in the other girl’s eyes and thinks, maybe this is what Jughead wanted all along.

Someone who wears her individuality with pride and isn’t afraid of making mistakes.

Keep reading

Ferb A: Bates Motel Final Fan Fic

Norman slammed the trunk of the car before looking around the Bates Motel parking lot. It was empty. Nothing but leaves scooting along the empty gravel space. His eyes shifted towards the office where he spent so many hours of the past five years of his life. Going through the mail, typing up the motel newsletter, making coffee every morning and all his manager duties. The many times he stood behind that counter and greeted his guests with a smile as they signed the guest book. How it felt to hand over that room key. He was somebody. This motel made him someone. From student to employee, to manager and to owner. This motel has seen it’s days long before the Bates moved in but, it saw it’s best days these past few years. They made this place into a home. Mother made this place a home and together they built this little paradise. The motel helped them just as much as they helped it.

Norman reached up to place his hand on his chest where his Manager pin use to sit. He would always trace the letters with his finger and feel so proud of himself. He remembered his first day. Norman Bates was so excited he wanted to make such a great impression. He had a sense of real responsibility. He wasn’t sure how many different blazer combos he went through. He had to look the part right? It was representing this motel and his mother. When he didn’t feel the pin there he felt this sort of emptiness fill his chest. His eyes skimmed down the line of room. Each one held it’s own story. Each one had a customer that Norman would never forget. Gunner and his band of stoners, the spooky man in Room 9, the lovely family who had the puppies, Annika Johnson, Alex Romero, Marion… He could go on. They were gone and they wouldn’t think of this place ever again.

The sun was slowly making its way down the sky threatening to disappear at any moment. Norman could hear the soft song of birds as he walked across the driveway. Entering the office he looked around a few times. The smell of coffee and freshly sharpened pencils lingered. It was nice. His hand moved along the front desk and over the guest book that hadn’t been touched in many weeks. He remembered the last person to sign it and she would always have a spot in his brain. Moving his way into the back office he let out a heavy sigh. He remembered when this place was filled with boxes upon boxes of dusty old files and old photos and newspaper articles. Norman had completely gone through all of them and turned those dusty boxes into a few simple little files. That contained the history of this place along with those old photos that new sat in the filing cabinet.

Turning his head he smirked a little when he saw that old picture on the wall. The peep hole behind it had been filled in and now it was just a regular old picture. He dropped his head as visions of what he’s seen on the other side of that wall popped into his mind. He got that chill as he flipped off the light and made his way back to the front office. Reaching out he hit that switch and the Bates Motel light flickered on. The low hum of it’s lights was all he could hear as he stepped out into that still evening air. A deep breath left his lungs as he watched the sign bring life to this place once more. Closing his eyes he could still hear the sounds of his guests. Cars pulling in and out of the drive. Dylan sitting over there in that empty chair enjoying an evening beer. The sounds of children laughing and the TV’s turning on just loud enough he could slightly hear it from his post behind the desk.

“It’s such a nice place you have here.”
“We’ve been driving for hours so glad we found you.”
“You’re really cleaning this place up kid.”
“Our stay was wonderful.”
“I’m going to give you a good review on Yelp!”
“Thank you Norman Bates.”

It all made him smile till he opened his eyes and it was just him. Norman made his way up towards the long set of steps that reached all the way up to that damn old house on the hill. The windows lit up looking alive as he climbed those steps. God how many times did he run up these stairs? If these damn steps could talk. The time him and Dylan had to carry Mother’s mattress all the down to the dumpster. He stopped and looked at the faint stain where Shelby bled out all over the place. That time Dylan slipped on the frost and nearly broke his neck. That time Norman gave Emma a piggyback ride all the way up because she was having a bad day with her breathing. The fights that went on, on these stairs. The hugs that happened. The stories that were told. How many times he sat there on that step and just had his Norman thinking time.

“She can’t do this! She can’t leave me!”
“Norman let her go!”

Climbing that last step as he crossed the porch he reached out and opened that front door. The moment he closed it he was met with complete silence. This house has never been that quiet. There was this twist in his stomach and he had to take a moment to get a grip. Norman looked to his left into the living room. That old fireplace and that couch where he spent many evenings watching TV or reading or doing his homework. Norman stepped further into the room and his hand moved along the back of the couch. Feeling the material against his skin he gave a small smile. The room was dim except for a small light on the side table in the corner. The walls that were filled with photos were now taken down. Removed. Norman looked at that piano sitting in the corner and for a split second he thought he could hear it play.

His heart skipped a beat as he remembered that time Mother forced him to sing Mr. Sandman with her. Their many duets and he couldn’t count how many times he sat there with her as she played. Trying to teach him here and there but he could only manage to get Twinkle Twinkle Little Star just right. She was the piano player in this family. Reaching out he debated hitting a key and decided against it. The last sound that piano would make was the last song Mother ever played. Instead he moved his hand to the left and turned the light off. Norman walked down the short hall into the kitchen.

Dishes use to stack high in the sink and on the table. Piles of old newspaper stacked on one of the chairs. The counter wasn’t cleaned. The stove was a mess with pots and pans littered all over it. The fridge was empty and the floor hadn’t been swept. Norman let this place go and he was ashamed of that. That’s why he took it upon himself this morning to clean every inch of this kitchen. Just how she wanted it. Just how she left it. He could hear the sizzle of the frying pan and the smell of pot roast in the oven. The table was set and decorated with fresh flowers. He could hear that hum as Mother moved along the room. This was her work space. This was her happy place. It made Norman smile before he turned to head down into the basement.

The basement flooded with light with that flip of the switch. Norman’s steps echoed as he climbed down those old wood steps. Looking around the place was pretty dusty but Norman didn’t touch too much down here. Just his work space and new repaired furnace on those chilled evenings and the freezer. Looking over his work station everything was cleaned up. A faint dust rested upon the table’s surface where his taxidermy equipment use to sit. Boxes of old junk filled the shelves and after all these years Norman never touched any of it. Opening the freezer it was now warm as it had been shutoff. None of the freezers worked anymore and there was still that old yellow caution taped strung here and there. That sickening crime scene tape that only made his stomach burn. There was still some of his creations hiding down here. They would be left behind.

Just as Norman was about to leave he stopped seeing a dusty book just under the step. Curious he reached down and pulled it from it’s hiding spot. Blowing the dust off the cover it was that old taxidermy book Mother had gotten him years ago. He wondered where it had gone. He felt his heart swell as he exited the basement and turned the lights off one last time before shutting the door. He walked past the laundry room that was all cleaned out. Passing the kitchen he set the book down on the table before going upstairs. He was met with the memories of all those fights they had. The stomping of steps met his ears and the shouting echoed around the house.

“Norman please!”

“I don’t trust you anymore and that changes everything!”

“Stop it Norman.”

“The game was we were devoted to each other. That no one could ever come between us. We loved each other more than anyone could love another person.”

Norman could hear it all. The crying and the slam of the door. These doors slammed a lot in this house. The stomping of steps and the anger that would fill the upstairs. Norman was met with his bedroom door wide open. Standing in the doorway he skimmed as everything looked to be in place. Bed was made. The desk was cleaned off. The bookcase was empty. He could still hear the pitter-patter of Juno’s paws as she ran through the house. How many times was Norman confined to that bed? After one of his blackouts or being sick or after being stuck in a box for a few days. The room still faintly smelled like books and laundry cleaner. Norman looked at the door connecting the two bedrooms. This door still didn’t shut or lock right ever since he broke it that one day.

Despite the upstairs having so many horrible moments it had it’s good. Norman turned off the light and shut the door. Walking by the bathroom that smelled of bleach he went to Dylan’s old room. It was kinda how Dylan left it except Norman did go in and straighten things up. Few things on the walls. Mainly pictures of cars and hunting photos and girls. Random football and gun magazines on the floor. He left behind a couple shirts and a hat or two. Norman gathered up the left behind trash and tossed it into the bin near the door. It had that Dylan musk mixed with dust lingering in the air. Dylan…

“I’m a man now not her little boy and I wanna be a good man. I trust your judgment if you think this is the right thing to do. You’re my brother, you know? I wanna be there for you. We’re a family and we love each other we’ll work through it.”

“Get her back, Dylan! Get her back!”
“Calm down! You have to!! She’s coming back!”
“She’s not gonna come back! She hates me! She hates me Dylan and it’s all your fault!”

“Please, Norman.. Everything I’ve built with Mom, it’ll, it’ll all be destroyed.”

“You wouldn’t actually hurt anybody though, would you Norman?”

Norman stood in the doorway of Mother’s room. The last room in the house he wanted to be. The light near the window was on and there was this welcoming glow to it. Hands in his pockets he stepped further into the room. This warm air wrapped around him and he could smell her perfume. Norman closed his eyes and got lost for a moment. He could feel her. Her arms wrapped around him so tightly. Pulling him in for a hug as she kissed his cheek. He could feel her warm embrace as she ran her hand through his hair. That smile on her face. A smile that was burned into his mind. That bright beautiful smile of a woman who was finally happy and finally at peace with the craziness around her. A woman who overcome everything life thrown her way. She was a warrior and she was his hero.

“I love you, Norman.”
“I love you too, Mother.”

“You mean more to me than anyone in the world.”

The voices echoed in his head she was still there. Smiling brightly at him as she took his hands and gave them a firm squeeze. There was this bubble building up in his chest. This emotion was building and it was making it’s way into his throat. “Hey..” Her voice was soft and comforting. “You’re a good boy, Norman.” She bit her lip and thought for a second. Norman’s misty eyes were focused on her as she spoke so softly. “You’re everything. Everything to me Norman.” She leaned in and pressed another kiss to his cheek. “There’s a cord between our hearts.” Those memories of that night on the lake came flooding back to him at her words. He couldn’t form any of his own at the moment as tears fought to fall from his baby blue eyes. He suddenly didn’t want to let go. He couldn’t let go. He couldn’t let go of her. That familiar pull and power she had over him all these years was slowly creeping back into him. His hands grasped hers tightly and she gave him a sad smile. “It will be okay. Got it? YOU can do THIS.” Norman softly nodded his head and she pressed a kiss to the corner of his mouth as she playfully added. “Now get the hell outta here.”

Norman’s eyes flew open and frantically looked for her. The bed, the closet, near the window, behind him. She wasn’t there. His hands shook as he brought them up to his face. Taking a moment to collect himself. That warm embrace he had felt was gone. The smell of her perfume was no longer in the air. It just a still room that held so many memories that were now put to rest. Forcing himself he crossed the room and turned the light off. He took a second to brush his hand over freshly washed bedspread. The silence in the room was making his ears hurt. Looking over towards the closet where all her dress use to be.. You can do this Norman. With that Norman walked out of the room and shut the door behind him.

Making his way quickly down the stairs he dropped by the kitchen again. Reaching out and collecting the book he had set there. One last look around he gave a firm nod. As he headed for the front door he stopped suddenly. There it was. He could hear that old record player turn on as Bobby Darin faintly filled the house. There it was again. That pull. That desire to stay with her. His hand grasped the door handle and he got his grip again and walked out of that old house on the hill. Locking it up behind him he could still hear that old tune as he climbed down the stairs. The sun was nearly down casting the sky in this pinkish orange. He looked out at that parking lot, the Bates Motel sign lit high above. The For Sale sign stuck just below the No Vacancy sign. He would never see this again.

His heart pounded so hard in his chest as he made his way towards the car. Tossing the book in through the window.

“We came here to start over, I am starting over.”

“We’ve been through a lot and this is our chance to start over.”

Norman Bates looked up at that old house that had been his home as well as his prison for the past years. Piling in this damn car with whatever it could hold and moving to White Pine Bay was an adventure. A town full of weirdos who at first didn’t welcome the Mother and Son but then found them worthy to be apart of their community. Moving here and running this motel was a fight for survival, a fight for acceptance and a fight to succeed. Behind all this fighting was just a family trying to find their place in the world. Trying to start over and along the way only grew strong and bigger. Many had doubted them and they hit a lot of roadblocks. This wasn’t your average family. Just a confused, loving boy and his Mother trying to make a life for themselves. Sure this rundown motel and that old house might have seen it’s share of tears and blood and bodies but also laughter and undying love. This old house. This old motel. Was just a spot on the road but it was a dream. It was her dream.

“We own a motel, Norman Bates!”

A few tears fell from Norman’s eyes but he quickly brushed them away. Suddenly he couldn’t hear that old record player anymore. No longer could he feel the soul that had been dancing her heart away in that old house. For the first time in his life he was alone. Truly alone. Mother was gone. Giving the Bates Motel sign one last smile Norman climbed into his car and pulled out of that drive way, never looking back.

The End..


agoraphobic || luke hemmings

requested

Your fingers tugged gently at the hem of your shirt.

Luke absolutely took notice.

His hand left the steering wheel and found its way to one of yours. He gently grabbed it, and held it, caressing his thumb across the back of it.

“It’s just for a little bit.” He reminds you.

“Luke… I really don’t want to.” You twist your free hand up into the sleeve of the jacket you’re wearing.

“Baby I promise.” He looks over at you.

Keep reading

What Hides In Plain Sight

A/N: So this is my first actually planned planned lol fic! I have no idea how long it’s going to be, or what the update schedule will be for now! 

Natsu Dragneel is just an ordinary 21 year old trying to get by on his craft’s business, keep his landlady off his ass, and grow his friendship with his new weird neighbor Lucy. Without revealing that he’s a witch. Or his cat can fly and talk. So maybe Natsu isn’t that normal. Things take a serious left turn for him when people from his past start showing up, and he and Lucy as well as some new -and old- friends travel across Fiore trying to find some answers. But the question is, will they be happy with what they find?

Wiccan!Natsu AU

Pairings: Nalu, Gruvia, Gajevy, Fairy Tail

Words: 2157

Rating: M

Part: Part One,  Part Two, Part Three, Part Four, Part Five, Part Six, Part Seven, Part Eight, Part Nine, Part Ten, Part Eleven, Part Twelve, Part Thirteen, Part Fourteen,Part Fifteen, Part Sixteen, Part Seventeen, Part Eighteen, Part Nineteen, Part Twenty, Part Twenty One, Part Twenty Two, Part Twenty Three

Natsu Dragneel did not freak out. He did, however, from time to time, perchance, become acutely aware of how much of a shit disturbing cat he had, and said cat’s ability to somehow break into the apartment across the hall from him. The one that a new tenant had just recently moved into, that Natsu had not yet met. He didn’t really care about what other people thought about him - he didn’t exactly socialize- but he figured that his cat tearing up all of their furniture or getting into their fridge would be a truly horrible way to meet someone.

So had Natsu decided the only available option would be to break into their flat.

“Happy!” Natsu hissed, dropping down to his hands and knees to look beneath the large cream sofa in the living room. His cheek was pressed firmly against the soft carpet as he craned his neck to look into the darkness that separated the furniture and the floor, glaring when all he saw was two pens and a handful of change. A slight rustle from the kitchen caught his attention and Natsu jerked his head up, cracking it on the low wooden coffee table behind him. Natsu let out a low groan, and tenderly rubbed the now sore spot by the crown of his head. The fridge door was open and blocking his view, but Natsu knew what Happy was searching for. “Happy, you can’t just break into someone’s apartment and take their food.” Natsu chastised as he walked around the sofa and short bookshelf that rested against it’s back. When he finally got to the kitchen Natsu crossed his arms and rolled his eyes at the cat’s sad face. Looking over the contents of the fridge Natsu let out a small chuckle and relaxed his stance. “Of course she’s not going to have raw fish laying around buddy,” Natsu sighed at Happy’s watery eyes, bending down to scoop up the feline. “I know you smelt it earlier, but maybe she ate it,”. The cat shot him an aghast look before leaping from his arms and running down the hall, dashing into the girl’s bedroom.

Well, Natsu had assumed it was a girl from the vanilla scent the already permeated the air in the apartment. Not to mention the ten pairs of boots and heels he had seen in the front entrance. Really, why did someone need that many different things to wear on their feet? This entire apartment confused him if Natsu was honest. The furniture looked brand new and high end, plush cream upholstery and dark wooden accents on the matching reading chair to the sofa. A lush dark carpet designated the living room space, which also boasted an average sized flat screen, or at least what Natsu though would count as ‘average’ for someone who could afford a flat screen. The off-white walls that were standard with the apartment flowed nicely with the look of the open floor space, while in Natsu’s they were smudged and stood out from his mixed-matched furniture. A small sandalwood table by the window had a tiny flower pot -freshly planted- and two chairs, though Natsu guessed that one was more for show than another person. Overall the room looked like it had been ripped from one of those home design magazines, the glass and white plastic cabinets and stone countertops of the standard kitchen included. 

Keep reading

How badly am I avoiding editing:

I cleaned under the washer and dryer to remove lint;  I scrubbed the stove with vinegar and cornstarch, scrubbed the wall behind the stove and over the counter and pulled out the stove (gross) and vacuumed and scrubbed the icky floor and cabinets under and beside said stove.

Laundry is in process.  Chickpea salad made.  Walk done.  Vacuuming mostly done; dishes in progress and I’m starting to scrub the trim I’m gonna paint next weekend with rubbing alcohol.

But at least I’m not dizzy, nauseous or suffering a migraine or blurry vision.  I just am at the point with the book where I sort of hate it after all the edits.  It’s the:  nothing I do will ever be good enough and no one will ever like it phase.

Especially while reading Kresely Cole’s Pleasure of a Dark Prince which good lord, it’s hot and so so good.  I keep smiling at certain lines.  He’s a Scottish werewolf and she’s a valkryie sworn to be an archer for a goddess and forgo any uh earthly pleasures with men.  It’s just so well written and good.  Sighs.  I want my book to make me feel like this book does and it’s just not doing it.  It’s so frustrating after rewriting so much even now years after I started it and it’s still not good enough.

Collapses on the floor and stares miserably at the ceiling.  It just sucks right now.  I’ll get over it but I need to moan for a bit.

A few times per year, something happens to throw me back into a deep depression. Over several weeks, I claw my way back, baby steps leading the way. Usually my life shutters to a halt, where I go straight from work to bed, sleep until my next shift, and repeat, and that has been what I have done since returning from Georgia, but today I watched a movie, cleaned the stove, washed dishes, and it is showing me that I will be fine in a week or two. Maybe tomorrow I will clean more of the apartment, maybe go through and throw some stuff out, maybe I will do laundry. This weekend, I will work on my truck, maybe wash it after I get it running. To everyone else, those things may seem insignificant, but when my depression takes hold, those are moments of progress.

Friendly PSA to those with gas stoves

Hey friends! I hope all is well. If you have a gas stove, please remember to be careful when cleaning and to use the lock function if you have it! I was at a friend’s today and well it is possible the house could have exploded. Her mom accidentally turned the knob for gas on while cleaning and the house filled with gas. We could smell it on the second floor! Anyways. It was a little terrifying, and I would like to impart some information we found while researching what the flippity fuck you should do if you accidentally fill your house with gas or think you have a leak.


If you know there is gas that isn’t a leak: turn off whatever is emitting gas, open all the doors/windows & vent if you have it to let the house air out, get the hell out of the house (especially young children and pets…not that you shouldn’t if you’re older but they’re smaller and more easily affected), don’t turn on/off lights or anything electronic in nature, don’t have any open flames, don’t make calls from a cellphone inside the house, don’t use an electronic doorbell or garage opener, literally anything electronic can spark…don’t freaking touch it or mess with them…cause a spark can ignite the gas…cause fire…or worse (explosion…seriously get out of the house without messing with stuff), go hang out somewhere away from the house (a neighbor’s perhaps), when you do return leave the windows open at least 2 hours after you don’t smell gas (just cause you don’t smell it doesn’t mean it isn’t fully dissipated), keep all the doors inside the house open so all rooms air out. It takes time to fully air out a house.


If you think there is a leak: do all the same stuff but make sure you call the utility company emergency line to report it once you are away from the house, don’t go back until an emergency worker has deemed it safe for you to return inside


How do you know if there’s a leak?: generally you’ll smell rotten eggs (this smell is added to gas so you’ll know when there’s a leak), roaring/hissing sound inside the house, signs of pipeline rupture or deterioration near the house


If you feel nauseated/headaches/dizziness/flu like symptoms after a gas exposure these are warning signs of carbon monoxide poisoning…call 911 (or respective medical hotline) immediately


Thanks for reading and stay safe! tl;dr turn off the stove, open doors, get the hell outside, and don’t touch anything electronic. The utility company said we did a good job reacting, but that if we could smell if that far from the source that it could have been bad. Feel free to add more words of wisdom if you have them!

Fearful Love Part 6

Jared x Reader

Word Count: 1,135

Warnings: language, hints at being in an abusive relationship, I feel like Aaron himself should just be a warning  -_-

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5

A/N: I fucking wrote something you guys!!!! Sorry it took so long to get out!!! Uhm this is really like a little filler part, next part is gonna have a lot of shit go down…..so be prepared lmao :D Please, please, please let me know what you guys think!!!! Feedback is greatly appreciated!!! Tags are at the bottom!!!!!

Originally posted by exbloodjunkie

It’s been a few days since the incident with Aaron and the kiss you had with Jared on his couch. You barely went outside of the guest bedroom in his apartment and the few times you did it was to only refill your bottle of water or get something to snack on. Jensen came over a few times to check up on you and give Jared some details about what was happening with Aaron. Honestly the way you felt about all that has happened to you recently made you want to crawl into the darkest hole you could find and never come out unless you were dead.

Keep reading

Stockholm Syndrome//H.S Part. One

Series Summary: Being a victim of Stockholm Syndrome.

Series Warnings: Violence and Sexual Situations, possibly triggering content.

Word Count: 1,052.

Word Density: “Pasta” and “Love”


HARRY

10 hours before, 8:10pm

Normal, if you were watching the scene in front of me, you’d think it was normal. You would see a beautiful woman in front of a clean stove, making pasta. You’d see the beautiful smile that made her seem too perfect.

You’d think she was normal.

There was no ring on her finger, but there was a reason behind that. Her hair was pulled up into some weird braid-knot thing that she learned from a magazine. Nails perfectly painted. Makeup perfectly done even though she had nowhere to go.

The way you look tonight was playing on the small radio that she liked to keep in the kitchen. She swayed her hips slightly, humming along to the music. The was she moved seemed so calculated. The was she added spices to the pasta, to the way she slowly danced on her own. The pasta smelt wonderful, she obviously did a good job. The smell intensified as she put a plate full of pasta in front of me, that and red wine. We always had red wine.

“Why are you so quiet today?” She inquired, sipping on her blood colored wine.

“Nothing important.” A clinking noise was heard as she dropped her fork on her plate.

There is one thing about Noel that isn’t perfect, her temper. Her controlling manner. The need to always have her way. Maybe there were a few things about Noel that weren’t perfect.

Keep reading

Hot Damn (Chen) *Smut*

It’s a hot day today, so hot that the air conditioner almost makes no difference unless you sit in front of it. That was exactly what Jongdae was doing

“Yo, will you stop hogging that thing and help me clean?” I asked, looking at him from the counter. We were both matching. Both wearing tanktops and shorts (though mine were shorter than his). He looked at me and stared.

“It’s too hot to clean.” he complained
“I’m cleaning. You can have the a.c later.” I replied
“Okay, how about we do this. You’ll clean while I supervise.” he smirked. I scowled before ignoring him and starting to clean. I wiped over the counter, too lazy to go to the other side, I laid myself over the counter to reach every inch of the surface.

Then, I cleaned the stove and tried reaching the top of the cabinets. Naturally, I started to hop, trying to clean it as much as I can. So, I lifted one leg onto the counter and attempted to climb up.

I then heard a mutter and turned

“Did you say something?” I asked. Chen shook his head and motioned for me to continue what I was doing.

-Chen-

*Damn…either this girl knows exactly what she’s doing or she’s oblivious. How can someone look so sexy in a tank top and shorts?* Not to mention the thin layer of sweat on her skin from the heat.

She then hopped off the counter. *God, all the right parts of her bounce. What does this girl think she’s doing.* The small tent in my pants are starting to evolve.

I got up and slowly walked towards her without her knowing. She jumped when I latched my arms around her small waist and held her up against my body.

“What? Finally wanted me to supervise?” she asked, looking up at me.
“If you think that I’m going to clean then you thought wrong.” I replied. Then placed my head on the crook of her neck, where I had a great view below. *Jesus Christ, they look delicious under this loose tank top.* She pouted at me. *She’s doing this on purpose I swear.*

I picked her up and threw her over my shoulder. Her round, full ass standing high in the air. She screamed and grabbed my sides like her life depended on it. I proceeded to walk towards the stairs.

“Jongdae-yah! Put me down!” her little fists started to beat on my back.
“Stop that tickles.” I smirked. She continued attacking my back
“Until you put me down.” she replied
“I can’t. You need to help me with something first.” came my response before I entered our room and locked the door.

“Help with what?” she gasped once I threw her onto the bed. I stared at her. Her eyes trail down and locked eyes on Junior.
“Ohhhh…” the light bulb went off in her head. I stalked towards her and crawled on top.
“But I need t-” she was cut off by my lips attacking hers. It wasn’t a soft kiss either. It was rough and heated. My hands fiddled with the hem of her tank top before I lifted it over her head and threw it across the room.

She giggled once she saw me looking at her Marvel bandeau.

“Cute.” I mumbled before ripping that off and it landed on her desk
“That was my favorite!” she opposed. I groped her chest and she moaned
“Batman is better anyway.” I claimed before taking a nipple into my mouth while my hands worked the other. Rolling her nipple around my tongue, her hands found its way into my hair, moans came from her mouth.
When I pulled away, she whined. I smirked and trailed my hand down towards her bottom and slipped off her pants. Her underwear came off next and I cupped it.

“Jongdae-yah..” she gasped when I slipped a finger into her womanhood. She made a motion to close her legs but I stopped her by placing my knee on her inner thigh. Another finger slipped in and I started thrusting them. Moan after moan came out and I was getting harder by the second.

“Jongdae, I’m about to-” I immediately pulled away. She was shocked and sent me a glare. I gave my fingers a lick before looking at her
“You cum with me in you.” I told her before straddling her and taking off my shirt and shorts. No warning was given to her before I sheathed myself into her. The both of us moaned. She held onto my shoulders while I thrusted roughly. I was only getting faster each thrust and her moans were getting louder. She left scratched on my back but I didn’t care.

I could feel her high was coming and so was mine. The last of my thrusts were getting sloppy. I gave one last thrust before she came. She clenched around me causing me to come right after her. I collapse next to her, hugging her close

“It’s hot in here.” she breathed

“You want to go sit in front of the air conditioner?” I cheekily asked, earning a smack on my chest. She ended up sitting on my lap in front of the air conditioner, booth of us too lazy to put on our clothes.

————————–

I’m so sorry if this sucked anon. Feel free to leave requests. ☺

MASTERLIST