found this in an old box

Minerva Mcgongall pulled out her notebook and turned to the page that listed the names and details of that years Gryffindor Quidditch team. Her heart swelling with pride she jotted down the name “Harry Potter” next to the position “Seeker” before closing the book and opening a second drawer. She took out a small, wooden box and rummaged in it for a few seconds before withdrawing a worn out envelope, inside of which was a short letter and a photograph.

“Dearest Minnie,

Hope you’re doing well! I’m the same of course, driving Lily up the wall as usual, she sends you her love by the way!

Now I know I told you that you’ll never find a chaser as good as me ever again, but it just goes to show that even the brilliant are sometimes mistaken. I’ve found you (made you!) a replacement who will one day outshine his old man by leagues! Enclosed is a photograph of your new Quidditch prodigy so that you may assess his skills for yourself. We have him chasing the cat for practice. He’ll be unbeatable by the time he starts at Hogwarts! The youngest Quidditch player in a century!

I guarantee it, Minnie. And you know I’m never wrong, though you’ll never admit it!

Missing you and Hogwarts terribly,

Lots of love,

James

P.S. Sirius says his marriage proposal still stands.”

Wiping away a single tear that ran down her cheek and chuckling to herself, she smiled down at the photograph of a small, gleeful, black haired boy zooming along on a toy broom, a pair of legs chasing after him and a young woman laughing hysterically in a corner.

“Right again, Mr. Potter.”

5

While rummaging through a box he found in the attic, England uncovers some old photos, along with old memories.

(These took so long to make, I hope you guys like them! I was trying to put subtle stuff in the photos to try and tell a story, I’ve never done it before so it was good practice! I might end up writing something for this if I decide to stop being lazy.)

LOST PARAKEET

Hey guys, I found this posting on Craigslist and received permission from the owners to cross post this. 

If you or someone you know is in the Wichita, Kansas area, please be on the lookout for a lost parakeet.  12 year old “Charlie” escaped his travel box sometime yesterday (3/19) in the vicinity of Greenwich and Pawnee.  Coloring is gray with blue/pink chest and stomach (picture embedded)  No band. The wind yesterday was blowing south-southeast anywhere from 10 to 25 miles an hour, and today south-southeast at approximately 12 mph plus bursts.  Not sure where that would put him by now. 

Owners are distraught and offering 50 dollar reward but the bird is priceless to them.  His bondmate is extremely distressed, I was given permission to list the owners number for texting, so if anyone does happen to spot him, please notify Jay and Em at (316) 258-8193.  Please take a photograph, even if you can’t trap or coax him down, that will at least keep their hopes alive of getting him back.  Jay is disabled and Charlie is his therapeutic companion bird. 

If you don’t live near here, please reblog this in the hope of finding someone who is.  The desperation in Em’s messages is absolutely devastating, this bird is their precious baby.  If, like I do, you follow any fellow birblr you can get your hands on, you know there has been loss today.  Please help this couple hope there won’t be more.

(2/3) “One day I found a box of old love letters that my dad had written to my mom. They were romantic letters. They said nice things. I was surprised because I’d never seen him say those things. All of that had disappeared before I was born. My father had never told me anything about himself. Everything I know about him, I learned from my mom. She told me that the romance had been an act. She told me that she later realized he was a very cold man. But Mom always told me that we shouldn’t blame him. She said he had a very rough childhood. His father abandoned the family when he was very young. His mother married another man, and sent him to live with an uncle. She raised an entirely new family and left my father behind. He had a very lonely childhood. So my mother always told me: ‘You must not blame your father.’ She told me that always. Especially after she got sick.”

(Santiago, Chile)

A Simple Suggestion

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Originally posted by akumatisedmari

So I had a dream last night. A dream that Ladybug and Chat Noir moved out of their homes into a studio apartment together so they could be around each other and get to akuma attacks quickly and always be alert.

But they never detransformed. They were always suited up and just lived together like two best friends and kept the city safe.

@philosophy-and-coffee said it’d make a neat fic idea and had a few cute ideas to add on to it, so…naturally, I wrote it. 

A Simple Suggestion
Summary: Breaks from patrol often allow time for Ladybug and Chat Noir to talk and be themselves. But when a silly joke starts to seem all that…well, not silly, the two find themselves considering something neither of them had ever before: moving in together. 
The tricky part is still keeping their identities a secret.
Rated: G (might change to T later)
Pairing(s): Ladybug/Chat Noir

Chapter 1 - A joke
Word count: 1,464
Read on: ao3 

Next Chapter >>


It had started out as a joke.

Chat Noir had thrown the idea into the air one night when they’d taken a break from patrol. The city was quiet, the breeze that danced through the open sky was refreshing, and the laughter that had accompanied his voice had made Marinette smile all too wide.

“What if we moved in together?” he’d asked with a nervous twitch of his tail. “I’ve been preparing to move out for a while, but…I don’t know. Something about the thought of living alone makes me nervous.”

“You mean-” Marinette’s eyes widened. “Us? Move in together? Like, Ladybug and Chat Noir living together?”

“Yeah,” Chat laughed. “What if?”

At first, she’d given her partner nothing more than a chuckle and a dismissive pat on the shoulder, shaking her head at the simple notion. It had been such a funny thing for him to suggest that the giggles that rose from her throat had been all too hard to suppress. Even if she secretly didn’t despise the idea, she knew it would never work out.

“How would we even manage that?” she asked, swinging her legs over the ledge of the apartment complex they had paused upon and taking in a breath of the atmosphere. She could detect a small hint of food cooking somewhere, and in the distance music played, which added to the comforting ambiance of the city she adored so much. “We’d just walk around in our own home transformed, like it was a completely normal thing?”

Chat Noir offered a shrug, looking a tad sheepish. “Hah, yeah, I guess that does sound kind of stupid.”

A frown replaced Marinette’s smile, and she felt a small hint of guilt for her previous comment. “Well,” she said in an attempt to fix her blunder. “I don’t know about stupid…”

“It would probably be weird,” Chat continued, “and awkward at times…and it wouldn’t be easy…”

Marinette nodded.

“…but I dunno,” he sighed, shifting his gaze. “Part of me thinks we’d be able to make it work.”

Allowing the thought to process, Marinette tapped her finger along the aged paneling of the roof they sat atop, teeth nibbling on her bottom lip as she sought for a reply.

Would they be able to make it work?

After all, she’d been thinking about moving out of the bakery soon due to space, and she didn’t like the idea of living alone either…and Alya was already sharing an apartment Nino…

“Maybe,” Marinette said, a hint of humor in her voice. “But we’d be together all the time, and I can’t exactly picture myself cooking dinner wearing a skin-tight suit. Even if it would protect me from burns.”

Chat supplied a small snort of laughter at her statement. “I guess that’s a bonus. Would living together be so weird, though?”

Marinette opened her mouth to answer with a “yes, of course!”, but paused as she couldn’t exactly find an explanation why it would be so odd for them to live together under those circumstances. Sure, it’d feel a bit off to walk around an apartment with her suit on, but by now Marinette was used to wearing polka-dots for long hours. She felt more natural in her transformation than she ever had five years prior when she was fourteen, freshly new to the world of superheroes and saving the city, and for a brief second the thought that maybe Chat’s idea wasn’t such a stupid one passed her mind.

It would be a hell of a lot more convenient for the both of them. They wouldn’t have to worry about when the other would show up during akuma attacks, or struggle going through a battle alone while one of them was on their way.

(Or, on the rare occurrence that a certain Ladybug slept in late during a rather difficult akuma attack, Chat Noir wouldn’t have to suffer through another hour of holding a violet butterfly within his paws and panicking over what he should do with it.)

A small grin twitched at the corner of Marinette’s mouth before a second thought passed her mind, causing the hint of a smile to fall.

She knew Chat Noir was dying to get out of his house. Nineteen years old and still suffocating under the watchful eye of his parents (parent?), Chat often expressed his sorrows about his home life with a forlorn sigh. Though he never delved too deeply into personal details, Marinette could tell just by the carefully worded sentences that he was having a difficult time staying happy in the house he’d lived in since he was a baby.

And, although she couldn’t relate, Marinette did feel for her friend. There were often times where she had considered begging Tikki to let them reveal their identities to each other just so she could take Chat Noir to the bakery and gift him a place to live that he looked forward to coming home to.

(Too many nights had she found Chat patrolling the city when there hadn’t been a scheduled patrol, after all.)

And now the words were on the tip of her tongue; the confirmation she knew her partner was secretly hoping for notwithstanding the fact that he was writing it off as a joke.

A joke that tugged at his lips in a sort of dejected smile that did not—would not—reach his eyes.

“I wonder how that would work,” Marinette whispered, eyes falling to the city streets below, where cars trailed lazily down the two-way street in a pale river of yellow lights. “Maybe we could make it work.”

One of Chat’s velvet ears twitched against his shaggy blond hair, and his eyes met hers for a fleeting moment. Even in the second of shared eye contact Marinette could see the tiny spark of hope that glowed within them, and she couldn’t stop the smile that began to spread across her face.

Maybe they could move in together. Sure, she’d have to talk to Tikki about it first, and they’d have to find an inconspicuous apartment in the middle of the city together, and it would wouldn’t be easy…

But…

But…no. That was just silly.

A silly, silly idea. It wouldn’t work out. How would they keep their identities secret? How would they be able to live life as normal civilians and go about their daily duties—work, university, grocery shopping—without revealing themselves?

You’ll never know until you try, a little voice peeped in the back of Marinette’s mind. What could be so bad about it?

What could be so bad? Well, they could accidentally come home destransformed, or sleepwalk in their pajamas, or both walk up to the front door at the same time without their suits on, or, or-

Or…what?

All of those situations could easily be avoided. They could set rules. Marinette could make masks so they wouldn’t have to be transformed all of the time, or they could turn out the lights every now and then. Or maybe they could set certain days where they would stay transformed so they could hang out.

Huh…the whole idea was beginning to seem a lot simpler than it had been three minutes ago.

Yeah, Marinette replied to the earlier thought, what could be so bad?

She knew of plenty of things that could be bad, as her anxiety had ways of creating the most outlandish situations. For now, however, she ignored them.

Looking over to Chat Noir, Marinette smiled, giving his back (which was slumped over in a sad sort of way) a gentle pat. He responded by sitting up straight, a question on his lips and hope in his gaze, ears perked up in interest. They stared at each other for a breath or two before Marinette exploded into a fit of laughter, her stomach clenching with the force of of her chortle.

Chat flinched at first, obviously surprised by her sudden outburst, but a second later he joined her in the ocean of giggles that had flooded between them. His smile was so wide that Marinette could see the white glint of his teeth and lovely crinkles around his eyes, as well as the shake of his shoulders and a single tear—whether it be from laughter or relief—that slid down his cheek.

And that was how Marinette Dupain-Cheng, Ladybug, nineteen-year-old baker’s daughter found herself transformed and heaving box after box into a two-bedroom apartment smack dab in the middle of Paris a month later with a black cat trailing just a step behind her, placing a few of his own boxes on the wide, empty wooden floor.

It had been a crazy, crazy idea.

But sometimes, Marinette knew, the craziest of ideas were the best of all.

How I made $2000 off a meth dealer.

A few years ago I was married to a degenerate tweeker (she wasn’t originally like that, but y'know, meth does what meth does).

I kept interfering with her tweeker lifestyle trying to get her treatment etc and she rewarded my efforts with a restraining order (lied, said I beat her and other overly dramatic stuff).

So, I get kicked out of my place and end up in a studio apartment with nothing but my toothbrush and the clothes I was wearing.

One of her great plans was to get a front for a ton of dope using EVERYTHING OF VALUE WE OWN as collateral.

Drug dealer literally takes everything and puts it in a storage unit somewhere in town. Wife plans to stomp on the dope, sell it and by the weekend be a millionaire (tweeker logic).

Of course, she fucks off the plan and ends up just doing the dope so now all our expensive stuff is in the wind.

I try to work out something with POS drug dealer but he wanted an absurd amount of payback, plus I made some threatening comments he didn’t appreciate so negotiations stalled.

Eventually, I catch wind that he got locked up and that some friends took all HIS property and put it in storage for safekeeping until he got out.

I hit every storage place in town with my story and his picture hoping to catch some kind of break.

Eventually, I find the place. Owner tells me that the unit is going up for auction the next weekend for non-payment. He tells me if I just pay the 3 months back rent that he’d write it up as I won the auction and I can have the unit.

$320 gets slapped on the counter and we go drill the lock.

All my stuff is there! And, whaddaya know, now I own all his stuff free and clear.

And, cuz I’m a nice guy, I dug out all the personal irreplaceable stuff (old photos, important documents, etc), boxed them up and gave them to his mom (found her on Facebook).

Actually made quite a bit of money off the deal selling his shit on Craigslist (came out about $2000 in the black on the deal).

Divorced now, have all my stuff and am happy….

13 Reasons Why (Tape 1)

Characters: Dean, sister!reader, Mary, Sam, John

Warnings: mention of death, angst, swearing

Word count: 4139

Summary: Dean listens to the first tape that you left after you died. He learns about the rules he has to follow with them, and who the first cause of your decision was.

A/N: italics are flashbacks to the events before your death

Series: Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6 Part 7

Dean woke up around 5am on Monday morning. It had been three months since you, his 18 year old sister, had decided to take your own life. Him and Sam never got a note, you were just gone and that was all they knew. They were too late to save you and that bothered him. Every morning since that day he woke up at 5am. He realised there was no going back to sleep so he climbed out of bed and headed to the door. When he opened the door he was surprised to be greeted with a small box in front of his feet. Dean looked left and right and noticed Sam wasn’t around to have just placed the box there. He sighed, picked it up, shut his door and walked back to his bed.

As he opened up the box he was confused as he noticed that all was inside were tapes. Why would someone give him a box of tapes? Dean rummaged through the box on his shelf and found his old tape player that John had given him when he was a kid and wanted to listen to AC/DC. He put the first mysterious tape inside the player and pressed play.

“Hello,” the familiar voice that he hadn’t heard for three months spoke which almost hurt his ears to know that he could hear in tape form. He must have been mistaken… It couldn’t be!

“My name is Y/N Winchester,” your tape continued. “I’m about to tell you the story of my life. More specifically, why my life ended… And if you’re listening to this tape,” The tape paused for a moment and Dean waited in suspense. “You’re one of the reasons why.”

He pulled the headphones off his head and sat there for a moment. He couldn’t believe the voice or words he was hearing. How could this be real? How could he really be hearing it? Having to listen to the voice of his deceased sister was hard for him, but the only way to find out more was listening to the tapes… So he continued. It wasn’t a fast decision, he took a breath and thought about just throwing them away. But then he would never know the reason why. This was like your suicide note, only in the form of 13 tapes.

His shaky hands picked up the headphones and placed them carefully on his head. He pressed play on the tape player and continued to listen. “As there are to every story, there are 13 different sides to this. I’m going to tell you all of them. Each tape is based on one of the people that are the reason my life ended. So, once you’ve listened to all the tapes you need to pass these on to the next person. If you don’t, well, just know that someone is always watching every single one of you and will make sure that all the tapes are listened to by every person. Now that you understand.. Let me begin with my first tape.”

Dean closed his eyes and followed the story you were telling. “First up, we have the thing that started it all… It was a normal day for you maybe, but not me at all. I didn’t know about hunting or any of that, not until you told me. I went to find you after mom had said she saw you earlier that day, I thought maybe it would be a chance for me to meet my father for the first time. Incase you hadn’t figured it out by now, we have our first person of the story. Welcome to your tape, John.”

Dean realised that John could have been the one these tapes outside of Dean’s room. He almost forgot that both of his parents now lived in the bunker with him and Sam. John must have listened to the tapes before him. Or maybe it was Mary? Since you died they both acted weirdly around both the boys, but then again, Mary acted strangely around you anyway so maybe she had something to do with all of this. He didn’t have time to think as the tape continued to play and tell Dean the story of what happened to you.

* * *

You were a nervous wreck ever since you joined your father and his two sons. Your mom insisted on you moving in with John so that you could bond and get to know your father after all those years of wishing you knew him. You knew it wouldn’t be easy meeting him when the day came, but you never expected it to be that hard.

He told you all about hunting and all his excuses of why he left you and your mother. They were stupid and you hated listening to him explaining, you needed someone to take your anger out on and that person was John. You needed to scream and shout at him every now and then for small things just so you could release some of the pain that he made you feel for most of your life.

But that shit didn’t fly with John, you either did as he said or you were gone. “It’s my way or the highway,” you recalled him saying to you a few times after your arguments. Sam and Dean didn’t live with John really, it was more like John lived with them, along with Mary Winchester. They owned this thing called the Men Of Letters Bunker. The place was huge, so many bedrooms you couldn’t count, you could have sworn you found a new room there everyday.

Before John moved in here, him and his wife (who was also the two boy’s mother) had come back to life after so many years. They didn’t fit into the word exactly so they relied on hunting as what kept them grounded. Sam, Dean, John, Mary and you. That’s how it was. Of course, being the youngest meant that you had to follow everyone’s rules and it was for your own ‘safety.’

* * *

“For my own safety? That was complete bullshit,” you spoke smoothly through Dean’s headphones. “You just wanted someone to boss around, dad. You couldn’t control Sam and Dean anymore, so you made sure that you could completely control me. Before that I didn’t have anyone controlling me, I could do what I wanted and act however I thought was right for me. You took that from me… That’s where it all started going down hill, it’s where I started to break.”

Dean once again paused the tape. He checked his nightstand and saw that it was now 6am. How had time moved so quickly? How long had it taken him to listen to this short part of the tape? He knew he had taken it out at the beginning because it was too hard to listen to, but he never knew he was stalling for so long.

A break from this right now seemed appropriate. So, he took the headset off, left it on his bed and headed to the kitchen to get something to eat. Every step he took felt heavier than the last. This wasn’t something new, it had been happening ever since you took your life, but now it was hitting him harder. It made every movement more painful than they had been before; he didn’t even know that was possible until now.

Once he reached the kitchen, he was pleasantly surprised to see that Mary, John and Sam were already there and eating breakfast. Sam was still at the stove, finishing up cooking some eggs and the rest of the bacon while John and Mary sat opposite each other and ate what they already had. “Dean,” John said by surprise. “You’re up later than usual.”

“It’s 6am,” Dean replied with a gravelly voice that he always had when he was tired. Lately, it seemed to be the only voice he had.

“You’re usually up at around 5,” John noted. Sam came and sat down next to Mary at the table and placed a plate down for himself and for Dean.

“You hungry?” Sam asked and Dean joined them at the table. “How you holding up?”

“I feel… Different to what I have for the last few months,” Dean replied to his little brother. “You know, I actually woke up at 5am again today. I stayed in my room because I found something left outside my door.”

All of their eyes widened as Dean spoke. They looked at each other before John spoke. “So she finally finished listening to them.”

“What? Who?” Dean questioned as he squeezed his fork tightly in his hand.

“We can’t talk about this,” Mary recalled before picking up a piece of bacon from her plate and eating it.

“You can’t do that to me! Who are you talking about?!” Dean demanded as he threw his fork down.

“The last person that had the tapes,” John told him which earned a glance from Mary and Sam.

“The tapes… You’ve all listened to them?” Dean looked around at them all. They were faces of the people he knew, they were his family. But they all felt so unfamiliar, like strangers with secrets.

“We can’t talk about it, you need to listen to the tapes,” Sam finished before taking his plate over to the trash can and throwing his food away.

“Are any of you on there? Who is the ‘she’ that you’re talking about? Is it someone else on the tapes?” Dean asked quickly, not giving them time to answer any of them as he continued. “Are you all on the tapes?”

“Dean, we can’t,” Mary snapped. “You have to just listen to the tapes, everyone on there had to.”

He stood up and made his way to the exit of the kitchen but stopped in his tracks.

“It’s hard to listen to,” Dean admitted with a sad voice. He stood in the door way as he spoke to them. “It’s the voice of my dead sister.”

“Dean!” John hissed. He looked at his son standing in there, he looked so heartbroken and vulnerable. “Please son, just listen to the tapes.”

Dean glared at them all. If looks could kill, they would all be dead in a second. He stormed off and went back to his room, it turned out he didn’t get any food or a drink to soothe his feelings of anxiety right now. He returned in the same state he was in before. Dean placed the headset back on his ears and continued to listen to John’s tape.

“But that wasn’t all, was it dad?” You questioned rhetorically. “No, you did more than just boss me around. When you realised you couldn’t do it anymore, you did the only thing that you thought you could do to end the lack of control…”

* * *

It was a few months after you had moved into the bunker and began your training to become a hunter. It wasn’t the physical side of it all because you already knew how to fight after your countless years of being bullied at school. That’s why the boys and your dad were so okay with you going hunting with them; they knew you could take care of yourself.

It was the research of it all. You weren’t used to connecting the dots with how certain monsters acted or what they did with how the victims had died. You gradually became better at it, but you weren’t as good as your brothers because they grew up doing it. You knew that. You understood that.

John didn’t seem to though. All he did was compared you to Sam and Dean and demanded that you become a smarter person. That wasn’t something you could just do, you can’t just snap your fingers one day and get what you want. You have to work for shit like that, it takes time and patience… But those were two things that John lacked.

It was that one day in the motel you were all staying in. The report in the paper said that the bystanders smelled sulphur after the woman was attacked. That was easy enough to figure out, right? Wrong. You weren’t trained enough in the mythology of monsters and you had no idea that sulphur was a sign of demons. You read past it and said there was nothing in there that could have been your kind of thing.

John insisted that you had missed something, just like he always did. You hated when you had to look for cases in the paper. Either you would misjudge it and say you had found a case or you would read past it too quickly and not realise that there was your kind of thing going on. No. You never got it right, so John always checked.

He held the paper in his hand as he sat opposite you at the small table in the motel. You watched nervously as his eyes scanned over the front page and read about the current murder spree going around. “Jesus Christ,” he groaned as he slammed the paper down on the table. “You’re kidding me right, Y/N? You don’t see a case here?”

“Uh, no, sir,” you replied shakily. Sam and Dean noticed your worry from where they were sitting on the beds. Mary was currently out on a supply run.

“It says here the by passers could smell sulphur,” John stated as he looked over at his sons.

“So what are we thinking, a demon?” Dean asked while he continued to clean his gun.

John clicked his tongue and Dean’s answer as if it was obvious. “Exactly… A demon.”

“A demon?” You questioned as you looked between all of them.

“The smell of sulphur is an instant alert for a demon,” Sam told you with a smile. He didn’t mind teaching you, he actually enjoyed it. He liked passing on his knowledge with you and helping you become a better hunter. He had patience… John didn’t.

“Yeah,” John snapped. “Every hunter should know that.”

You hated when he got like this because you instantly knew it was a dig at you and you were tired of it. The boys saw nothing of it because they didn’t pay enough attention. That’s why they thought you were in the wrong when you snapped back.

“Well, I’m still new at this so you can’t expect me to know everything,” you hissed which got John’s back up. You were glad it pissed him off, it was time that he took you seriously.

“You do not speak to your father like that!” He shouted as he stood from his chair and pushed it back aggressively.

You stood up too so you could regain dominance in the conversation. “What kind of father are you? I barely even know you!”

“This isn’t about me,” he replied with a steady tone.

“Yes it is!” You screamed. “This is about you… This is about what you didn’t do. You weren’t there because you were too busy hunting with your other family. And yes, I know that you died when I was a kid, but even when you came back to life you didn’t bother looking for me.”

“I thought we were past this,” he growled with flared nostrils.

“We are. We are past this,” you lied. You weren’t over it, but you had to pretend you were for the sake of everyone else. “I’m not reminding you about it because I’m hurt, I’m reminding you because you need to understand my point of view. I’m not good at researching cases with you because I was never here for it. And you’re not good at being a father to me because you were never there.”

When you finished your statement it was as if the world stopped for a minute. You came to terms with what you had said and realised that you meant it; John wasn’t as accepting towards the statement as you were. The boys both gasped as they saw John’s hand being drawn back.

Before you could react to his movement, John’s hand made harsh contact with your cheek. It was enough force that if pushed you to the floor. You breathed heavily as you stood up; you were holding your hand against your cheek in disbelief.

“You asshole!” You growled as your stood on your feet. “You fucking asshole!”

“What the hell is going on?” Mary demanded as she walked through the door. “Y/N? What happened to your face?”

“It was dad! He slapped me!” You screamed. “You’re a dick, how could you?!”

“Dad, you crossed the line,” Sam said. “You don’t hit your kids.”

“Things just got out of hand,” Dean insisted. “They should never have gone this far, you need to talk about this and sort it out because this shit has been going on for too long. All you do is argue with each other over the smallest things.”

“Dean! He hit her!” Sam defended as he stood up in annoyance.

“We’ve all hit each other! Hell, we’ve tried to kill each other before,” Dean recalled. You couldn’t believe Dean would actually try and defend his father, you thought he had changed.

“Why are you defending him?!” You fumed.

“I’m not,” Dean said calmly. He put his arms up in defence as he continued to talk. “All I’m saying is we have all done terrible things to each other, our family is messed up. This is something that’s needs to be dealt with and then we move on.”

You scoffed at his words. John looked down at you the same way he always did, his eyes full of hatred and boiling with anger. “There’s nothing to talk about. I want you gone, Y/N.”

“But-”

“No!” John spat. “I want you gone, get the fuck out of here. Go back to living with your mom, the hunting life isn’t for everyone and you’re most definitely not meant to be a hunter.”

You couldn’t believe the words that were leaving his mouth. You looked at your brothers and saw that even they didn’t know what to say. You grabbed your things, threw them into a backpack and walked out like you weren’t even bothered. But of course you were. You were so desperate for one of them to follow you and beg you to come back… But no one ever did.

* * *

“You hit me in the face. It hurt. But not as much as it hurt when you hit me with rejection and hatred. You wanted me gone… I hated you, John, more than I had ever hated anyone. You felt the same way about me and I wasn’t going to stick around for that so I headed back to my moms.”

Dean once again removed the headphones and paused the tape. There wasn’t long left of this tape but it was so hard for him to listen to. He checked his clock on his nightstand once again and saw that it was now 1:35pm. Food. He needed food.

Another walk to the kitchen with pain in his steps led to a nervous feeling in his stomach. What John had done to you was so bad, what if Dean’s was worse? What if he had hurt you but had no idea that it had affected you so badly? Dean was pulled out of his thoughts when he saw his father sitting alone at the kitchen table and drinking a beer.

“Hey, son,” he said with a soft voice. “You doing ok?”

“I’m great,” Dean snapped. “I won’t talk to you and piss you off though, I don’t wanna get a beating.”

John sighed and rubbed his palm over his face. “You listened to my tape.”

“I haven’t finished it yet,” Dean shook his head. “It’s still hard to listen to.”

John didn’t reply to what Dean said, he just took another swig of his beer and stared at the wall. Dean went to the fridge and pulled out some left over bacon that was cooked that morning. He put the plate in front of him and his father at the table as he came and sat opposite him. “Stop staring at the wall and look at me,” Dean demanded. John looked at the disappointment in his sons eyes. “Feeling sorry for yourself won’t bring her back.”

Now he saw something in John that he had never let him see before. It was weakness. “I remember that day,” Dean continued. “I remember that I defended you when you hurt her because I was scared that what you did would make her leave. I was selfish and I wanted her to stay so I tried to justify what happened.”

“Son-”

“I’m not finished,” Dean snapped. “What you did drove her away from our family… The only reason she came back was because she had nowhere else to go after she went home and found her moms dead body. If you didn’t send her away she would never had seen that.”

“You don’t think I know that!” John shouted which caught Dean by surprise. He sighed as he realised his anger had once again got the better of him. “Dean-” his voice was steady and low, “-the reason I did that to her was to protect her.”

“You hit her to protect her?” Dean demanded.

“I pushed her away to protect her,” John said as tears began to form in his eyes. “Before I slapped her I kept snapping at her and being nasty to her because I wanted her to leave so she could be safe. I knew that if I told her that she wouldn’t leave, and no matter how many times I shouted at her or was a complete dick to her she would just get upset… But she would stay. I had to do something that would finally make her leave; I had to make her think that I hated her so that she would hate me. If she stayed with us she would have continued to hunt and I wanted better for her.”

John wiped his tears away before drinking more of his beer. It was as if he thought the alcohol would soothe the sting, but it only made it worse. “I loved my baby,” he cried. “She was my only daughter and she made me proud every day. I’ll never get a chance to tell her that.”

Dean shook his head. He understood why John did what he did and he sympathised with him, but it didn’t matter. That wouldn’t bring you back. It wouldn’t fix anything. “She’s dead because you were too scared to love her.”

Dean didn’t plan on saying it, it was just a thought that popped into his head but he needed to get it out. Secrets were one of the reasons you ended your life, he didn’t want to keep them anymore.

John had no idea how to respond to Dean. How could someone reply to that? He was one of the causes of his daughters death because he was a coward. Dean didn’t even know what to think anymore. He needed to know more. He had one more bite of the bacon before he put the plate back in the fridge and headed back to his room.

They were still there when he got back. He didn’t know what he was expecting, but he was hoping that the tapes weren’t real and that you were still there in the bunker. When you moved in you told him that you wanted your room next to his so you could knock on the wall if you wanted to talk to each other.

He picked the tape player up, it felt colder than when he last held it. A chill shot down his spine as he thought about the tapes again and how they were all you left behind. Your voice played again in his ears.

“After you kicked me out, dad, I went back for my mom. I ran in to my house, crying my eyes out because of what you did. I wanted comfort from my mom,” you explained. “She was all I needed right at that moment because in my whole life she was all I ever had. But I never got to speak to her… I went into her room and found her covered in blood. She didn’t move… Or breathe… She did nothing.”

Your voice broke as you spoke about your mothers death and Dean closed his eyes at the thought. “And this, ladies and gentlemen, brings me to my second tape. And you know who you are when I say that on my next tape, we’re going to talk about the person that murdered my mother.”

Tags ~

@jarpadobrien @thejulietfarciertlove @bluecookiesandbooks @little-miss-padfoot @thisnoticeisnotworthnoticing @catcherofdreams22 @fabulouslycassie@uchihababeee @lust-for-pan @weirdrandomunknownperson @you-didnt-see-that-cuming @thegreatficmaster @chloemwinchester

It was a joke, baby. I swear. Part 2

Here it is… The moment …. i guess some of you… have been waiting for. I hope it’s perfect. 

Originally posted by spiderholland

Peter’s fingers gently sifted through your smooth faded blue hair, as you rested between his legs on his couch. You were both lazing around today, and having a Star Wars movie marathon, which you were having difficulty watching because Peter was nearly lulling you to sleep with his gentle strokes over your scalp.

Peter had practically forgot about the movie, at this point it was just static noise to his concentration on your soft locks. Your initial reaction to his hair dying prank made him feel a little guilty, but now he had no regrets, as you were both enjoying the change. His fingers weaved little braids scattered over your head. He found himself un-braiding and re-braiding all of them as they spilled over his chest. They had only just fallen there aimlessly, but some how they looked to be placed strategically to perfection. 

Keep reading

Yakov Always Hated Father's Day

Yakov always hated Father’s Day, and he thought he always would…

He never had much of a father to speak of, and the man that held that title was not worthy of a card or kind words, but he was forced to grin and bear it every year. The card, the family dinner, the hallow words…he had to swallow it all until the day he moved out. He was finally free, at least until he got older.

Then those years haunted him…

Yakov had always wanted children for as long as he could remember, but he was afraid…so terrified that he would turn out like his father. These thoughts plagued him for so long that he never got around to having a child of his own, and the holiday would just be an excuse for guilt and way too many shots of vodka…until Viktor came along.

The boy looked kind of nervous as he held out a card full of colorful scribbles and the juice box Yakov had packed in the boy’s lunch the night before. He went to his office and cried for awhile while he was on the ice, but you could never get him to admit it.

Then there was Georgi, who would always bring him a card and homemade breakfast item. He was unable to stomach the ketchup sandwich he was gifted in the early years, but he loved it anyway.

And Mila, who would always bring him a card and whatever pretty plants she found on her way to the rink, even if they happened to be leaves or spikey weeds.

Yuri with his “old man” cards, that always had something sweet on the inside that no one could see but him, and a note on the bottom that read: “There’s pirozhki on your desk.”

He never hated Father’s Day again…and if you were to search his office you would find a box, stashed in the locked drawer in his desk, that held all his memories. A box that contained cards and dried leaves alike, with a few ketchup packets thrown in just for laughs.

anonymous asked:

I found out that my 94-year-old great-aunt is in fact aromantic asexual. It wasn't a revelation I expected when I decided to come clean to my family why I'm not married and have children. Best by-product of this was that now my family accepts my aroaceness because hell hath no fury like her and if she's been happy for almost a century so chances are so will I.

What a wholesome ask <3

Edited my character and added two more for @thebbros AU. I hope these are good.
Maria &a Niel-
Maria is 10 and she is very quiet. She was originally in an orphanage due to the fact that she had contracted the ink illness. Her parents put her in the orphanage because they were afraid that she was contagious and that their other children would get sick. Her first weeks in the orphanage the other children steered clear of her, afraid that he would get them sick (even though her case of the illness wasn’t so severe) so she often kept to herself until she met another child in the orphanage that wasn’t afraid of her (Niel) At first she didn’t really open up to him much but now hes like a little brother to her.
Likes-
Books
puzzles
Niel is 7 years old. When he was 3months old he was left in a box at the orphanage, there was no note, just a crying baby. The owner of the orphanage took him in and raised him and now he’s the happiest than he’s ever been. He tries to make friends with everyone and he can be a little too trusting. He carries around the blanket he was found with just so he can have a memory with him, even though he doesn’t remember his parents. every once in a while when he was able to go out he would go to a bakery or a store and try to beg for some food. He takes Maria with him sometimes to see if they could get double if their acting is good enough.
Likes-
Acting
making jokes
Vixy-
She is 19 and she does volunteer work at the orphanage where Maria and Niel are at. She usually gets stuck babysitting them or even taking them home with her to whatever Inn she’s staying at if the orphanage got over crowded. When she has to go to work she usually leaves them at home and she asks the inn owner to watch them but they still end up getting into trouble. She changes jobs a lot to pay her rent and she’s usually seen working at a café or another restaurant.
Likes-
Her space
doing volunteer work

art by nevithepaint

Hey everyone!

So I am making donation kits for witches in need and beginning witches who can’t get supplies. I am trying very hard to get people to donate supplies and money for the cause. Several wonderful people have already donated items for the kits.

If you are interested in donating then please follow the tag #QuintessaBlessingsDonationKits

Anyways, I found a gift card in my purse for Michael’s so I decided to dedicate it to the donation kits. I bought some packs of these little bottles. I now have some boxes, basic herbs, bottles, jute rope, old keys, seashells, small crystals, and tube bottles. I have some old journals that have never been used which could function as a grimoire but they aren’t leather bound or anything. If someone would be willing to donate $10 then I would be able to get about 10 crystal pendulums or 5 sage incense bundles.

Just $10 will make a difference!

Wedding and pop-corn - Batmom x Batfamily

So I decided to combine those two requests, because they’re very similar, and it’s not my thing to write two stories that are basically the same thing :-). So here for Batmom and Bruce’s wedding and all of that ! IT’S SUPER LONG SORRY !! It’s been a while since I wrote such a long fic…I just didn’t wanna make two parts… Hope you’ll like it

(My masterlist blog : https://ella-ravenwood-archives.tumblr.com)

________________________________________________

-ENOUGH IS ENOUGH ! 

The angry (or rather, annoyed), loud and deep voice of their father stop them all right in their track. It isn’t often your Bruce raises his voice like so, but sometimes, your boys just push him too far. 

Like right now. 

You were all in the biggest living room in Wayne’s Manor, enjoying some family time for the first time in ages ! It was rare that you could hang out altogether outside of the Batcave…

But things weren’t going like you wanted them to go. 

************

You had wished to spent some times with your sons, husband and the man you came to consider your father, Alfred. Watching movies, eating junk food, drinking too much coffee and soda…It started out so well. 

You guys were all sitting in a gigantic couch, with tons of things to eat and drink, and a movie to put on…Unfortunately, said movie was Dick’s favorite, and the young man seemed unable stop himself from saying every lines in the movie before they actually happened. 

You and Bruce were used to him doing that, as he’s been doing it since he arrived first in the house, when he was barely eight years old. The first time he said a line before a character would say it, he looked at you two worriedly, afraid to be annoying…And of course it was annoying, but he was so damn cute, that you let him do it. And some things never change. Even though he was know a almost a man, you still let him do it, because to you, he was still your baby boy, and he was still as cute as ever. 

Jason never cared either, because usually, when it was movie night, it meant cuddling against you or one of his brothers (rarely against Bruce, because of stupid pride), and he’d never admit it, but he didn’t care one bit about the movies you’d all watch, as long as he was with his family. Oh yes, of course he’d never admit it, it’d ruin his “tough guy reputation”.

Tim would usually doze off on your shoulder, or if your shoulder was taken by one of your siblings (only one shoulder available unfortunately, the other one was always automatically reserved for his father), then he’d fall asleep on one of them instead. The poor boy always had so much trouble sleeping, than when there were truly calm moments, like your movie nights, he just couldn’t stay awake. 

But Damian…Oh Damian hated Dick’s habit. And apparently, this evening, he was grumpier than usual, not even twenty minutes into the movie and he started to argue with his older brother about him “having to shut up because he’d like to enjoy the damn movie !”. Of course, because Dick loved the way Damian would get all worked up about something that silly (even though it really was annoying), he did it even louder. 

This sprout Damian lunging at Dick and yelling at him to be silent…the commotion he made woke Tim up, and when Tim got woken up from one of his rare peaceful sleep, he wasn’t in a good mood. So out of annoyance, he elbowed Damian in the ribs with a groan. 

It so happened that that particularly night, it was Jason’s turn to snuggle against you, and the fight their brother were starting made you straighten up to see what was happening, dislodging him from against you…And it wasn’t fair. it was his turn to be with his mommy (oh God he wished to everything he held holy that no one would ever know what he was thinking just now), and they were ruining it !  

All Hell broke loose as your four boys started to yell, kick, slap, damn even BITE each other ! All the while Dick kept saying the lines from the movie before it happened, as he was dodging punches and such. 

It lasted about thirty seconds before Bruce got genuinely angry that his sons were ruining one of their only family moments of the month ! It was so difficult to gather everyone together, and they were messing everything up ! 

Keep reading

You’ll be glad to know that Even and Isak’s move went pretty damn smoothly, apart from the one incident when Isak cut his hand open with a box cutter.

Even was organising the last of his stuff from his old bedroom in their new room and he’d left Isak unpacking the box of crockery (a moving in gift from his parents) in the kitchen. He was just trying to figure out where to prop his guitar up when he heard Isak yell fuck from across the flat.

He knew Isak’s voice well enough to know that that was his god dammit that fucking hurt voice, and he was on his feet and moving through the flat before he’d actively thought about it.

Sure enough, when he got into the kitchen he found Isak gripping his wildly bleeding hand to his chest, the blood smeared box cutter discarded on the floor about a foot away from him. It took a little bit of coaxing, but eventually Isak calmed down enough to let Even hold onto his wrist and lift his hurt hand above his head to stop the bleeding.

Even circled his free arm around his trembling boyfriend and Isak immediately buried his face in Even’s chest. They stood there in silence for a few seconds: Isak shakily breathing in Even’s smell and Even watching the blood trickle down Isak’s pale arm.

“How did you even manage that, Is?” Even peered closer at Isak’s hand, inspecting the cut that ran down the middle of his palm as Isak buried himself closer into Even’s chest.

“I-” Isak began before quickly changing his mind, pressing his face into Even’s shoulder. Even could feel him blushing. A few seconds ticked by before Isak peeped up at Even from under his lashes and Even just raised an eyebrow at his bashful boyfriend, waiting for the rest of the story.

Fine!” Isak sighed dramatically, as if Even was physically forcing the words out of him rather than just raising his eyebrow. “I got distracted.” Isak fiddled with Even’s shirt with his free hand, one of his more obvious tells.

“By what? You don’t even have any music on!” Even said incredulously. For someone pale with blood loss, Isak miraculously managed to blush harder.

“I was just- thinking.” Isak replied haltingly, like he couldn’t decide if he was going to talk or not. Isak had got a lot better at sharing what he was feeling, but he still had moments where words got so thick in his throat that he struggled to get them out.

Even knew to just wait him out during those talks.

“About how we’re probably going to have people over for dinner, and argue about who does the dishes when we’re both tired, and maybe one day you’ll make us terrible cheese toasties again, or we’ll get better at cooking together. Just…a lot of possibilities in there.” Isak nodded down and the box he had been opening.

And that was how Even found himself grinning from ear to ear while holding a pale and bloody Isak.

“You got distracted while using a sharp knife because you were thinking about our future? Isak Valtersen, are you getting sappy in your old age?” Even teased, gently taking the fingers of Isak’s sore hand now the blood had finally stopped and guiding Isak over to the sink.

“I am not sappy!” Isak protested, letting Even rinse his cut under the tap.

“No, of course you’re not, baby, you just couldn’t help but think of all the dinner parties we’re gonna throw and the food we’ll cook together while unpacking our plates.” Even grinned, gently washing the blood from Isak’s arm.

“You’re never going to let me forget this, are you?” Isak groaned, his eyes practically rolling out of his skull.

“Never.” Even agreed, planting a gentle kiss to the cut on Isak’s palm.  “Just like I’m never going to let you near anything sharp ever again. You’re on sauce stirring duty for the rest of your life.”

“I can live with that.” Isak looked up, giving Even that vulnerably honest look that made his heart clench.  “As long as I’m always in the kitchen with you.” Even smiled at that, circling his arms around Isak’s waist and bringing him closer. He brushed his nose gently over Isak’s, watching his eyes flutter closed.

“As if I’d trust you in the kitchen alone.” Even whispered against Isak’s lips, brushing the lightest of kisses there.

The truth was, Even would go anywhere if it meant being with Isak.

Starting with their mess of a kitchen.

proOOOMpts

Your character holding a star but suddenly realizing it is a bALL OF FIRE

Your character desperately trying not to burn pasta

Your character throwing a tv out the window

Your character dancing to their favorite song (the bad kind that you only do in your house alone)

Your character discovering a certain meme for the first time

Your character seeing someone they like through a window in a store

Your character breaking their only pencil

Your character trying funny smelling lotion/spray

Your character getting their butt smacked my another one of your characters

Your character finally receiving the package they ordered last year

Your character drawing themselves but very confused on how to make portraits

Your character struggling with tv box cables

Your character trying to figure out their password to that really old abscure account that NEEDS to be deleted

Your character flying over buildings at night or sunset

Your character relaxing on a tube in the middle of a pool

Your character pool noodle fighting with another character

Your character falling asleep while reading a good book

Your character discovering the joys of fuzzy pajamas

Your character panicking because another character found their secret blog

Your character finding an old RPG maker game they made when they were a teen

Your character finding out someone they dated was a distant cousin

Your character getting an amazing surprise birthday party

Your character trying to hang up a framed picture in an odd place

Your character sitting in a pile of garbage on their bed from who knows when

Your character drinking something they found but tastes good

Your character getting hit on by some drunk idiot

Your character finally talking to someone cute

Your character playing an instrument

Your character being super bored at a meeting

Your character trying to leave a family gathering because of the creepy/butt relative

Your character taking pictures of random things

Your character being snuggled by cute birds

Your character being snuggled

Your character drinking clamato

Your character eating a brain sandwich from indiana

Your character shot in the foot

Your character sleeping comfortably on a friend’s couch

(submitted by @ladondyll thanks a lot pal, those are a lot of prompts :0 )